drug-tech isn’t supposed to leave Diabolique. We have measures in place to–”

“I got out with it.”

“That’s because you had been with me. They thought you were with me, so they didn’t apply their usual rigor of checks they do with other guests leaving.”

Salvi stared at him. She took a moment then softened her features.

“Look, Lance, I believe you when you say Diabolique was all about providing a safe space, about consenting adults doing what they wanted to, but someone has taken your safe space, preyed upon its patrons and turned it into a nightmare. We need to know who supplied you with the stolen tech.”

“I told you, I didn’t know it was stolen.”

“I believe you!” she said. “But I need to know, do you think whoever gave you that tech could be responsible for what’s on the streets now?”

He glanced at his lawyer, then back at her.

“Anything is possible.”

“Who?”

“Do you know who visits Diabolique?” he asked her, shoulders slumping a little. “You saw merely a fraction of who we’ve had down there. The rich, the famous, the powerful. Any one of them would have the contacts to squash me… But they are nothing compared to the one who supplied me this tech.”

Salvi sat back in her chair, studying him. “You’re scared of them…”

“We started the club together…” Chaney eventually said. “Back then we had the same goal, to give the rich and famous somewhere they could relax and indulge. Bit by bit we built up the club, literally floor to ceiling, then we pushed it even further and that’s when we went underground. Even more exclusive, even closer to the edge.” He exhaled. “But then they wanted to take it further still, and I drew my line. We disagreed. I held my ground. Things turned bitter. The partnership ended.”

“How far were they prepared to go?”

Chaney looked at his lawyer who nodded. Chaney looked back to Salvi. “They wanted prostitutes available in Diabolique. I didn’t. It wasn’t about one person buying something from another. That’s not what I wanted my club to be about. It was supposed to be consenting adults, enjoying consensual activities.”

“What about the robo-whores? Same thing, right?”

“No,” he said. “They’re not people. They’re different. Besides, we never provided them in Diabolique, we just never stopped people from bringing them in themselves.”

“So this partner, they just pulled back? Just like that? Who are they?”

“They’re a silent partner. An invisible partner, if you will. They funded the club in the early days while I managed it. They insisted their name never be on anything, that nothing could be linked back to them. You won’t find any digital trace. They’re too smart for that. I soon learned they were smarter than I ever gave them credit for, that they had me over a barrel. While they were funding the club, I was their lackey. So I got smart too and eventually raised enough cash and offered to buy them out so they would leave me alone.”

“But they haven’t,” Salvi said. “Now they’re preying on your clientele.”

Chaney considered her statement. “Possibly. We made a lot of money together. Where I reinvested into more clubs, they turned their money into power. The power went to their head, and they turned dangerous.”

“How so?”

“Because they’ve built a small army around them.” Chaney looked down at the table, then back up at Salvi, “and they’ve become untouchable. They know everyone’s secrets. Why do you think they’ve gotten away with things for so long? Because they have dirt on everyone. Your cops, your politicians. Half of them are visitors to either my club or theirs.”

“They own another club?”

Chaney realized his slip up. “I’ve never seen it, I’ve just heard rumors.”

“And why do you keep saying ‘they’?” Salvi demanded.

Chaney smiled. “I never found out their name.”

“Bullshit.”

Chaney shook his head. “That was part of the deal. All communication was done through their henchmen to pass on messages.”

“You took money from a nameless person without any questions?”

“Oh, I had questions,” he said, “but I was young and hungry, so I looked past it in order to feed my own aspirations.”

“So you don’t have a name,” Salvi said, unsure whether she believed him, “but you know how to contact them.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I told you, they’re a ghost. They don’t want to be found. They have an entire team of hackers cleaning up their digital traces, of souped-up personal security keeping them safe. You won’t find them.”

“I don’t believe that, Lance. You’re too smart to take some ghost’s word as gospel and take their money. You’ve met them. Give our AI a physical description of them. Are they male or female?”

“I only met them once in person. They wore a big coat and a digital mask.”

“A digital mask?” she straightened.

“Yeah, just like the one you saw in Diabolique. They’re basically a gimp mask but they have a series of presets that project an image so you can change the appearance of it. When I spoke to them, the face on that mask was of a blonde woman. I have no idea what they look like.”

“What about build? Any tattoos? Anything of note?”

Chaney shrugged. “They wore a long bulky coat. I have no idea if they were male or female.”

“Hair color?”

“It was a full head digital mask.”

“Skin color?”

“No idea, they wore gloves. I saw no skin at all.”

“Voice?”

“Digitized.”

Salvi sat back in her chair again. “You have to know more than this.”

“I’ve spent my life working elite clubs,” he told her. “Trust me, the richer and more powerful they are, the weirder they can get. So when this person approaches me wearing a digital mask and compliments me on how I run my bar and offers me cash to run theirs, and when I say offers me cash, I mean they had a bag full of it right there in front of me, I jumped at the chance. I’d never seen so much money and I was done with the club I was working at the time. I’d been busting my ass

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