“What did she say about Blue?”
“Mistress Correct told me—”
Gabriel frowned. “Mistress Correct?”
“Stage name, sir.” Aiden cleared his throat. “Mistress Correct said she recognized the gray amber in the pendant because she has a talent for tuning and once worked professionally in that capacity. Said there was more money in her new line. Anyhow, she commented on the stone and asked Blue where he had purchased it. Blue lied and said he had picked it up at a small shop in a town outside of Cadence.”
“What made her sure he was lying?” Gabriel asked.
Aiden looked up again. “Because she recognized the style of the setting and the skill of the tuning work. She told me there was no mistaking Pitney’s techniques. Mistress Correct did not push the matter, because she didn’t like Blue and had already decided not to take him on as a regular.”
“Was Mistress Correct able to give you a lead on Tuck’s current address?”
“No, but he told her he was new in town and asked her to recommend a nightclub that would cater to a man of his tastes. She suggested the Basement. It’s several blocks off the Strip in the Amber Zone. I paid a personal visit at about three this morning and talked to the manager, who said the description I gave him fit a customer who usually shows up around midnight. Stays a couple of hours watching the floor show and drinking. Evidently I just missed him. He’s always alone. Always pays cash. Definitely ex-Guild, according to the manager. Here’s the good news, sir: the club maintains security videos of every car that enters and leaves the parking lot. I’ve got a vehicle description, a license plate, and an address in the Shadow Zone.”
Energy whispered in the atmosphere.
“Good work, Aiden,” Gabriel said.
Aiden appeared gratified. “Thank you, sir. What’s the next step?”
“Jared will escort Ms. Bell to her job in the Storm Zone. I will pay a visit to Tuck’s house. With luck, he won’t be home.”
“Got it,” Aiden said.
“One more thing, Aiden.”
“Yes, sir?”
“If there is one drop of purple in my office, you will move your office into the basement.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The small house was located in a partially abandoned neighborhood on the fringes of the Shadow Zone. The zone’s Strip, with its casinos, clubs, and restaurants, was a couple of miles away, near the Wall.
Gabriel stood in the doorway of a long-closed nightclub. There was so much grime on the narrow windows, it was next to impossible to make out the interior of the place. Because of the fog, it was almost as hard to see the house across the street. There was no sign of a vehicle parked in front, and the lights were off inside. In the Shadow Zone, the lights were always on when someone was home.
It was possible that Tuck was asleep, but the lack of a vehicle indicated he was most likely out.
Gabriel left the doorway and made his way through the mist to the rear entrance of the shabby old house. The back door was locked, but that was not a problem. He rezzed the lock with a jammer.
A few seconds later he was inside. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the deep gloom before, flamer in hand, he began a slow, thorough walk-through. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture: a small kitchen table, a chair, a mattress on the floor.
In fairness, there was more stuff in Tuck’s place than he had in his own apartment, Gabriel reflected. He was going to have to do something about that one of these days. He couldn’t invite Lucy over for a drink until he got a table and a couple of chairs. He needed a bed, too. Definitely a bed. Lucy’s words floated through his head. At your age, you should not be renting furniture.
He moved into the kitchen and discovered a handful of paper plates and cups. The refrigerator contained nothing but a few bottles of Hot Amber Beer. Evidently Tuck was not into home cooking. There were paranormal footprints everywhere. Presumably they belonged to Tuck, since there was no evidence that anyone else lived in the house.
He opened his senses and took a close look at the hot prints. After a moment he went into the kitchen and fished an empty beer bottle out of the trash. More prints. He studied them, his senses open, until he was sure he would recognize them.
“Got you,” he said softly.
He found a door concealed inside a closet. When he opened it, he saw a flight of steps. Tunnel heat pinged his senses. That was promising. He rezzed his flashlight and went down into the basement.
Tuck had made very little effort to conceal the hole-in-the-wall. There was a sheet of plywood in front of the opening. That was it. Gabriel moved it aside and found himself looking through a jagged rip in the quartz. Beyond was a glowing corridor.