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“What the—”
“I told you.” Lila grinned mischievously, sliding the metal container back into her pocket. “Dogs love me.”
“Lila, just so we’re clear, love doesn’t mean that someone has a rabid desire to be tranqed.”
She rolled her eyes and flipped on her jammer. “Come on, I estimate we have twenty minutes before it wakes up.”
“Wait. Estimate? Explain estimate.”
“Research is still in the testing phase. It’s an aerated tranq solution. Works particularly well on little yappy dogs.”
“A pit bull is not a little yappy dog, Lila!”
“Yeah, I know. There will be a much bigger mess when it wakes up.” She hopped over the fence.
Tristan did not follow.
“Is it going to stay down?”
“I don’t know. It’s a mystery. That’s what makes it science.”
Tristan gave her a long stare before finally jumping over the fence and following along behind her. The pair crept toward a dilapidated structure in the center of the property, more wood pile than building. The smell grew worse and worse as they approached, the stench of piss and excrement cutting through the rot. The pair skirted piles of ripped batteries, coffee filters, and bottles of soda and drain opener.
“I don’t think Natalie would have chosen this place. It stinks too much. I put it on the list because of its owner, but Natalie has her limits.”
“Who owns it?”
“A disgraced Hardwicke. He was caught stealing funds from his wife and bugging her office. He passed information to his former matron and other families before getting caught.”
“Chairwoman Hardwicke wouldn’t take him back after that?”
“Of course not, both for sharing intel with other families and for getting caught. Turns out he had dividends stashed away that the government couldn’t get to. He bought back his mark after he served his sentence.”
“Where’d he stash the money while he served his slave’s term? Burgundy?”
“Wasn’t smart enough to do it and not get caught,” she said, shaking her head. “He gave his money to Natalie Holguín to hide. They go way back, if you know what I mean. She still took thirty percent, but that’s downright charitable for her. In any case, Mr. Hardwicke holds a few properties in East New Bristol—won them in card games, mostly. This property is an anomaly, though. It went out of business almost two years ago, and he hasn’t tried to lease it.”
The pair made a brief circle around the structure, peeking through broken shards in the painted-over windows. Nothing moved inside.
“I haven’t seen any guards,” Lila whispered, fishing her lock-picking tools from her pocket.
The door clicked open less than a minute later, and the pair stepped into a one-room structure. The dirty linoleum floor muffled their footsteps as they approached a long table in the back. Glassware and hoses spilled out of a box. Someone had stacked two large box fans in a corner.
“He doesn’t even have a decent security system.”
“Of course he wouldn’t.” Tristan sniffed the air. “It’s smart to hide this place in the middle of a junkyard. Bravo, Mr. Hardwicke. It’s just like a highborn to find a use for something this worthless.”
“What use?”
“Do you smell that? This was a meth lab. Recently.”
“Meth? How do you know what a meth lab smells like?”
“Not everyone I deal with is as sweet and carefree as you.” He pushed her deeper into the room and curled his arms around her waist, grinning at the contact. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you at the shop this morning.”
Lila squirmed out of his grasp. “No, my stomach can’t handle that here. Besides, I don’t have time. I haven’t even begun to look for the oracles.”
“Later, then. Are you going to call this into Shaw?”
