Darkness Falls (Dark Angels 7)

“Miss Joe Normal, in other words,” I said. “She’s damn good at setting up and maintaining alternate identities, I tell you.”

“I gather Stane is checking her other IDs for you, but you might want to send them along to me, as well,” he commented. “Sometimes the Directorate has more access to information than a black market racketeer.”

His voice was dry, and I grinned. “Yeah, but I don’t have to listen to him nagging about keeping safe.”

“Getting nagged is a whole lot better than getting dead. Just remember that.”

I did remember. I couldn’t forget, actually, given I had already died once. And I had no intention of repeating the process anytime soon.

“I’ll send a list of our sorceress’s other names now, and I promise to call if I intend to do anything daft.” I hesitated, thinking about my upcoming dinner with Mike, then added, “I don’t suppose the Directorate has a tracker available that’s virtually undetectable—one that I could maybe borrow?”

“There might be,” he said, voice noncommittal. “Why?”

“Because I have someone I want to track, and they may or may not be aware of my suspicions of them.”

“Is this someone involved with the sorceress and the key hunt?”

“We’re not sure, but we did find a minor connection, and at this stage, I think it’s better to be cautious than not.” Even if I still didn’t really want to believe Mike could be so convincingly two-faced.

“Then I’ll supply the tracker, if you supply the name. I’ll run a check on him or her from here.”

I hesitated, but it wasn’t like I had any other choice. “His name is Michael Judd.”

Surprise rippled across Rhoan’s expression. “Your investment adviser?”

“And Mom’s before me. As I said, the connection might be coincidental, but we nevertheless need to be sure.”

“Yes, you do.” He paused, glancing away from the vid-phone. “Okay, we have several in stock. If you want to ask Azriel to meet me in the foyer in five minutes, I’ll hand both the bug and the tracker to him.”

“Excellent. Thanks, Uncle Rhoan. I owe you big-time.”

“Pay me by keeping yourself alive,” he said. “And by calling me the minute—”

“I will,” I cut in. “I promise, as I said.”

“Good.” With that, he hung up.

I shoved my phone back into my purse, then glanced at Azriel. He smiled and said, “Don’t do anything untoward while I’m gone.”

Once he’d disappeared, I walked over to my computer and Googled the Perth address, then flicked it over from maps to street view. The area, as Rhoan had noted, was definitely upmarket.

Azriel reappeared a few minutes later and handed me a small box. Inside were what appeared to be two skin-colored dots hardly bigger than pinheads, and a small GPS device. “Your uncle said to place one of the dots on Mike’s wrist. It is designed to take on the wearer’s skin color and once in place will not come off. Nor will he feel its presence.”

“And did he say how I’m supposed to get it onto his wrist?”

“He suggested when you were shaking his hand. It has two sides—the side currently visible in the box clings to your finger; then it’s simply a matter of pressing that finger against his wrist when clasping his hand.”

Which sounded a whole lot easier than it probably would be. I placed the kit on the table, then waved a hand at the satellite image on the computer screen. “Can you get us there using this as a base?”

Azriel looked over my shoulder. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” I turned, dropped a quick kiss on his lips, and said, “Onward, James.”

He rolled his eyes but nevertheless wrapped his arms around me and transported us out of there. Lauren’s Lancelin house basically looked like someone had taken a bunch of differently sized white boxes and stacked on them on top of one another. It was only two stories high, but there were lots of different angles and sections thanks to the stacking effect. The windows—at least at the front of the house—were long and thin, and the entrance box was painted dark purple. There was a Mercedes and a BMW parked in front, suggesting the house was occupied.

“It is,” Azriel confirmed. “There are five adults and two children within.”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t think she’d set any traps that her paying guests could accidentally trigger.”