Stirling enjoys a wonderful lie in on Saturday morning, basking in the warmth and comfort of her bed, teetering just on the edge of consciousness. She stretches leisurely and reaches out to the other side of the bed. Empty. She opens her eyes and looks. Damn! It was a dream.

With quite a bit of effort, she manages to sit upright in the bed and wiggle her legs over the side. I'm working up a sweat just trying to get out of the bloody bed.

She's feeling grump as she waddles to the loo.

Five minutes later, she stands staring into her suitcase, trying to decide what to wear. She plans to visit the Royal Festival Hall after lunch to meet up with Duncan and the rest of Strip Search during the band's rehearsal time. She's planning on staying with them until the fundraising dinner begins at five o'clock. The music and dancing is expected to start an hour later.

She decides to dress comfortably, pulling on a pair of maternity jeans and an oversized black Depeche Mode T-shirt. She also shrugs into a comfy dark green button-up sweater of Joe's she has claimed as her own. In her rucksack, she packs the outfit she plans to wear tonight. She manages to contort herself enough to zip up her tall boots before plopping an old wool fedora on her head and clomping downstairs to the kitchen.

She's surprised to find Christopher in front of the cooker, micro-managing an omelet while Leyland reads The Times at the small breakfast nook. Michael's also seated at the small table, drinking a tea and perusing The Guardian.

"Good morning! Why are you all hiding in here?"

Michael doesn't even look up from his newspaper. "Christy's afraid of your Chief. He's been skulking about in here waiting for you to come down before he'll go in the dining room."

"You're joking!" Stirling says, shocked.

Christy looks up from the cooker. "What on Earth are you wearing? You look like an eight-month-along pregnant woman who's ready to go clubbing."

Leyland and Michael instantly look up from their newspapers.

"Is that my old Depeche Mode concert shirt?" Michael asks. "I wondered where that went."

"I found it in Leyland's rag bag years ago," she says, grabbing a piece of bacon from a plate on the counter and shoving it in her mouth. "Come on you spineless wankers. Be good hosts and eat brekkie with your guests."

She grabs Michael's arm and manages to pull him up out of his chair while also dragging Christopher away from the cooker. She pushes them both through the swinging door into the dining room where the Doc and Louisa sit eating their breakfast and leafing through a few of the other morning newspapers.

"Good morning Chief, Louisa," she says cheerfully, settling into a chair at the large, formal table. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," says Louisa with a smile. "The room is very comfortable, thank you."

The Doc looks up from his newspaper and grunts. "What on Earth are you wearing? You look like a pregnant gangster."

Stirling laughs before Louisa can reprimand her husband.

"Thank goodness! That's exactly the look I was going for."

Michael and Christopher both choke back laughs as they fill their plates from chafing dishes lined up on top of the buffet.

They've just settled at the table when Leyland walks through the door with The Times tucked under his arm. Noticing Stirling is without any food, he quickly fills a plate from the selection at the buffet and delivers it to her. "I thought you might be interested in the article on page 3, Miss Stirling," he says, handing her the newspaper along with breakfast. "It mentions Mr. Joe."

She looks up at him with wide-eyed surprise. "Really?" she almost whispers.

All movement at the table ceases as the others watch her grab the newspaper with trembling hands and open it impatiently to page 3. She laughs with delight.

"There he is!" she cries with excitement, folding over the page so they can all see the large photo of Joe and his fellow search team. She notes the sling on his left arm. "He sent me a message last night saying they had found the missing hikers but he didn't say how. Or why his arm is in a sling."

"Knowing your Sergeant, he probably fell down some hole," Michael says dryly.

Stirling glares across the table at him before bending her head to read the article. They all watch her as she reads excitedly, her eyes moving swiftly left to right. After a few lines, she blushes.

"He did fall down a hole," she says to Michael, looking somewhat embarrassed. "But because of that, they found the hikers. They'd fallen down a similar abandoned mineshaft. The search team came up with the idea to look for recent cave-ins after Joe fell in one."

She keeps reading, frowning slightly.

"They also found the body of a local man who's been missing for several years. Seems this Bryce fellow fell in the mineshaft, broke his back, and lay there for days. It's believed he died after no one was able to find him."

She shudders, feeling a bit sick to her stomach at the idea.

