St. Louis, 2004

"Jason's completed the transfer of funds," Ben announced. He tapped out a reply to the instant message and added, "he can begin the transactions at any time."

Cocktail jazz wafted over the Anchor Hotel Ballroom, and dozens of Hudson City’s elite tried to waft along with it. From his perch at the corner bar, Edison discreetly sneered at some of the particularly clumsy couples. It was beyond him what the unspectacular spectacle of these fine citizens punishing the parquet had to do with breast cancer research. Or Somalian refugees or dyslexic puppies or whatever the hell this event was about.