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“And you’d alert every spy in the city to your intentions before you even left the Randolph estate, and you’d get nothing in the process. Fifty.”
“Done.”
“I’ll stick a GPS tracker on her car. It’ll be more discreet than tailing.”
“Good.” Lila drummed her fingers atop her desk. “One more thing, Max. Have you ever heard of a hacker named Zephyr?”
Max breathed out. “Heard of him, yes. Seen him, no. He’s like Valandra. Word is he rarely meets his clients. He used to be just a small-time hacker, but he’s moved up in the world in the last couple of years. A little too quickly, if you ask me. Why? Are you looking for him too?”
“Maybe.”
Max laughed. “Well, good luck with that one. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I’m not even sure if he’s real.”
“Good to know. Always a pleasure, Max. Tell Ms. Schreiber to go on vacation for a while. There will be questions after this. Questions she won’t want to be around for. I’m doing her a favor this time, and only because it’s you.”
Lila ended the call in the middle of Max’s grumbling complaint.
She ate the rest of her cookie and then turned her attention to more pressing problems. For the next hour, she searched for more information on Sun Leasing, Muller and Davies, and anything that might help locate Zephyr. Unfortunately, she found nothing.
Time was growing short. Trapping Chairwoman Wilson might give them more information, but it also might spook Zephyr into running. It was a risk, but one that she’d have to take. After all, a running Zephyr was a busy Zephyr. She’d have more time to search.
After putting her computer to sleep, Lila padded downstairs, bound for the security office once again. She eased behind Isabel, who dusted the bookshelves in the study, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland propped open with a heavy silver statue. Isabel wiped absently with the feathers, too engrossed in the text to hear the footfalls behind her.
Isabel never stole the silver. She dealt with Jewel’s craziness, as well as the chairwoman’s cold perfection, on a daily basis with little complaint. If the worst thing the woman did was read while dusting, the family should count themselves lucky.
Lila left Isabel to her dreaming.
A flood of leaves fell over Lila as she ventured from the great house, little bursts of yellow carried on puffs of wind. The sky threatened, heavy and gray, as she walked to the security office, dodging a few scrambling slaves laden with bags, bundles, and crates, intent on their Friday afternoon errands.
If Lila hadn’t been searching the horizon for rain, she might not have noticed the flash of brown on a roof across the street from the estate and the flutter of short, dark hair.
Waving to Sergeant Hill and his rookie in the guard post, Lila strolled across the street. She used her master key to gain access to the building and sprinted up the stairwell, each floor painted in perfect yellow lines and smelling of metal.
Moments later, she emerged on the roof.
Tristan leaned against a temperature-control unit, face turned away. “Your family owns this building, don’t they?”
“Of course. We own, lease, or have some sort of stake in everything around the property for two or three blocks, but you already knew that.”
“It wouldn’t do for the poorer classes to get too close.”
“It wouldn’t do for anyone to get too close. There are security issues, Tristan. Not everything is a class issue.”
Lila dug her palm from her pocket and brought up her messages.
Another alert.
“Did I miss your call?”
“No. I didn’t bother. I didn’t want you to dismiss me with a few words.”
“You want an update already?”
Tristan shoved his back off the temperature unit. A dark red bruise had formed over his right eye, which was slightly swollen. “I already know—”
“What happened to your eye?”
Tristan looked away, turning toward the empty streets around the Randolph estate. “It’s nothing. Don’t change the subject. You already went to see Chairwoman Wilson. I want to know what you learned.”
