If transfusions were taking place on the Center’s premises, Ellie saw absolutely no signs of it.

But she knew something blood related had to be happening here, because Frank was involved, and Frank was involved in the blood world and wanted her to work with high-end clientele. If transfusions were taking place on the premises, she was sure they were going down on one or both of the top two floors. The newly renovated building on Santa Monica Boulevard had a total of ten. The key card issued to her allowed access to every single room on floors one through eight, but nine and ten were strictly off-limits—they didn’t have a key card reader.

“They have to be doing the transfusions there,” Ellie told Roland a week later. She had met him at traffic court, where they waited with other people waiting to go before a judge to argue a speeding or parking ticket. Roland’s people had planted one on her car, to get her to meet him here, early this morning. To an outsider, they looked like two people who happened to be sitting next to each other, indulging in polite chitchat.

Roland said, “But you haven’t seen any signs of a transfusion taking place anywhere in the building.”

“No. Nothing. Patients who come in are out within an hour—not enough time for a full-body transfusion.”

“Maybe they’re getting a pint.”

“I thought of that and checked their arms for needle marks. I’m telling you, it’s not happening during normal business hours. Maybe they’re bringing blood patients there at night or on the weekends.” Roland, she knew, had people watching the Center.

“No one is coming there on nights or weekends,” Roland said. “At least not yet.”

“What’s going on with that carrier I tagged for you?”

“It’s a dead end.”

“Why?”

“That liquid GPS didn’t work out quite the way we wanted it to.”

“You lost him.”

“We prefer the term temporarily out of pocket. Sounds better. We’re investigating some angles. I’ll let you know if anything develops. Hang tight.”

Roland was about to stand when Ellie said, “I think Frank changed his mind about having me work with his high-end clientele.”

“It’s only been a week. They’re probably watching you, see how you work—see if they can fully trust you.”

“Or they’ve dug deeper into my background and found something.”

“Your cover story is rock-solid.” Roland caught her doubtful expression and added, “You seriously believe we’d send you into an undercover situation without making sure you were one hundred percent safe?”

“What if they’re looking for Ellie Batista?”

“Ellie is skipping around the globe, providing security for a self-help celebrity. If anyone asks for her, makes any inquiries, we’d know, and no one has. If that changes, I’ll let you know—”

“I’m worried about pictures. I know you said your people scoured the Internet, removed any pictures of me, but what if they found one? What if your people missed something?”

“We’ve taken care of everything. Stop worrying.”