"Anyway, the two hikers are alive and well and being treated at hospital in Penzance for minor injuries and dehydration. And it was Joe's search team that saved the day. Aces!"

Louisa smiles at her enthusiasm, realizing it's the perkiest she's seen Stirling in days. It's more than the pregnancy that's been dragging her down. She's been pining for Joe.

"Can I see that article?" the Doc asks, reaching across the table.

"Certainly!" Stirling practically vibrates in her chair with excitement as she hands it to him. Joe's coming home! I'll be able to see him again tomorrow evening!


Joe is completely zonked out across the rear seat as the police van pulls back onto the A30 just outside of Bodmin. The painkillers have finally kicked in and he's been snoring quietly for the past hour, much to PC Gibbons' great disgust.

"I wish I could have some painkillers for my face," the young officer mutters bitterly, rubbing at his swollen jaw.

"We all wish we could have some painkillers for your face," PC Tuinhoff quips, causing Sergeant Becker to burst into laughter. He quickly looks back in the rear view mirror, relieved to see Joe is still asleep, despite the noise.

"Keep it down," he growls. "We don't want to wake up sleeping beauty. He's finally calmed down enough to nod off. I don't want him hovering over my shoulder again, urging me to go faster."

"Sleeping beauty, my arse; more like sleeping wanker," PC Gibbons mumbles grumpily.

"What do you have against the Sarge?" PC Tuinhoff asks, looking over his shoulder into the middle seating area. "You've been practically up his bum since this assignment started. Teasing him about where he lives, making rude comments about his missus. Hell, we had a pool going on when he was actually going to pound you. He held off longer than any of us thought he would."

"If anyone's been acting like a wanker, it's been you," adds Sergeant Becker.

PC Gibbons glares at the two men sitting in front of him, flipping them the two-finger salute.

"I saw that," Sergeant Becker says with a laugh.

PC Gibbons lets out a deep sigh. "I really don't have anything against the bloke. He just seems to keep turning up in my life like an annoying rash. A year back, he was receiving his sergeant stripes the same time I was being sworn in. During the ceremony, there was this stunning posh bird in the audience. And I thought she was making eyes at my mate and me. So we started making eyes back. Ended up disrupting the ceremony. We got a dressing down afterwards I'll remember until the end of time. Turns out, she was making eyes at the Sarge, who was sitting right behind us."

"You silly tosser!" Sergeant Becker says as he and PC Tuinhoff start laughing.

"She's now his missus," PC Gibbons whines, making the two men laugh even harder.

"Then, about five months ago, a short-term posting came up for the Sarge's patch, Portwenn. I lost out to that crazy anorak, Garrett; seems he's worked there before. And then the jammy bastard meets this incredibly bang-tidy piece of arse while on patrol in the village."

The two officers in the front seat snicker some more.

"I almost fell over when the Sarge showed up as part of the recruit pool for the Special Ops selection, snoggin' with his now pregnant missus in the car park. After two weeks on the moor, I almost forgave him for having one of the finest examples of sex on legs. But then I meet this fetchin' bird at a salon where I stop in to get a haircut. We're getting friendly and she seems interested. We go out a couple of times and then I find out she's his ex-wife."

Sergeant Becker and PC Tuinhoff are now practically weeping from laughing so hard.

"Keep laughin'. I'm still seeing that bit of skirt," PC Gibbons says with a grin. "I'm thinking about taking her to the Policeman's Ball."

Sergeant Becker looks back at him in the rear view mirror with a frown. "You're playing with fire, Gibbons. And I don't mean with the Sarge – he's completely gaga over his missus and won't give a duck who you bring. But if you're using that bird and she finds out, she'll give you a hurting you won't soon forget. Don't screw over a woman, mate. They always get even in the end."

PC Gibbons looks offended. "That's not it at all. I like the bint. She's a lot of fun."

"Now I'm curious; what made you decide to come along on the trip?" asks PC Tuinhoff.

PC Gibbons looks at him like he's mad. "Are you kiddin'? I've never been up to the Smoke. I'm not passin' up on an opportunity to do that!"

The three men fall into a comfortable silence as the van motors toward London, Joe still sprawled out and snoring in the back.


Stirling shakes her head and chuckles softly to herself as Leyland follows her onto the lift, her guitar case in one hand, rucksack in the other.

"You do realize I am perfectly capable of carrying that myself?"

