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My feet come to an abrupt stop. “What?”
“Yeah, but it’s fourteen years old, which coincides with the time Nocturne sold the company to Delta and went to prison.”
I continue walking to the divider between number 15 and 13. “Any further leads on Nocturne’s identity?”
“The recruiter or content manager doesn’t know anything more. We’ve tried everything, but Nocturne was careful with his paper trail.”
As I continue into Mrs. Baker’s crawlspace and through the tunnel leading into the catacombs, Tyler updates me on the information his team gathered from the Ministry of Mayhem. He’s already cross-referenced the registrations of the cars parked around the tour bus, and he hacked into the online booking service they used to collect ticket payments.
“Guess what?” He doesn’t give me a chance to speculate. “The Land Rover attached to that trailer is registered to Melonie Crowley. It looks like Nocturne and Delta are working together.”
My jaw clenches. “Or, Dolly is teaming up with Nocturne to take down Delta.”
I hesitate, picturing Amethyst’s mother going against a man like Father. Everything I’ve seen and heard from that woman indicates a highly strung personality, not cool-headed enough to execute a drawn-out plan.
“Third option, and it’s a longshot. Harlan Stills beat the lie detector and NocturneisDelta.”
Tyler barks a laugh. “A stay in prison might explain why he’s been quiet for a few years.”
“Nothing is impossible,” I mutter. “Anything else?”
Tyler updates me on the team’s progress. Jynxson will tail the Land Rover, while the others have split up into groups to follow the tour bus and tail members whose names are associated with New Alderney’s major crime consortiums.One of them has to lead to Nocturne. Or Father, if they’re one and the same.
I continue through the catacombs to a control room, where Tyler sits at an L-shaped desk with his two assistants, Calvin and Denise, operatives we poached from the firm’s IT department.
Its walls are stone, as are most chambers within the catacombs, except every wall is covered with monitors displaying feeds. Each feed shows live surveillance footage from cameras positioned all over the city, including the tour bus and Land Rover.
Denise twirls around and flashes me a grin. “Hey, Xero. Number 13 went up for sale with the Mancini Real Estate and Auction Company. The virtual tour is already up online, and the open house days are tomorrow and the day after. Do you want to make a pre-auction offer?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Let’s see if we can take out the seller before the auction even starts. We don’t need to buy something Amethyst might inherit in a few days.”
She snickers. “Good plan.”
Calvin holds up an envelope. “This arrived while you were at the club.”
“Another one?” I snarl.
“As usual, it’s addressed to ‘Bitch,’” he says.
I take the envelope and slip it into my pocket. There’s no point in souring my mood tonight with a picture of a tortured and naked child.
Their phone rings. “It’s Jynxson,” says Calvin. “He just followed the Land Rover downtown into an underground parking lot.”
I turn to the monitors. “Which one is his feed?”
“Patching him onto the big screen,” Denise says.
The largest monitor comes to life, revealing the vehicle pulling into a dimly lit lot. Each space is numbered, indicating that we’ve followed the driver into an apartment building.
“Put Jynxson on speaker.” I lower myself into a spare seat.
“He’s just parked at 113 Metro Tower,” Jynxson says.
“He?” I ask.
“Male and female occupants,” Jynxson answers. “Following him into the apartment building at this time of the night is going to be tricky. Permission to render them unconscious.”
“Granted,” I mutter.
