The man who'd entered did not seem shocked at all by the presence of the five foot three, black-haired, rather fancily dressed woman stood in front of his desk. Although Clara was sure he turned his nose up at the fact that her feet were bare and that her shoes lay haphazardly on his desk.

His name was Eric Swartz and he was Russian born but relocated to America when he was five, where he'd managed to build himself a multimillion-dollar car company and held a charity event at his mansion in LA every year.

''What agent have the British intelligence service sent this time?'' Eric spoke looking from her, then at his security ''A teenager by the looks of it,'' he joked answering his own question, before then asking another one, ''how old exactly are you?'' 

'' Thirty-two and I'll take a guess at you being around sixty-two,'' she smirked at him, from her spot stood in front of the desk, her arms crossed as she rested her back against it.

''We have a talker, I always prefer Agents with a mouth, it's easier to get them to spill things they shouldn't,'' the man raised a greying eyebrow, before running his hand through his greying hair on his head. He then turned back to his guards and gestured for them to leave.

''I have a feeling you won't let me leave so why don't you tell me the significance of this list?'' Clara asked picking up the cream coloured sheet of paper that had a list of names from top to bottom, who she corresponded to the names of many well-known celebrities and millionaires.

''Everybody has an expiration date, I'm just making sure that they don't pass it,'' he replied shrugging his shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he slowly approached her, ''now I'm afraid yours is soon, along with...'' he paused taking the paper from her hand scanning over it before he caught the name he was looking for, ''Ah Curtis Jackson.''

''50 cents, you're going to kill 50 cent,'' she burst out, louder than she had needed, but she had to make sure Joe got the message, which was to find fifty.

''Yes and all it'll take is one glass of champagne, come I'll allow you to witness it for yourself,'' her heartbeat quickened as she hoped against all odds that Joe had managed to hear what Eric had just said.

Clara didn't have much of a choice as Eric grabbed her firmly by the wrist and dragged her with him. She was just fast enough to snatch her heels from of the desk and memorise the first names she could see at the top of the list. Unfortunately, she was already halfway down the hall when she'd realised she should have grabbed it too.

The ride down in the lift was silent, Clara placed her heels back on resting her hand on the rail to keep her balance. Eric let out a laugh when she nearly lost her balance and toppled over, but she managed to keep steady. Finally, after slipping back into her heels the lift dinged open revealing the balcony overlooking the entire ballroom. Upon noticing how obviously placed the lift was she wanted to slap herself for not seeing it sooner. She also wanted to slap Rose for not seeing it on the building blueprints.

"Just in time," Clara followed his finger and sure enough there stood 50 cent, mingling with some millionaires and celebrities she didn't recognize.

"Champagne sir," the voice made her jump, but Eric was unfazed as he took the single glass off of the tray that had been placed before him.

"Rest in peace," Eric downed the whole glass at the same time fifty did. Only one of them started choking.

"We all have an expiration date and I'm afraid yours is now," Clara couldn't help, but smirk as the man let out a wheezed breath, his hands clamping around his throat as if he could stop his airways from being blocked off.

"This is only the start," he coughed out, his face turning more and more purple by the second. Clara's face fell at his words.

"The list, we need to get the list," she turned to Joe, who has still had the serving plate in his hands," stay here and find an explanation," just as she turned, Joe placed a hand on her upper arm.

"What the fuck am I supposed to say?" He asked glancing down at the ballroom to see that nobody had noticed Eric's body slumped against the balcony. There was no denying he was dead, that was for sure.

"That you think the champagne was poisoned duh. You are only supposed to be a simple waiter," before he could utter another syllable she was out of his grip and back in the lift.

Clara impanity twiddled her thumbs while she waited in the lift. A sudden feeling of unease crossed over her as she realised that the bodyguards Eric had sent out did not appear to accompany them downstairs.

"Rose, have you got eyes on the two security guys that were with Eric?" Clara asked reaching up to press the earpiece further into her ear since it had come dislodged a little.

"Um they seem to have congregated by the stairs you went up earlier so as long as you're quiet and don't draw attention to yourself you should be fine," Rose replied and Clara nodded knowing her fellow agent would see the action on her computer screen.

For ease of mind, Clara slid off her heels again, this time leaving them by the elevator, before then creeping down the hallway back to Eric's study. Yet again the unusual silence of the corridor overwhelmed her, but she became rather relieved once she'd reached and got back into his study.

That sense of relief quickly faded once she'd reached the now deceased man's desk. The desk that had previously been littered with random notebooks and pieces of paper, was completely empty. Clara felt like bashing her head against it because it was her fault. It was her fault because she hadn't been fast enough getting up the stairs. It was her fault because she'd missed the room in the first place and it was also her fault that she hadn't managed to grab the list quickly enough.

However, she had managed to memorise three names from the list.

Marshall Mathers- Eminem
Andre Young-Dr Dre
Curtis Jackson- 50 cent

Although she no idea how useful that information would be.