Sam had picked a table where he would have a good view of the one reserved for Mirin and her guest. He didn’t worry about Drake spotting him because of the special virtue of Club Voyeur. Sam’s table was in the Lower Hall, separated from the Upper Hall by a wall of the finest one-way Transparex. At Club Voyeur, the wealthy and powerful dined undisturbed by the lower classes, while simultaneously being on display for the edification of those same folk. Sam thought that only vanity and arrogance would make someone voluntarily take part in an event in the Upper Hall. Club Voyeur was a bastion of class consciousness, from the magnificent platinum salt cellar in the shape of an ancient sailing ship that lay embedded in the Transparex to the waiters, whose haughtiness could only be softened by a sufficient bribe. The food, of course, was superb.