"And I am perfectly capable of carrying it for you, Miss Stirling," Leyland says patiently, pressing the button for the second floor.

She braces her legs shoulder length apart as the lift begins to move. My balance is definitely not as good as it used to be. Her stomach lurches, and the baby kicks hard, as the lift comes to a stop and the doors open.

Guitar music echoes out of a large opening two doors wide that leads through to a giant ballroom. As Stirling walks through, she notices a stage at the far end of the room. It's crowded with musicians jamming to The Eagles' Hotel California.

"Sounds like life with Strip Search," she says loudly during a lull in the music. "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."

Duncan looks up from his electric guitar and grins. "Stirling!" He gives a double take when he notices her stomach. "There are two of you! In the same body!"

"Yes, it is getting rather crowded in here," she says with a laugh, looking down and rubbing her belly.

Duncan jumps down from the stage – followed by Toby, Erick and a few other members of the band – and gives her a big hug. "It's great to see you again, duck. How long has it been? A year?"

"It's been five months, Duncan," she says laughing.

"Oh. Why does it feel longer than that?"

"Oy, Duncan, look! She has her own guitar caddy," Toby says, gesturing toward Leyland, who is standing discreetly to the side.

The lead guitarist gives the bassist a dirty look. "That's no caddy! Leyland, how have you been? Is that goofy uncle of mine treating you okay? As soon as you get tired of babysitting him and the devil's sidekick, you can come take care of me, all right?"

"Yes, Mr. Duncan," Leyland says evenly, suddenly reminding Stirling of P.G. Wodehouse's long-suffering Reginald Jeeves.

As the baby presses painfully at a tender spot between two ribs, she suddenly wishes she had her own Jeeves, who was also a trained midwife. And masseuse. She glances over Duncan's shoulder.

"It looks like the band's grown. A lot!"

He grins. "We brought in some extras for this event. I wanted to give Uncle Christy a good show for his fette. But we do have a new singer. You have to meet her."

Putting his arm around her shoulders, he slowly herds her toward the stage, where various people are setting up microphone stands, instruments, speakers and other equipment.

"Those aren't actual roadies, are they?" Stirling asks in awe.

"We're going all out for this gig, Stirling," brags Erick.

"So it would seem."

"Becca," Duncan shouts, waving to a petite woman rushing by. She's cute in a pixie kind-of way with a curly mop of red hair and a face full of freckles. She's carrying a plastic crate filled with microphone cords.

"Becca, this is Stirling. Stirling, meet Becca. Stirling used to be lead singer of Strip Search before she ran off to Cornwall to become a doctor or some such nonsense. Let this be a lesson to you," he says, giving the small red head a serious look. "If you ever leave the band for any reason, within a year you'll end up living in some backwater fishing village, married to a plod and up the duff."

"Nice!" Stirling says laughing. "Why don't you just petrify the poor girl? And you make it sound like living in Portwenn with Joe and being pregnant is a bad thing."

They all look back at her with serious faces.

"It isn't! Really!"

Becca laughs. "Nice to meet you," she says in a throaty, sexy voice, shaking Stirling's hand. "I've heard a lot about you. The blokes at the Bristol Bobby really miss you. I just can't fill your boots when it comes to performing I Want You To Want Me."

She looks down at Stirling's high boots before moving up to her large belly. "And now I see why."

The two women laugh comfortably together. I like this one, she has spunk. And she needs it with this lot.

Stirling turns back toward Leyland. "I'll take those off your hands now," she says, reaching for her guitar case and bag.

He moves past her toward the stage, keeping the items from her grasp. "Where would be a suitable place to set Miss Stirling's belongings, Mr. Duncan?" he asks.

Duncan quickly shows Leyland up to the backstage area while Toby and Erick stay with Stirling.

"You going to jam with us, sexy?" Toby asks with a grin.

"Absobloodylutely," she answers enthusiastically. "I've been looking forward to this for weeks."

Duncan walks back to the group followed closely by Leyland.

"Maybe we can get you to play some piano for us later tonight," the lead guitarist suggests.

"You mean up on stage?"

"Sure! Why not?"

Leyland frowns with disapproval.

"I'd bloody well love it!" Her brow wrinkles slightly. "I'm not all that nimble at the moment so don't expect any fancy dance moves."

