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He glanced my way, then stopped, and his sense of alertness increased twofold. He drew his gun and pressed a button on his lapel.
"Greg, we have an open door on one of the storerooms. I'm going to check it out. "
Meaning he hadn't spotted me yet, but if I didn't do something real quick, he would. The shadows weren't strong enough to hold up under any sort of close scrutiny. Not when it was daylight, anyway.
But rather than step back, I hit him telepathically, slipping into his mind as silently and as efficiently as any vampire. I wrapped ghostly fingers around his control centers, stopping his movements and washing any awareness that something was wrong from his mind.
Then, knowing I didn't have much time before his partner started getting suspicious, I rummaged quickly through his thoughts. His name was James Cutter, and both he and the wolf worked for the Melbourne division of an organization known as Revanche. Cutter didn't know who owned or ran the organization, but the man they reported to was one Dillion Pavane. I searched for more information, but he didn't really have much. There were no offices located in Melbourne, as far as this man knew. They always met in bars, and never the same bars. He was paid in cash - another rarity in this day and age. He was also sick of the courier duties - which involved checking the various phones situated throughout the suburbs - and eager to make his first kill.
Meaning whoever was behind this organization didn't trust anybody.
I grabbed my phone and quickly typed in all the locations of the other phones, then placed the image of a closed door and a conviction that nothing was out of place other than a smashed window in his mind. With that done, I turned him around and released him.
For the barest of seconds, he paused, as if wondering what the hell he was doing, then the suggestions I'd put in his mind took hold, and he touched his lapel communicator again. "There's a smashed window in back storeroom number three," he said. "Nothing to worry about. "
He paused, listening to the comment from the other end, then added, "How the fuck do I know how the door opened? Maybe the catch is broken, like everything else in this dump. The main thing is, no one can get in or out, except those damn possums. "
Ag
ain he paused, then added, "Yeah, I erased the tape after I took the notes. Don't fucking worry. "
He turned and walked away. I waited until the door slammed, then glanced down at the handle in my hand and snapped it off. When the men came back, they'd be expecting a broken door lock, so I'd better provide it.
As I turned around, the power came back on, cutting off any chance of investigating the other rooms. I just couldn't risk it when the whine of the camera beginning to rotate filled the dusty silence. And who knew what other security measures were in place that I hadn't yet spotted. Jack would be less than impressed if I inadvertently let them know we were onto them.
I quickly closed the door then shifted shape - half wondering as I did so whether I was going to have any remnants of clothing left by the time I got back to the car.
The camera had already begun its rotation back toward the door, and was almost at the window. If I didn't go now, they'd see the window, realize it wasn't actually smashed as the shifter had said, and start to wonder why he'd lied. And if they had a decent enough telepath on their team, he'd probably uncover traces of my presence in the shifter's mind.
I couldn't take that chance.
I jumped forward, flapping my wings as hard as I could, aiming for the tiny hole in the middle of the glass. At the last moment, I closed my eyes and tucked my wings together, bracing for the impact. I hit with speed, shattering the glass and spraying it outward. Which might make them wonder how, exactly, the glass had broken, but I couldn't help that. The jagged edges of glass scoured my side, tearing past feathers and into skin. Then I was out in the open air and tumbling downward. Panic rose just for a moment, then I spread my wings and began to fly, swooping past several rooftops as I curved around to the front of the building. I perched on the nearest rooftop, briefly shifting to my wolf shape and back again to stop the bleeding, then took to wing again.
The men were in the car, driving away. I followed them for a couple of streets, then swung around and flew into Cass's window. I needed to question her a little more about her boss.
She was with another man, but the door was open as she'd promised. Given that I didn't particularly want to watch her in action again, I sauntered through the door to have a look around. The hallway beyond was long and shadowy, and there were four doors leading off it. One was closed, but the other three were open and the rooms empty. I walked to the stairway and looked up. The camera sat above the landing, and was indeed an infrared.
It seemed a lot of trouble to go to for what was basically little more than a phone depot, but then I hadn't explored the other rooms, so who knew what was in those?
I suspected it wouldn't be much. Even though it had been Surrey's soul that had given us the lead, Surrey himself would probably have done so had he lived - even if he'd done it unwillingly, via a telepathic raid. We would have found this place - and this phone - one way or another, and I very much suspected they'd be ready for such an event.
I went back to the room. Cass's client was just finishing up, so I waited until he left, then shifted to my human shape.
"Couple of nasty-looking wounds you have there," Cass drawled, swinging her legs around and sitting up on the bed.
"Glass will do that," I said. "I don't suppose you know where T. J. Hart lives, do you?"
She raised an eyebrow, amusement glimmering in her eyes. "It's not listed on the business registration?"
"Apparently not. " I plopped down on the chaise longue and tried to ignore the stale scents rising from it. "I'll give you another thirty for the information, because that's all I've got. "
She considered me for a moment, then said, "How much trouble is T. J. in? Because as much as the clients suck, this is a reasonably secure and clean place to work. "
I hesitated. "It depends on whether he's merely renting the room or actively involved in what is going on. "
"Well, I know he raised a hell of a fuss about the shit they put on the roof, so I suspect his only involvement is a pocket-level one. " She held out a hand. "Payment first. You look the trustworthy type, but I've been fooled before. "
I dug out my wallet and handed over the last of my cash.
