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A vein throbbed in the chief’s forehead. I didn’t have to glance behind me to know he didn’t have the backup right there. If anything, the lack of audience reduced his posturing. Still, I might need to stage a “break” for a distraction—Alphabet tapped morse code against the inside of my arm.
Oh, that would work.
The man went to round his desk and I made a “lunge” that had Voodoo elbow me, before he slammed me chest down over the desk and bracing a forearm across my back.
“Can’t you control him?” The chief had retreated three hard steps.
Wimp.
“Clear us or call management,” Voodoo ordered. The tone said obey orelse.
Snarl in place, the chief stormed back to the desk and I had a closeup look at his password as he keyed it in. Yeah, this guy was not used to real threats walking in the door. Doubtful the rest of the staff would be so easy.
An alert beeped and the chief frowned. The angle only let me catch a little of the screen. The priority notice with my details was right there and the wordsurgentdeliveryflashed.
Nice. I hadn’t even seen Alphabet slide in the thumb drive or remove it. He had a gift.
“My apologies,” the chief ground over the words as if they stuck to his tongue like garlic frosted donuts. “I didn’t know he was marked for a private buyer.”
Not bothering to answer him, Voodoo and Alphabet hauled me upright before bypassing him and heading to the next set ofdoors. We were a half-step from them when the locks released with a buzz.
This door opened into a whole new level of sin and debauchery. It was an open casino flooring, with nude women and men delivering drinks and providing otherservices. Security was also placed strategically about the room, but they barely glanced at us.
Sometimes, threat-level swagger was all you needed. The layout we’d mapped needed filling in, so that was exactly what we did as we made our way across the floor toward a new bank of elevators and doors.
“Peacock,” Voodoo said almost under his breath. “Suitcase. Diamond. Sickle. That’s four.”
So four of twelve were already here. Two points to Gallo, he’d been straight with us about that. Maybe we should have killed him a little faster, but he’d been real hesitant about sharing.
Once inside the elevator, Alphabet said, “Thirty seconds.”
I snapped the zip ties with one hard jerk. Then traded with Alphabet for a weapon and jacket. He raked a hand through his hair, smacked his gum, then pulled out his phone.
When the doors opened to an executive level, Voodoo took point with Alphabet shuffling next to him and I shifted to the role of bodyguard. Meetings often occurred on this level, not sales. Though one of the primary bidding rooms was located here.
A guard stepped out of a door ahead of us. He frowned and said something in French, but Voodoo already had him in a headlock and back through the door. He was out ten seconds later and we had a working security badge.
“I have the cameras on this level,” Alphabet said. “It’s not going to last long, so I’m going to have to roll them along with us, just lock the view on the ones we have to pass while we pass them. They have a lot of fail-safes in place.”
“We’ll make it work,” I said, joining Voodoo in a swift search of the room. The table had binders on it with digital pads inside them. No paperwork. Each pad required a fingerprint to open.
Not helpful.
A remote turned on the television screen. The view overlooked a room, stretched long and cold. Industrial lights casting a sterile glow over rows of metal cages. Inside each one stood a man or woman, dressed to impress—sleek suits, tight dresses, every detail curated to draw the eye.
Their bodies were posed like mannequins, expressions vacant but inviting, as if frozen mid-catwalk. The air buzzed with the sound of footsteps—spectators moving slowly, snapping photos, muttering judgments. It was a runway stripped of glamor, a showroom of human display where allure met captivity in a parade of unsettling elegance.
“Bidding will start soon,” Alphabet said. “We need the ‘in.’”
The guard Voodoo dragged in with us wasn’t tall or broad enough for us to use his clothes. We’d just have to fake it. “Then we go downstairs, find the targets, follow them.” We could lift credentials if we had to.
Because we needed the guard to stay quiet and out of sight, I found a small maintenance closet in the back of the room and we stuffed him in there—bound hand and foot, and gagged.
Not perfect, but it would have to do.
“Security camera angles on the main room,” Alphabet said and I joined them to study the images on the screen. “Comm check.”
I pressed the small device just behind my ear. It was flesh-toned and would short out after a day or two, but it worked for quick missions. “Check.”