"All you have to do is sit at the piano and bang on the keys," Duncan assures her. "We'd love to have you."

If I could still jump up and down, I would!

Leyland clears his throat politely.

"Miss Stirling, do you think it's wise to be exerting yourself performing publicly while in your current condition?" he asks, looking concerned. "You are only five weeks away from your due date."

"It would only be for a few songs, Leyland," says Duncan. "And she'd be sitting on a piano bench the whole time. My god, you're acting like an old woman!"

"I'm not sure how your uncle and Mr. Michael are going to feel about this," the chauffeur says, giving Duncan a warning look.

"Enough with the faffing!" Stirling says loudly, standing between Duncan and Leyland. "I can't stand fussing."

She turns to Duncan, "It will only be for a few songs; that's it! And if I find I can't physically do it, I'll have to bow out. Okay?"

He nods his head.

She turns to Leyland. "It will only be for a few songs. I'll be sitting down the whole time. I will be perfectly fine. And so will the baby."

He doesn't look convinced. "What would Mr. Joe say?"

That's part of the problem. Mr. Joe isn't here.


Joe sits in the back of the police van, frantically trying to remember the information he's searching for in his brain. Where is the benefit being held?

"It's Royal something," he says, flinching as the van goes over a bump, jarring his broken hand.

"That's the name of half the bloody buildings in the city, you wally!" PC Tuinhoff says with a laugh as he gazes out the side window at the busy street.

Desperate, Joe rings home.

"Arthur?" he shouts into his mobile as music blasts in his ear. "Arthur? Turn down the bloody music!"

He's silent for a moment, waiting.

"Thanks. It's Sergeant Penhale. You're not having a beano at my house are you? Are you sure? The music was pretty loud. Arthur, listen, I need your help. What's the name of the place where Dr. Bond is having his benefit? There should be flyer on the refrigerator."

Joe waits impatiently for PC Garrett to check.

"The Royal Festival Hall? Brilliant! What's the address?"

He inputs the information into his mobile's GPS and smiles as the map pops up.

"You're a lifesaver, Arthur. Try not to play the music too loud. And cleanup after everyone leaves."

It takes the officers about 30 minutes to find the hall and almost as long to find somewhere to park the van.

"That was bloody well ridiculous," PC Gibbons complains as they speed walk away from the multi storey. "Twenty pounds? To park a police van? We should have put the darbies on him and thrown him in the back."

Joe is practically running down the pavement, trying to get to the festival hall as quickly as possible. People leap out of the way as soon as they see the black-clad police officer, with his arm in a sling, barrelling toward them. The fact he's being followed by three other officers, all wearing Special Ops caps and jackets, causes some alarm.

"What's going on?" a young man asks, grabbing PC Tuinhoff by the arm as he tries to race by.

"No time, mate. Have to get to the hall as quickly as possible."

The young man watches after them, his eyes wide in alarm as they jog down the pavement. As he turns to walk away, he reaches in his pocket for his mobile.

Joe charges through the front doors of the festival hall complex and is immediately met by a new challenge – there's multiple floors with different events being held on each one. And he doesn't remember what Dr. Bond's event is called.

It's raising money for something. And a whole lot of doctors are attending.

He turns to the security station where two uniformed guards are watching him with great interest.

"Is there a problem officers?" the more senior of the guards asks.

"No problem," says Joe. "We're looking for a benefit being attended by a whole shower of doctors."

The two guards look at him suspiciously.

"Is there a safety issue? A bomb threat?"

"No, no!" Joe says impatiently. "I need to speak with someone who is attending the event."

"Is this part of an ongoing investigation?"

Joe feels like he's about to go spare. "Do you know what floor the benefit is on or not?"

The two guards look at one another and then pick a clipboard up off their desk.

"There's a Chloe's Club fundraiser being held on the second floor. It's for a childhood cancer charity."

"That's the one!" Joe says, snapping the fingers of his right hand and pointing at the guards. "Second floor, mates," he says, turning to his fellow officers while looking about for the nearest lift.

As they stand, waiting for the lift to arrive, two well-dressed couples come through the main door and join them. They stare curiously at the officers.

"Is there a problem in the building?" one of the tuxedo-clad men asks.

"No problem," says PC Tuinhoff. "We're just looking for someone."

