36. Rarefied Air
Rarefied Air
Dylan
The Night of Entertainment was a red-carpet affair, rows of nondescript SUVs dropping off posh folk at an even rate.
Talia had finagled the invite after an excruciating forty-five-minute vid call with a woman named Gertrude Presser, who was someone-or-other’s assistant – and in charge of arrangements for the evening.
“Gertrude expecting any favours from you now, Tal?” Dylan asked, as they waited in the cab for Sacha to confirm they were good to go.
Her friend shot her a look through semi-closed eyes, her freshly microbladed eyebrows adding to her “I’ll kill you” stare.
The techie grumbled through the comms. Talia felt pressed to clear the air.
“She’s borrowing one of our high-roller paintings from Jab, for her boss…”
“That’s not so bad”
“For a year.”
“Oh, that sounds… bad, I guess?” Dylan didn’t really know much about Talia’s job or its pains. It mainly sounded like a load of free shit and attending events, to be honest. Occasionally writing a puff piece for Jab.
Fashion dictated what to wear for the event – Talia’s words. Dylan was always more comfortable wearing clothes she liked, not what the influencers told her to. Still, Talia had won the argument tonight and both of them were wearing something fancier for Astrid’s Night of Entertainment.
Talia’s outfit was on dagger-point. Dylan wasn’t sure which pieces of her friend’s outfit she wanted for herself, and which she wanted to destroy.
The ruffled polyester cape hugging Talia’s shoulders?
The matching nylon mesh gloves? Or was it the twill faux-wool skirt?
The latter she’d definitely burn in a fire, while wearing the cape.
The gloves were give or take. She’d done both her own and Talia’s makeup, amping up her friend’s fit with a smoky eye.
Dylan took pride in her own way of picking clothes, and her pleated lemon-yellow shift dress, bought a couple of years ago from a charity shop, wouldn’t fail her tonight.
Maybe it wasn’t quite a match for Talia’s style, cultivated in the rarefied air of art curators, rich patrons, and artists, but it looked to be keeping up with the mood of the people they saw walk into the mansion.
She looked at Isaak. He wasn’t dressed up tonight, since he was staying in the converted cab. Just his usual black-on-black fit.
Right now she wasn’t too worried about going in with Talia, just the two of them.
Astrid would recognise Isaak and Sacha anyway.
And they weren’t social, partygoer types – she’d be surprised if Isaak managed a word in edgeways with all these semi-celebs, bless him.
Plus, having Isaak in her ear during the op was sure to have a calming effect.
She didn’t know how her nerves might affect her once she got through the doors, though. If she saw Astrid…
Isaak shifted in his seat. The vehicle was a modified black cab Sacha had rented, with comfy seats, rather than the usual raw assemblage of metal and elastic bands that provided the absolute minimum required in terms of passenger safety.
He sat opposite her on the driver’s seat, which swivelled around so they could chat, while she and Talia were in the passenger seats.
The typical divider between passenger and taxi driver had been removed.
The car was parked far enough away so as not to draw attention, but they still had line of sight to the building. Sacha was in an Airbnb flat overlooking the mansion. Safety through redundancy, he said.
“Sacha, do you want to do the honours?”
The comms crackled with a cough. “Sorry, it’s this bloody heartburn…”
“You shouldn’t have had the chilli for lunch.”
“I’d always have chilli before a game…”
Dylan shared a smile with Isaak.
“This isn’t a game, boys,” Talia interrupted, looking disapprovingly at Isaak – and Dylan for smiling at him.
Sacha muttered his acquiescence. “Fair, Tal.”
Oh, so Sacha was already on a nickname basis with Talia. Things were moving fast between them…
Sacha continued, “Our goal tonight is to find everything we can about the Sleeper device, anything actionable. In a moment, the resplendent Talia and Dylan will enter the beautiful Crypterra mansion.”
Dylan chuckled.
“We know there will be a lot of B-sides and C-listers present, but most important of all is Mrs Fern-Lock herself. There’s a multitude of ways tonight might go. We’re hoping one of our lovely ladies—”
Dylan snickered. Sacha could be so cringe.
But he continued unfazed. “—can sweet talk the target, while the other sneaks up to the offices on the first floor. We’re assuming she’ll have some setup materials for Crypterra’s product launch presentation later tonight.
