Cloak Games: Thief Trap by Jonathan Moeller

Cloak Games: Thief Trap by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Azure Flame Media, LLC
Published: 2015-08-07T06:00:00+00:00


Chapter 7: Rift Way

I held out my left arm. Corvus stared at for a moment, the sighed and threaded his arm through mine. His forearm felt strong and firm through the sleeve of his coat.

“Care to escort a lady for a stroll?” I said.

Corvus sighed. “Don’t flirt.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Clearly I’m much too good at it. I made your eyes turn solid black, and while I don’t know what you are, I suspect it’s a sign of intense arousal and…”

The sound Corvus made was somewhere between an irritated sigh and a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a smart mouth?”

“Frequently,” I said. “And often.”

“That’s redundant,” said Corvus. “Let’s go.”

He pushed aside the curtain, and we walked arm-in-arm into the main room. The air had taken on a noticeable chemical reek, and more guests lay sprawled on the couches, smoking and drinking as the red-clad slaves circulated with food and drink and recreational poisons. The three security men were on the far end of the room, but they did not look our way as we wove our way past the couches and the gleaming steel tables. We reached the far doorway and slipped into the hallway beyond.

The corridor did not look nearly as elaborate as the main room. The floor was polished concrete, the walls unadorned cinder blocks. Metal conduits and pipes ran along the ceiling in orange-painted racks. Every few feet a single blue light bulb burned in a metal cage, filling the corridor in long, gloomy shadows.

“Surprised you didn’t draw more attention,” said Corvus.

“Why’s that?” I said, looking back and forth. The distant bass thrum of the music still vibrated through the concrete floor.

“You were the only one in there wearing cargo pants and running shoes,” said Corvus.

“Considering some of the hallucinogenic drugs the guests have taken,” I said, looking at the pipes, “cargo pants are probably the least strange thing they’ve seen today.”

Corvus snorted. “True.”

“Look,” I said, pointing at the ceiling. “We won’t have to worry about security cameras.”

“No network conduit,” Corvus said.

“Too much concrete and steel in here for wireless,” I said. I reached into my pack and drew out my burner phone to check. It wasn’t getting any signal, and it didn’t detect any local wireless networks. “Nice and private. No cameras, no Internet, no way for anyone to call out.”

“Indeed,” said Corvus, his tone grim. “Quite a lot of water, though.” He pointed. “Pipes for hot and cold water, and they’re not part of the air conditioning system.”

I scowled at the pipes. “You think he keeps prisoners back here?”

“Perhaps,” said Corvus. “Though one wonders why a manufacturer of badly-flavored meat products would acquire prisoners.”

“Not a fan of McCade Foods canned meat products?” I said.

Corvus frowned. “I have experienced near-starvation, so while I would prefer McCade’s food products to starving again…”

“Saying food is preferable to starvation is not high praise,” I said.

“No,” said Corvus. “Which way should we go?”

I shrugged and pointed at the pipes. “Let’s follow the hot water.”

We started forward, making our way down the utility corridor.



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