Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“It kind of is,” Chuck agreed.
I looked to Max, brows furrowed. “I think it was peaceful how quiet it is,” she admitted. “But I can see what they’re saying.”
It was one of the things I liked best about the building. How when they renovated it a few years back, they invested a ton of time and money into insulating it better. It kept heating and cooling costs down, sure, but it also made the building shockingly quiet. By New York standards anyway.
I looked through the peephole out of a protective sort of paranoia before unlocking the door and letting Zeno in.
He’d thrown an enormous faux fur, floor-sweeping jacket on over his already absurd outfit and was carrying a laptop in one hand as he rushed past me into the apartment.
“I half expected those twins from that horror movie to come riding up on their tricycles at me,” Zeno said, suppressing a shiver. “This is nice, though. How’s Lil?”
“She’s recovering,” Max said. “We’re gonna check on her tomorrow.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“We were just going to call you, actually,” Max said.
“About what?” Zeno asked, plucking a cold taco off the tray on the table and taking crunching bite.
“Possibly looking at luxury hotels for this fuck,” I told him.
“Funny you mention that,” Zeno said, taking another bite with one hand as he opened his laptop lid with the other. One-handed, he clicked in a long-ass password before the screen came up.
“He ducked into a cab at the cross street outside of Lil’s place. He was limping pretty bad.”
“You were able to follow the cab?” I asked.
“It didn’t go far,” Zeno said. “You know that new tech hotel they built?”
“No,” Max and I said at the same time that Chuck said, “Yes.”
“Well, there’s a new tech hotel. Now, I like tech, obviously,” Zeno said. “But sometimes it goes too far.”
“Too far how?” Max asked.
“There’s no staff. Well, there is a cleaning staff, but only sometimes. The whole place is run on cards and scanners and apps and shit like that. Once those autonomous robots hit the market, I bet they will be doing the cleaning. You never have to actually speak to anyone. An introvert’s dream, I guess, but also a huge security risk.”
“Anyway,” I prompted.
“Anyway, our suspect is clearly some kind of intolerable tech bro. He couldn’t resist getting himself an overpriced, sterilized room there. That’s where the cab dropped him off. Convenient, I guess. No one to see his bloody leg, to call the cops. He just scanned his card and made his way up.”
“Please tell me you have a name and room number.”
“Well, let me just say… these tech bros know what they’re doing. They’re good. But I’m better. Getting in was a lot of work, but not impossible.”
“What’s his name?” Max asked, voice tight.
“Devon Hoffman. Twenty-nine.”
“Wait… Hoffman?” I asked.
“Yeah. He was Henry Hoffman’s cousin. Fucked up family they got going on,” Zeno said with a head shake as he reached for another taco. “From what I can tell, he’s been a deadbeat a long time. Never holding a job down longer than a few months. Constantly getting into drunk and disorderlies. Seems like our boy Henry took him in as a favor to his aunt.”
“And Henry trusted the wrong guy with his secrets,” Max said, eyes sad.
“Alright. We know his name. And we know where he is,” I said. “Can you get me in there?”
“That, unfortunately, I haven’t figured out yet. But I do know from watching too much surveillance footage that this fuck is a smoker. And since the hotel is non-smoking, he has to go outside. Which he has since he got there. Several times a day. Now, I haven’t seen him emerge since he went in after getting shot. But I imagine it’s only a matter of time.”
That was something.
Snatching someone off the street was a lot easier than it should be in a city full of witnesses. From there, I could take him to one of Brio’s killing rooms. It could be as clean or dirty as I wanted.
But it only solved one problem.
“Can I use his card to get into his room?” I asked. “Or would I be caught on all kinds of cameras?”
“Both. But… it’s winter.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that no carefully placed code that overrides the current security footage will work quite as well as a guy in an oversized coat wearing a balaclava mask.” He paused to chew. Then, “So long as you keep it on and wear gloves, you’re golden. Get in, get the diamonds, get out. Disappear into the crowd.”
“Keep the mask on in the room?” I clarified.
“Yeah. I mean, first, it protects from trace evidence. You wouldn’t believe how much hair and skin cells we shed all around without realizing it. But also… I’m not entirely sure how they know that the rooms are empty and ready to be reoccupied again.”