Chapter 2 #4
She gave me a lopsided smile and moved over to her partner.
Though the two of them didn’t say anything out loud, the buzz of energy surrounding them suggested they were telepathically communicating.
I pushed to my feet and slowly walked out the door.
Auditing was never an easy process, but for some reason, tonight’s seemed to take a greater toll than usual.
Maybe Greta had gone deeper, pressed harder, than usual, and Lowell and his unspoken doubts might have been behind that.
He stepped through the next door down as I came out. “I want the bridesmaids talked to as a matter of urgency.
Which I was going to do anyway, but the authoritative tone he used annoyed the hell out of me, and I had to bite back the reminder that he wasn’t my fucking boss and couldn’t actually order me to do anything. Remember, Hanna, honey not lemon.
“I take it Jack has tracked down the details of the car they climbed into and gotten into contact with the driver?”
“He hasn’t been able to talk to the driver, but we have his home address. If Francesca and Marnee aren’t at their penthouse, you’ll need to drive straight there and interview him.”
“You’ve cleared the overtime with head office then?”
He frowned. “Why would I do that?”
“Because regulation 14-1A states all agents must be given a minimum of five hours break after an extended period of duty time,” I replied, the annoyance not quite as masked as it should be.
“Ginny and I have now been operating for over ten hours, which means if you haven’t cleared it with Canberra, all additional costs, including the cost of any injuries to either Ginny, myself, or outside personnel caught up in our operation during those extended hours, will be coming out of your budget. ”
He scowled. “This case warrants it, Agent Kang, and be aware that I do not appreciate the rules being read to me in such a condescending manner. I run this sub-office, and you will remember that.”
And you should remember I am not a first-year graduate but co-lead on this investigation. Which meant, of course, we were jointly responsible for the current fuckup—and maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was worried about being held to account for my actions.
I took a deeper breath and reached for more honey. At this rate, though, the pot would be bone-dry well before the damn mission was over. “Fine, sir. I’ll head over there now.”
His gaze narrowed slightly, suggesting he knew the politeness covered more biting emotions. “Good,” he snapped. “Keep comms apprised of the situation.”
I resisted the urge to salute and moved quickly past him before I said anything I might regret.
The night air went some ways to cooling off my frustration with the man, even if it couldn’t similarly lift the aching tiredness that rode me.
As I walked across to my car, the earwig buzzed.
I tapped it twice, then said, “Lowell tells me you’ve located the BMW’s owner? ”
“Yep, sending you the deets now.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But shouldn’t you have clocked off by now?”
“I’d absolutely love to, but sadly, there’s only two members on the team up here, and we do twelve-hour shifts. You’re stuck with me until six.” His voice was dry. “Not that I mind, because we do get well compensated for the long hours and that, in turn, means I can ably support my gaming habit.”
I laughed. “What do we know about the driver?”
“You can’t read what I just sent?”
“I’m not a big reader. I’d rather summaries.”
“I take it you don’t read many novels, then.”
“I prefer audiobooks. Less effort.”
He chuckled. “The driver has no criminal record, no speeding fines, not even a parking fine. License photo says he’s white, dark hair, mid-fifties.”
I frowned. While the driver and his passenger had been little more than shadows in the security tapes, I’d gotten the distinct impression they’d been younger than fifty. “Can you do a cross-check and see if there’s any known connection between him and either woman?”
“Will do. Don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”
I smiled. “If my eyes start drooping, I’ll get you to hum to me.”
“Oh, come on, my humming isn’t that bad.”
“You should listen to yourself one day.”
“I’m very offended by that remark,” he said, not quite able to stop amusement staining his voice.
I laughed again. “Talk later.”
I pulled out my phone to update Ginny, then had second thoughts. Even if she had talked her way out of an overnight stay at the hospital, she’d likely be drugged-up and asleep. Better to just talk to her over breakfast.
I started the car, turned the music up, but before I could move, lights swept across the rear window. A car came out of the underground parking area, turned left, and sped away. Lowell, I realized, going home while forcing me and Jack to work on.
Bastard.
I reversed out then headed back across town to the penthouse suite the four women had hired for their hens weekend.
