The Darker Chase by Cap Daniels

Author:Cap Daniels [Daniels, Cap]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anchor Watch Publishing, L.L.C.
Published: 2022-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Trust Fund

Disco, Penny, Tony, and I traded our tropical daytime attire for equally ridiculous outfits that more than tripled the cost of our wardrobes.

I said, “I look like a trust fund frat boy, but these shoes are amazing.”

Penny stared at the shoes and made her way to my newly trimmed beard. “I think you look pretty hot, and you’re right—the shoes are great.”

“Speaking of hot. You make that dress look like it was made for you.”

“It was. It came from a tailor on Rodeo Drive. The studio expects me to look the part. Nobody wants to see a frumpy librarian type at a premier. They want beautiful people in beautiful clothes making beautiful movies.”

I let my eyes linger and enjoy. “Well, they clearly got their wish with you.”

* * *

Disco, Tony, and I hit the front door first, leaving Penny to make her grand entrance after we’d done some advance work in the interior of the club. It felt strange having someone hold a door open for us. We were far more accustomed to breaching with a shaped charge of C4, but the VIP treatment wasn’t bad.

The bone conduction audio set Skipper glued to our scalps, just behind our ears, was some sort of wizardry I’d never understand. According to her, it worked by transferring the vibrations that make up sounds through the temporal bone and into our ears. It was terrifying at first, but after a few minutes, we fell in love with the technology, and the ability to hide an earpiece beneath our hair was worth its weight in gold.

Through the magical comms, Skipper said, “Remember, don’t look up at the cameras.”

“We’re good at this,” I said. “You don’t have to remind us of the rules.”

“Just don’t forget to give your body cams a few seconds to adjust for changes in lighting before you do anything that needs to make it into the archives.”

The body cams were tiny lenses affixed to the buttons of our shirts, and the microphones were tucked away in plain sight inside my watch, Disco’s ring, and Tony’s earring. The technology was fascinating, but the opportunity to make fun of Tony for wearing an earring was priceless.

Skipper’s lenses adjusted faster than our eyes as we stepped into the darkened interior of the club. The music was loud but not obnoxious. The crowd was young, beautiful, and oblivious to our presence. It was impossible to tell where the dance floor ended and the tables began. I decided the tables were an afterthought because the real action was the sweaty bodies grinding against each other to the beat of the four enormous speakers mounted high in each corner of the room.

I leaned toward Disco. “Something tells me we’re not going to get any quality audio in here.”

He either didn’t hear me or was mesmerized by the scene in front of us, so instead, Skipper’s disembodied voice filled my ear. “Don’t worry about the audio. I can filter out most of the music. Any sign of Astor yet?”

“Still looking,” I said.

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