Just then, the lift doors open and Joe rushes through them, madly pressing the button for the second floor. The other three officers file on. PC Tuinhoff looks curiously at the two couples.

"We'll wait for the next one," the tuxedo man says.

Joe fidgets impatiently as the lift slowly rises. Thankfully, it doesn't stop on the first floor. The doors aren't even fully open before Joe slides through, banging his injured hand off the side of the lift. He dances around in pain for a moment, before looking around the reception area.

The place smells like expensive booze and high-priced perfume. Joe can hear a rock band playing a funky rendition of I Will Survive in the distance. A pair of stunning women in long ball gowns stare at him in surprise as they stand behind an antique desk located beside the entrance to a large ballroom.

PC Gibbons gives a low whistle of appreciation. "Look at that bang-tidy pair," he says quietly. "I'm calling bags on the blonde."

"Tone it down, Romeo," Sergeant Becker says as the four of them walk up to the desk.

"Is there a problem, officers?" the blonde asks.

"Not anymore," says PC Gibbons with a lecherous smile. He's immediately elbowed by Sergeant Becker.

Joe is becoming extremely tired of being asked that question. "Yes there is. I need to speak with one of your guests right away."

"Is it an emergency?" asks the brunette.

He looks at her incredulously. "It will be in a minute," he says impatiently.

"And who are you looking for?"

"Dr. Stirling Aylesworth."

The two women look at one another and then over at him with open curiosity. "Dr. Christopher Bond's friend?"

"Yes."

"You can go right in," the brunette says hastily. "Sorry for the delay."

The other three officers stare at Joe in amazement as he quickly walks into the ballroom. The room is packed with extremely well-dressed people. Some are up dancing, others are standing around the bar area and even more sit around large tables, chatting and watching the people on the dance floor.

"Bloody hell," he curses softly, wildly looking around for Stirling. He can't see her anywhere. He's to the point he'd settle for a familiar face when his prayers are answered.

"Doc!" he calls, striding between small groups of chatting people to reach the Doc, who is talking with a tall, distinguished-looking, silver-haired man. "Doc! Am I ever glad to see you!"

The typically cold, sardonic blue eyes open wide in disbelief. "Pen-Joe!"

The Doc glances behind him, taking in the three other black-clad officers. "What are you doing here? We thought you'd be back in Portwenn by now."

"We took a slight detour. Do you know where Stirling is?"

The Doc clears his throat awkwardly. "The last time I saw her, she was with her friends in the band."

Joe gives him a quizzical look. "The band? But aren't they playing right now?"

He looks toward the large stage on the far side of the room. A rather large group of people are dancing in front of the raised area. They range in age from teenagers to seniors.

The band has grown in size since the last time Joe saw them. He recognizes Duncan on the lead guitar plus a few of the other members but notices there are several new female singers plus a brass and strings section. They are currently performing a rocking version of The Go Gos' Head Over Heels being sung by a fedora-wearing woman on the grand piano.

And then he recognizes her. At least he thinks it's Stirling. She's sitting at the piano dressed head to toe in black with her hair back in a pony tail under the hat. Her fingers are flying over the keyboard as she belts out the song, a red-head singing back-up beside her. His heart leaps with excitement. But as he slowly approaches the dance floor, his excitement is replaced by concern and then annoyance.

"What the bloody hell is she doing?" he asks himself out loud, his three fellow officers staring in disbelief at the very pregnant woman singing and banging away on the piano.

Joe manages to wander through the maze of tables and is about to walk onto the dance floor when Louisa suddenly appears in front of him.

"Joe!" she says with surprise. She glances behind him at the three other officers and gives a little wave.

"She's eight months pregnant," he thunders, pointing up at the stage with his good hand. "What the hell is she doing up there?"

People from several nearby tables look over at the sound of his raised voice.

Louisa glances quickly over her shoulder before turning back to him. "They invited her to play with them," she explains. "You know what she's like. She was practically vibrating in her chair with excitement. She was dying to play."

"She could have said no! She should have said no!" Joe says loudly. "You should have stopped her!"

Louisa can honestly say this is the angriest she has ever seen Joe. And she's concerned.

"Stop Stirling?" she laughs ruefully. "When her mind is set on something?"

And then Christopher is standing next to Louisa. "Joe! We weren't expecting you! Congratulations on your team's success. We read all about it in The Times this morning. It included a rather splendid photo of you." He pauses and looks behind Joe. "Plus some of these other gentlemen with you. Welcome!"

