Page 14 of Prey It By Ear

Felix gives her a proud look as he replies, “You’re exactly the kind of pred who should have an opinion, then, Princess. Because you don’t want to control people or squeeze them for what they give… you want them to be happy and free. However, I agree that if this whole thing goes belly up like we expect that the new leadership should be for and by everyone. And though I wanted to be king after my dad, I do not want to be king anymore.”

My eyes widen. “Seriously, bro?”

He nods. “I just want to be with my mate and my snarky ass family, doing things we enjoy, without being hunted by assholes. I’m not sure I know when that changed, but I’d say sometime after our girl arrived and blew up the entire world in front of us.”

Dolly turns bright red and waves her hand at him. “Felix Khan, you stop before you make me mushy or I’m going to turn the table and spank you tonight. After Fitz does acrobatics, of course, but still.”

Fuck, I absolutely adore my family, and I cannot wait to see her try that shit tonight.

Espionage

Renard

It did not take long to locate the rooms belonging to Vesper and his goons.

The cabins occupied by the guards contained basic toiletries, innocuous suits, and weapons—nothing unexpected or helpful. They’re likely contracted, so that was unsurprising; what hired thug brings identifiable things and leaves them unattended? None who want to continue in their current jobs, that’s for certain. Chuckling as I slip out of the last bodyguard's room, I shut the door quietly and assess the area to ensure I’m alone.

It’s not a shock that people are not coming and going between the cars on a train such as this—someone would complain about privacy swiftly.

“Okay, Renard. Time to face the most likely culprit,” I murmur to myself as I approach the cabin door. The lock falls to my picks easily, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. I don’t know why I was worried; it’s the same door and lock as the others, yet it’s much more daunting. The pressure of finding something here that will help or hurt us is riding my psyche, I believe, and making me more paranoid than usual.

When I open the door, Vesper’s cabin is a mirror image of the others in structure. It is not, however, the same in terms of housekeeping. There are several suits draped over the chairs, and shoes kicked off near the entry as I shut the door behind me. Silas Vesper is not an orderly supe—in fact, he’s a slob. That will make finding the thing that is out-of-place even harder, and I curse under my breath as I make my way through the random things strewn over the floor.

“How can someone who looks that fastidious be so messy in private? C’est la merde,⁠*” I grumble as I scan the cabin for a good place to begin my search. “Not only is it a travesty for his beautiful couture but also everything else he has with him.”

Some assholes have more money than sense, and it always offends me to see it in action.

Sighing, I move to the small table to sift through the piles of files and papers. Most of what is on top pertains to financials for the marketing department—which is obscenely high given their stranglehold on tech—and projections for various campaigns. I wouldn’t know that from looking at it, but every single document is branded and titled as if the people who receive them cannot figure it out, either. That explains a lot of their behavior as a company, and knowing that much of their upper C-suite is probably packed full of untrained relatives suckling on the family teat makes that less surprising.

“Planning to take over a few smaller firms this year, hmm?” I say as I look over a brightly colored chart attached to a profit-and-loss statement. “With illegally obtained data, no less. Very nice if I want regulatory bodies to pretend to investigate, but counterproductive to our cause.”

I set the papers that are not useful aside in a haphazard stack, hoping that will suffice to cover my tracks. Once I’m deeper into the mess, I notice a folder that looks different from the others. It’s not bright red or anything, but it’s a distinct style with something embossed on the front. Walking around the table, I move all the corporate documents aside and pick up the closed folder to examine it. The embossing depicts a familiar logo, and my breath catches as I stare at it.

“Mon Dieu,⁠* it’s the Society symbol from the books Flames and ma petite found at Apex so long ago. It is real…”

My hands tremble a bit as I consider the implications of this find. We have an ongoing list of families we believe are part of this dark council that formed after the Treaty. All of them control large swaths of the pred world through various business ventures and wealth, which makes them hard to defeat as a group. I have no idea what’s in this hidden sheaf, but anything that proves they exist has to be something important. Even the symbol imprinted on this damn thing is a big deal, and I have to take note of every piece of evidence.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I place the folder on the table and snap a picture of that first. Once I have it saved, I undo the ribbon holding it closed. Opening it slowly, I watch for any weird shit to happen and let out a slow breath when nothing does. At least it’s not fucking cursed or something; that’s a tremendous bonus. My amulet is cold and quiet, so I take that as another good sign as I remove the first paper. Frowning as I look it over, I place it on the table to photograph and then inspect it.

“It’s just an email,” I murmur as I skim through it. “Written by an assistant, most likely, to remind the ‘members’ that their annual financial reports are due. Perhaps those in charge require all the families to contribute via tithes? That would require them to present their actual worth like this.”

It’s odd to think any of these fuckers are submitting real numbers, and I wonder if that’s simply expected and accounted for.

The damn thing has an email address that isn’t obvious, so I can’t figure out whose office sent this demand. It’s odd that it was sent to Vesper rather than someone higher level on the executive team, but maybe that’s because he’s in the loop and not everyone else is. Farming out the communication of mundane things to those not bearing family names and not at CEO level may be a layer of protection if this shit is exposed.

“But the leaders of these families have to be the actual members of the Society; they could not risk bringing in low-level preds with less to lose,” I say as I set the email aside and pull out the rest of the file. “The real question is how it’s been kept quiet for so many years. Conspiracies on this level beg for whispers and rumors to leak, yet until we found that book and the vaults, it was considered a fairy tale.”

The next pages detail payments going out of a specific account within Erikson, and as I glance at them, it comes to me. The Society has remained underground and untouched because the members’ businesses are funneling money all over the globe to people who must facilitate their bullshit. My thought of a tithe is more likely a mechanism for the families to keep everyone on the payroll compensated accordingly, so their evil deeds never see the light of day.

This thing is so fucking big that it’s going to topple the entire pred and prey world if it goes down.

I spend another half an hour going through the shit on the table, taking pictures of things I think will be valuable and half-ass stacking the rest. My method isn’t particularly ‘professional’, but I think a man as disorganized as Vesper appears will not notice. Or, I hope he won’t because I’d rather not have a train lockdown where everyone has to state their names. That would certainly reveal my family, and we have been traveling under the radar as far as I can tell. I prefer to get home without being questioned by authorities who may enter our information into databases that cannot be trusted.

I’m sounding like a refugee running from a dictator, and we aren’t there yet, but c’est la vie.⁠*

The rest of the cabin is a wash—Silas doesn’t have any suspicious items or artifacts, nor is there anything hidden in his cases or around the room. I can’t guarantee that I’ve done a perfect job of tossing the place, but I was thorough enough that I believe I can abscond back to the dining room without worrying that I failed. Carefully, I move a few things back to the places I found them, and look around to ensure I’ve covered my tracks.

“This is good enough,” I mumble as I back out of the room slowly, keeping my eyes on the landscape just in case I see something I missed. When I’m at the door, I peer out of the peephole to see an empty hallway. I count to three before I open the door, and slip out quietly. I was right; there’s no one here, not even waiting for the bathrooms.