Salvi smiled. “I can’t wait.”
8: GOLD ON THE CEILING
Salvi stood in the empty office tenancy with the Trident team.
“I can’t believe you caught up so fast,” Kara said folding her arms. “I’ve been on this for months!”
“Yeah, you went in as a dealer,” Ford said. “That takes time to build trust. Brentt has gone in as a single rich woman and potential client. It’s easier.”
“Well, I might just see you on the Ceiling anyway,” Kara said. “These rich girls I’m in with, one of them just got her pass. Don’t ask what she did to get it.” Kara closed her eyes and shook her head with a look of disgust.
Ford turned to Bronte. “Anything with you?”
“I’m making friends,” he said. “One guy’s been bragging about his connections. He reckons he can get some hard shit, so we’ll see what that’s all about.”
“This the guy that asked the woman if she’d like to take flight?” Salvi asked.
Bronte nodded. “Strangely enough I haven’t seen her at the club since.”
“Interesting,” Ford said. “Should we be concerned about that?”
“You tell me,” Bronte said.
“Well, hopefully I’ll find some answers tonight,” Salvi said. “Like who broke the trust of the Ceiling and leaked these drugs.”
Noble nodded. “And who is out there desperately cleaning up the leak before their exclusivity is destroyed.”
“Well,” Ford said, “Thanks to the media coverage, the last couple of nights have eased off, but I don’t know how long this will last.” She turned to Sorensen. “Any further update from Narcotics?”
He nodded. “We’ve got the full make-up of the Fyte drugs and the compounds they contain. Fyte is part cocaine, part meth, part anabolic steroid, mixed with hormone enhancers used to boost testosterone production, along with actual doses of human testosterone. Where they’re harvesting it from, we don’t know, but it contains incredibly high inputs of each element. We’re actually surprised there haven’t been cardiac arrests from its use as yet.”
“It’ll come,” Ford said, “the more widespread the usage gets, and certainly when the cheaper knock-offs hit the streets.” She turned to Noble, “Anything new from Cyber?”
“Drone surveillance hasn’t turned up much, but we did pick up John Dorant near Floor to Ceiling last night.”
“You did?” Salvi asked.
Noble nodded. “The drone lost him, though. He went into a building and never came out, apparently. We think the disappearance was an intentional tactic to lose the drone.”
“Any sighting of his buddy Francis Mellon?” Salvi asked.
“No,” Noble said. “He’s apparently been working from home and staying out of sight.”
Salvi looked at Ford. “I need to try talking to Myki Natashi again.”
“I spoke to her. She’s not talking.”
“You need to let me try.”
“No, Brentt. We discussed this. You gotta stay away. Focus on Chaney.”
“Mellon’s involved somehow,” Salvi said. “And if he’s involved, we can bet Dorant is too.”
“Dorant has always been on our suspect list,” Sorensen said, “but he’s toward the bottom. The problem is the guy’s never had links to drugs before. Money laundering, weapons, a whole raft of shit, yes, but never drugs. The guy lost his father to the stuff and swore against it.”
“What about the tech?”
Noble shook his head. “No previous connection with Dorant, but I guess you never know.”
“And he doesn’t own any clubs,” Ford said. “Restaurants, yes, but not bars or clubs.”
“Well maybe he’s adjusting his business to suit market demand.”
“Brentt,” Ford warned. “Chaney. He’s your goddamn focus.”
Salvi held her hand up. “I’m on it. Tonight I’ll hit the Ceiling with him, and with a bit of luck, he’ll want to show me his basement.”
“Test her tracker,” Ford turned to Noble. He nodded, opened his datatop and tapped away at the keys. After a moment, he turned the screen to Ford and showed her two devices were registering on his software: the chip they’d implanted in her digital nails, and the one in her powder compact.
“Remember,” Noble said, “the device in your nail polish will constantly track you. Your compact is your emergency beacon. Open it once to turn it on and engage the tracker. Twice to raise an alarm, and thrice to turn it off. Understood?”
“Understood,” Salvi said, studying the crushed mirror ball effect on her nails.
“Alright,” Ford said and turned to Salvi once more. “It’s time to hit the Ceiling.”
Salvi sat at the bar on the first floor, waiting for Chaney. She was dressed in a slinky black dress with a short flowing skirt and glowing wedge heels. She looked sexy, but she made sure she was also comfortable. She wanted to ensure her body was prepared for whatever it needed to be. If she had to move quickly, she did not want some stupid dress or stilettos hindering her movement.
As the time marched on, she started to think he was standing her up. Then again, she figured Chaney was a guy who didn’t work normal office hours. He worked club hours. It was past eleven but that was probably only mid-morning to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he finally showed, slipping onto the bar stool beside her. “I had to take an urgent business call that ran longer than I expected.”
“Is everything alright?”
“It’s fine. I handled it. But that’s why I’m late. Now,” he said looking around, “how about we go somewhere more exciting and secluded?”
“Sounds good to me.”
He led her over to where the muscled security stood before the velvet curtain. They stepped aside automatically for Chaney, pulling the curtain aside, and Salvi followed him up a flight of stairs to the second floor. As they reached the landing, she saw unusual silver cylindrical doors ahead that looked as though they might belong to an elevator. To the left was a Bio-Lume-lit doorway, which he waved briefly to as two women exited.
“This is a quieter venue, where people can talk,” he said.
Through the open doorway Salvi saw soft Bio-Lume lighting in all manner of shapes