"Have you all lost your bloody minds?" Joe shouts, becoming more agitated. "She's due in five weeks! And she's up on a stage performing with a rock band! What's she going to do next? Back flips across the stage?"

He moves around the small gathering blocking his way and is about to walk across the dance floor when the band reaches the end of the song. Everyone applauds and whistles madly.

"Thank you!" Duncan shouts into his microphone. "I'd like to thank my good friend Stirling – most of you know her as Dr. Aylesworth – for joining us up here to sing and play piano on a few songs."

Joe stops as there's more applause and whistling.

"I'd ask her to take a bow but she can't really see her feet anymore and we might not get her upright again."

The audience laughs while Stirling throws a crushed paper cup at Duncan, beaning him in the head.

Joe finds himself chuckling softly.

"As a special treat, we've decided to let Stirling choose the last song for this set."

She leans forward at the piano and adjusts her microphone closer to her mouth. "This is one of my favourite love songs. I'd like to dedicate it to my husband. I miss you very much, Lover Boy, and look forward to seeing you when I get home."

Joe stands still in the middle of the dance floor as she begins to play the opening notes on the piano.

"Nobody does it better," Stirling sings. "Makes me feel sad for the rest. Nobody does it, half as good as you. Baby, you're the best."

Several couples swaying on the dance floor watch with curiosity as the police officer in black, with his arm in a sling, walks slowly up to the stage.

"I wasn't looking, but somehow you found me. I tried to hide from your love light. But like heaven above me, the copper who loved me, is keeping all my secrets safe tonight."

As he watches her sing and play, Joe feels his anger and frustration ebbing away. She really is stunning sitting up there, the spotlight shining on her.

He gives his head a shake. She shouldn't be up there. She knows better.

"Baby, baby, darling, you're the best. Baby, you're the best. Baby, you're the best."

The applause is thunderous as the final notes fade away.

"We're going to take a 15 minute break," announces Duncan. "But we'll be back soon to take your requests."

Joe never takes his eyes off Stirling as she slides the bench away from the piano. She carefully shuts the keyboard cover and slowly stands up, obviously struggling to manoeuvre her belly around the large instrument. Duncan stands nearby, ready to steady her, but she keeps her balance. She turns and says something to him, smiling. And then she pauses, a slight frown on her face. She looks out at the audience, her eyes travelling wildly about the room, eventually landing on him. They widen in surprise and, slowly, her face brightens with a huge grin.

Joe finds himself grinning back.

And then she's scrambling, not sure what to do. Should I jump off the stage or go down the stairs?

Duncan pulls her toward the stairs in the wings. She tries to keep sight of Joe as he drags her behind the side curtain.

Joe slowly walks along the front of the stage, trying to keep her in sight. Suddenly, she's in front of him, her face glowing with excitement and her huge, bright smile.

"Surprise, Cheeky!"

"Lover Boy," she whispers softly, throwing her arms around him and kissing him hard. He flinches from the pain as her belly hits his injured hand but he doesn't care. He puts his one good arm around her and pulls her closer. Neither one of them wants to stop, come up for air. But they have to.

They pull apart breathlessly, looking at one another. Joe looks down at her belly. "You've grown bigger," he says softly, touching the top of her stomach just in time to feel a hard kick.

"And that's what he thinks of that," Stirling says as he laughs.

He pulls her against him again. "What the hell were you doing up there on that stage?" he growls in her ear.

"Singing and playing the piano?"

"Do you really think you should have been up there?"

"It wasn't that strenuous. I was sitting the whole time."

He brushes her damp hair back from her face. "That's why you're soaked with sweat."

"It was the lights; they're hot."

"You're five weeks away from your due date, Cheeky."

Joe grabs her hand, turning to lead her from in front of the stage. That's when they realize most of the people in the ballroom are watching them.

Stirling hesitates, her hand hovering over her belly, her face red with embarrassment, as the audience begins to applaud.

"Snog with her some more, Sarge," PC Gibbons shouts loudly to much laughter.

Joe's only too willing to accommodate them, turning and kissing Stirling passionately, even putting a tiny dip into it.

And that's when a small unit from The Met storms the ballroom. "Nobody move," a voice booms out loudly as the lights come up.