Free Flight of the Raven by REBECCA YORK Page B

Word had it that her uncle’s political connections had procured her the invitation. She’d been grateful for the misconception.
    Because Aleksei Rozonov had known Conti in New York, there had been no questions asked when the Russian cultural attaché had been added to the invitation list. Cal Dixon had called Julie to his office to apprise her of the game plan.
    “Rozonov must be anxious to renew his friendship with Conti. They went to high school together in New York, and by all accounts, they were quite a pair. I see from the Russian’s file”—which had expanded by at least an inch since the last time Julie had seen it—”that they once took the Conti limousine for a joy ride into Canada. If Rozonov’s father hadn’t pulled some strings, that stunt would have gotten Aleksei Iliyanovich sent back to school in Moscow.”
    It was hard for Julie to picture the man with the penetrating ice blue eyes participating in such a prank. But the KGB agent, like everyone else, must have been young once. Quickly she blocked out the mitigating thought. Rozonov was the enemy, and the only safe course was to keep reminding herself of that fact.
    Julie knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited while a tuxedoed butler carefully inspected her engraved invitation. She knew the precaution wasn’t simply to keep out gate-crashers. For the safety of the high-level diplomats gathered here, security had to be stringent, even if it was disguised in gracious party regalia.
    The gate opened into the garden and Julie stood for a moment surveying the glittering scene. Men and women dressed in evening clothes were gathered in small groups, chatting casually. Waiters circulated among them with silver trays of champagne and canapés. The courtyard was illuminated by lanterns strung between the trees.
    Margaret Sloane, dressed in a stunning ivory gown, was welcoming guests as they arrived.
    “I’m so glad you could join us this evening,” she said. “You know your way around, don’t you, my dear?”
    Julie nodded. Her background had well prepared her to mix and mingle with the high-society crowd. She’d learned early from her mother that in social situations you did what was correct, not necessarily what was natural.
    She brought a courteous yet slightly reserved smile to her face as she complimented her hostess on the setting before moving into the garden.
    A waiter stopped to offer her a glass of champagne, but she declined and asked where she could find the bar. A glass of club soda with a twist of lemon was more appropriate to the evening’s game plan.
    As she made her way along the circular path that skirted the small fountain, she passed Ambassador Thomas, enjoying an animated conversation with one of the featured sopranos, Geraldine Lowery. The tall, distinguished-looking man glanced up at his young staffer, seemed momentarily surprised, and then nodded a greeting. She returned the salutation with an automatic smile. Although she’d been afraid to ask, she suspected that Cal was running this operation without the knowledge of the embassy’s senior staff. Now that suspicion was even stronger.
    The bar was set up near the French doors that connected a casually decorated garden room to the courtyard. After getting her soda, Julie drifted inside.
    Where was Rozonov? she wondered. Had he arrived yet, or had he decided to skip the party after all? She’d spent the past few days psyching herself up to confront him this evening. Although she still dreaded the meeting, she wanted to get it over with.
    In the wide hallway one of the senior political officers gave her an appreciative smile. “You look absolutely terrific, Julie. You ought to dress this way for the office. It would certainly liven things up.”
    Julie accepted the compliment graciously. In truth, she had dressed carefully for the occasion, finding it easier to think about her hair and makeup than about her assignment for the evening. Her dark tresses were swept up in a