We want anything proving what the Sleeper really does, and what her next steps are, like is everyone in the Kingdom going to be wearing one of these things soon?
Once we have some tangible data, I expect both Talia and Dylan to make up an excuse and leave the event.
There’s access at the back of the building for catering.
If shit goes sideways, that’s a viable way in and out. ”
She swallowed dry.
Sacha gave the go-ahead for them to make their way to the building. A sudden pang of worry made her frown.
“Be careful,” Isaak told her, a thin smile masking his own apprehension.
“We will.” Dylan leant in for a kiss, the knife pleats of her dress brushing his legs. His hand on her shoulder gave her a modicum of reassurance.
She exchanged a nod with Talia and they left the converted taxi.
It was an out-of-body experience, dressing up fancy, going to an high-profile event packed with celebrities, planning to probe the woman who’d taken Isaak from her, slipping out halfway to ransack her data – and all of it with a man she’d only known for two weeks and was already falling in love with, his formerly estranged ex-teammate, and her best friend.
It was unreal, never mind the Tapeworld.
Dylan didn’t know what to expect as she walked up the front steps, arm wrapped around Talia’s, her own skin in goosebumps from the cold.
There was something unremarkable about the bouncers edging the wood-panelled double doors, like they were specifically hired for being gormless muscly blobs. Both were wearing sunglasses despite it already being night.
The dark tint of one of the muscly blob’s lenses fizzed to transparent. “Good evening. Invitation?” His voice matched the bland brawny vibe of the entire security detail.
Talia bent slightly forward. “Go ahead.”
He waved his security wand in front of her eyes, holding it there. Scanning her retina, cross-referencing against the database. She got the invitation from Gertrude. It should all be fine. Why then was Dylan so nervous?
She fidgeted with the silver chain of her red micro-purse.
The other bouncer turned towards her. She swallowed nervously, not the most convincing behaviour under scrutiny, and she almost stopped fidgeting with the chain abruptly but caught herself, not wanting to do anything that made them look more suspicious.
A pleasing beep later, her insides were finally able to rest easy.
“Go on in. Enjoy your evening, ladies.” The double doors opened, and the bouncer ushered them through.
Dylan shared a wavering smile with Talia, and they held hands for a second as they stepped inside.
The foyer rose two stories high into a crescent tip, trammelled in gold.
Multiple spotlights illuminated the pockets of people wandering about, shock-blue and phosphorescent red lights melding with the extravagant fashion statements committed across the room.
Alt-couture. Talia had coined the term for the magazine.
The background music drowned out the detail of the many ongoing conversations among the just-in-time-famous merrymakers.
For all the cacophony, something was missing.
The Crypterra mansion was part corporate space, part art gallery – hence Talia’s agreement with Gertrude – but…
“Where’s all the art, Tal?”
Talia grinned like a dominant animal in her jungle. “Look there. See the corridor? A couple of rooms of paintings, sculptures, and neo-art down that way.”
The corridor was packed with traffic going in both directions. Dylan’s eyes darted to some stairs climbing about halfway up the foyer. “And that leads up to the offices?”
Talia smiled. “Yup. That’s where you gotta sneak up to.”
“Right.”
A lump the size of an apple formed in her stomach. This wasn’t going to be easy. And what would they do if she got caught? It would be so easy to walk away, to some hidden corner of this corporate house-slash-gallery, and just give up.
Talia grabbed her arm, almost as if she could see what she was thinking.
“Listen.” She stared into Dylan’s eyes, tension on her face as she whispered. “Like we planned, I’ll go find Astrid, you sneak upstairs.”
Dylan nodded. Her hands formed into fists, knuckles whitened. That bitch has to pay. She walked off towards the corridor.
There was a crackle in her ear. “Are you there, Dee?”
“Yes, the evening is marvellous…” she said quietly, trying not to draw attention. The people around her were mostly imbibing alcohol and CBD-infused drinks, pretending to talk art, and pretending to look at art.
“How’s the place? Do you have a lock on Astrid?”
The corridor opened to the first of the gallery rooms. Paintings hung away from the walls, suspended in mid-air. Many were chiral – dual-sided paintings on a translucent medium, the inks and paints forming a different meaning on each side.
“Not yet. Talia’s scoping the place out for her.” Her eyes wandered from the chiral displays to the guests.
“Okay. Give me a buzz when you find anything, and be careful you don’t bump into her yourself.”