After parking in the near-empty street, I walked back to the building—a newish round tower whose height dominated the area.
The entrance was discreet and also locked, so I pressed the nearby buzzer.
A heartbeat later, a tinny voice said, “Herschel Street Suites, how may I help you?”
“Hanna Kang, Black Lantern Investigator. I need to know if Francesca and Marnee Ashworth are currently in residence.”
“I’m afraid I can’t give that information—”
I peered through the dark glass and saw him standing behind the desk. “Listen, I am not being dramatic when I say this is a matter of life and death—”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not police and it’s after hours, so I can’t—”
“Fine. I’ll get the police here.” I left my finger on the comms button so the guard could hear my conversation then double tapped the earwig. “Jack, can you call in the cops? Oh, and wake a judge and get an immediate search warrant for the entire building.”
“Hang on, hang on,” the guard growled. “I’ll call management.”
Jack chuckled. “Way to work a situation, Hanna.”
I smiled and didn’t reply. We could get both items if we needed them, but the latter, at the very least, would take some time, and I really didn’t want to be hanging about here any longer than necessary.
For a good five minutes, nothing happened. Just as I was beginning to think the guard hadn’t actually made the call, the doors opened and a rather harried older-looking man in jeans and a sweatshirt appeared.
“What’s all this about a possible life-and-death situation?”
I flipped open my ID and held it out. He frowned at it for several seconds, then said, “Why is the Society involved and not the police?”
“We’ve been called in as a personal favor.
A threat has been made against Monica Ashworth—daughter of Tane Ashworth, personal advisor to the prime minister.
She and three friends are staying here in the penthouse suite.
I need to know if any of them are currently here and, if so, I need to talk to them as a matter of urgency. ”
He hesitated. “I will need to confirm your ID with your boss.”
“Sure.” I dug Lowell’s business card out of my handbag and handed it to him. And hoped with all my heart the manager caught Lowell just as he was falling asleep.
The call was made, and the two men spoke for several minutes.
I couldn’t really hear what Lowell was saying, but the tone of his voice was displeased—and that pleased me greatly.
Which was bitchy, but hey, I was running on empty and in dire need of rest and/or coffee, and that always brought out the inner bitch.
The manager hung up, then stepped to one side and motioned me to enter. “Please, come in. I’ll escort you up to the penthouse.”
“Thank you.”
I followed him across to the elevator. He swiped a card across the reader and a few seconds later, the lift appeared.
He repeated the process inside, and we were soon zooming up to the penthouse on the seventy-fourth floor.
The doors swished open; he stepped out and went left.
The sign on the wall opposite said there were only two suites up here, and given the direction we were moving, Monica’s obviously faced the river.
He stopped at the door and pressed the discreet button above the card reader. From inside came a soft chiming, but there was no response. He tried again, and got the same result.
“What now?” he said, glancing at me.
“Could you please open the door and then step back?”
He hesitated, obviously not happy with what he saw as an invasion of privacy, but nevertheless obeyed.
Once the door was unlocked, I pressed my fingers against it and pushed it all the way open.
The room beyond was a vast open space that consisted of three main areas—living, dining, and a surprisingly large kitchen.
There were four doors leading off this room, two of them closed.
The other two looked to be the main bedroom and a bathroom big enough to hold a party in.
The wall directly opposite us was all glass, with a brilliant view that stretched past the river and Brisbane to the mountains beyond.
There was no sound coming from any of the rooms, and no indication there was anything wrong. And yet... something felt off.
I glanced at the manager, motioned him to remain where he was, then cautiously stepped inside. No one jumped out at me. The silence was thick and heavy, the air still, and yet the sense of wrongness deepened. I wasn’t about to ignore it. Not after what had happened earlier.
After another glance around the room, I quickly cast a protection spell.
While most royal witches would be able to breach its barrier with little effort, it would nevertheless give me enough time to physically react.
If there was one thing I’d learned over my four years with the Society, it was that witches were generally better prepared for a magical response rather than a physical one, and that made it far easier to restrain them if you were fast enough.
I was.
Mostly, anyway.