Cloak of Blades by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub

After the thunderstorm, September 3rd dawned bright and cheery. The sky was a crisp blue, and a pleasant breeze blew over Westchester. The green of the palm trees, the bushes, and the grass was so vivid it looked like a special effect. On days like this, you could see why so many people lived in Florida.

Though the constant news reports about Tropical Storm H-317 were a reminder that it wasn’t all sunshine and warm breezes here.

The burner phone whose number I had shared with Ruiz buzzed soon after I finished my morning workout. The message was from Ruiz, who had compiled a list of potential candidates for Victoria’s infiltration effort. Attached to the message was a list of names along with photographs, including a short summary of each individual. It was excellent work. I wondered if Ruiz had a secretarial equivalent to Miles, someone who handled research while Miles cracked the occasional skull. Or maybe Ruiz had a few private investigators on retainer – a lot of the PIs I had dealt with tended to work for shadow councilors on a regular basis.

A second text message was from “Kate Sunderland.” Victoria would meet me at a coffee shop a few blocks from the Duke’s mansion in downtown Miami at 9 AM. Armand would need to drive to Suarez’s apartment to work with him on preparing the rootkit, and Suarez lived all the way over in Cutler Bay, a smaller suburb to the south. Rather than make Armand ferry me around the city, I walked a few blocks to the nearest gas station and called a taxi.

Besides, it was better if we took separate vehicles, and I had more than enough money to handle a taxi.

The taxi arrived ten minutes later. I pretended to be in Miami on business, and the taxi driver, a garrulous older man, regaled me with his opinions about the mayor, the governor, his Congressman, both Florida’s Senators, King Hector Navarro the Twelfth, and the head coach of Florida’s football team as he drove. In the driver’s opinion, the lot of them were all crooks at worst and incompetent at best, and Duke Curantar and the High Queen would deal with them sooner or later.

I was reasonably sure the High Queen did not have a strong opinion on Florida’s star quarterback’s passing ability, but I kept that thought to myself.

I had the driver drop me off in front of the Duke’s mansion. I paid the meter, leaving a good tip (no sense in making enemies), and set off on the short walk to the coffee shop. I was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a hooded black sweatshirt. I really, really wanted to wear my pea coat, but practically no one in Florida wore coats in September, and it would draw notice. It was just barely cool enough in the morning that I could get away with the sweatshirt.

The coffee shop occupied the corner of a high-rise building, and a good-sized crowd filled it. Across the street was a half-constructed building.

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