I cut right to the chase. “Someone is backstabbing the people who saved your life, and I won’t have it.”

Marcone raised his eyebrows. “Please explain.”

I told him about Thorned Namshiel and the coin.

“I don’t have it,” Marcone said.

“Do any of your people?” I asked.

He frowned at that question. Then he leaned back in his chair and put his elbows on the arms of it, resting the fingertips of his hands together.

“Where is Gard?” I asked.

“Reporting to her home office,” he murmured. “I will make inquiries.”

I wondered if Marcone was lying to me. It wasn’t a habit of his, but that only meant that when he did tell a lie, it was all the more effective. I wondered if he was telling the truth. If so, then maybe Monoc Securities had just acquired their own Fallen angel and expert in magic and magical theory.

“The child,” Marcone said. “Is she well?”

“She’s safe,” I said. “She’s with people who care about her.”

He nodded. “Good. Was there anything else?”

“No,” I said.

“Then you should get some rest,” Marcone said. “You look”—his mouth twitched up at the corners—“like a raccoon. Who has been run over by a locomotive.”

“Next time I leave your wise ass on the island,” I said, scowling, and stalked out.

I was on the way out of the building when I decided to make one more stop.

Madam Demeter was in her office, dressed as stylishly as ever.

“Hello, Mister Dresden,” she said as she put several files away, neatly, precisely ordering them. “I’m quite busy. I hope this won’t take too long.”

“No,” I said. “I just wanted to share a theory with you.”

“Theory?”

“Yeah. See, in all the excitement and explosions and demonic brouhaha, everyone’s forgotten a small detail.”

Her fingers stopped moving.

“Someone gave the Denarians the location of Marcone’s panic room. Someone close to him. Someone who would know many of his secrets. Someone who would have a good reason to want to hurt him.”

Demeter turned just her head to face me, eyes narrowed.

“A lot of men talk to the women they sleep with,” I said. “That’s always been true. And it would give you a really good reason to get close to him.”

“He’s like a lot of men,” Demeter said quietly.

“I know you’ve got a gun in that drawer,” I told her. “Don’t try it.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” she said.

“Because I’m not going to give you to Marcone.”

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I might ask you for information sometimes. If you could help me without endangering yourself, I’d appreciate it. Either way, it doesn’t affect whether or not I talk to Marcone.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Maybe I want to see him go down someday,” I said. “But mostly because it’s none of my damned business. I just wanted you to know that I’d seen you. This time maybe he won’t put it all together. He’s got more likely suspects than you inside his organization—and I’d be shocked if you hadn’t already realized what a great patsy Torelli is going to make.”