When she was finished she went back up the stairs, picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. A gravelly voice answered.

“Pest Control.”

“I need service as soon as possible,” Gwendolyn said.

“Again? You’d think the rats would learn to avoid your place.”

“I’m sure real rats would learn. But we’re talking about the human variety. They aren’t that smart.”

CHAPTER 11

Another unstable client.

Sierra stifled a groan. Just what I do not need.

But a professional go-between had to overlook the minor inconveniences. She had already come to the conclusion that the vast majority of people connected to the underground market were weird in one way or another. Some were obsessive. Most were secretive and reclusive. A few were violent. And then there were the flat-out crazies. Figuring out how to handle the odd clients who came her way was a job requirement.

Still, she had never seen an aura quite like North Chastain’s.

She eased the SUV to the curb and brought it to a halt. It was almost ten o’clock and the streets in the old warehouse district were mostly empty of traffic. Over the last several hours they had exhausted the rumor mill. No luck.

She pretended to adjust the big rearview mirror while she heightened her senses so that she could study the reflection of North’s aura. There was plenty of power in it but there was something very disturbing going on as well. She already knew he was suffering from sleep deprivation, a factor that played havoc with even the strongest auras. But there was another, more alarming instability in the currents. It was obvious he was fighting the dissonance waves, but sooner or later he was going to lose the battle.

Not my problem, she reminded herself. I’m just the go-between.

She contemplated the boarded-up brick building looming in the shadows. A construction fence surrounded the three-story structure. Signs announced that the location would soon feature a new mixed-use office tower, but there was no indication the developer had begun the demolition phase.

“According to Matt’s message there’s an opening in the fence,” she said. “He’ll meet us inside the building.”

North studied the darkened structure through the windshield. “Out of curiosity, how often do you do late-night meetings like this?”

“Most of my work is done at night. This isn’t late. It’s only just ten.”

“Does it strike you that you’re in a high-risk business?”

“You’re a badass Foundation cleaner,” she said. “Talk about high risk. Ready to do this?”

“Ready.” North reached inside his jacket and took out a gun.

Startled, Sierra turned quickly in the seat. “Hey, hey, you won’t be needing that. Matt is a colleague. I trust him.”

“Good to know.”

But North did not holster the gun. He opened his door and got out. With a small sigh, Sierra opened her own door, jumped down to the pavement and joined him on the curb.

They found the place where the wire fence had been cut and slipped cautiously into the construction site. There was enough light from the streetlamps to guide them to what had once been a service door at the side of the building.