Chapter 7 - BreadcrumbsThe neon lights of the underground club bled through the rain-slicked windows of Adrian’s private booth. The bass thumped through the floorboards, drowning out the conversations of the city's criminal elite. Adrian didn't belong here, but his money did, and in this world, cash was the ultimate skeleton key.
He sat across from a woman named Silas. She was a high-end data broker, a ghost in the dark web who trafficked in secrets the way Wall Street traded stocks.
"You're asking for trouble, Whitmore," Silas said, blowing a stream of blue cigarette smoke into the air. "The syndicate you're asking about... they aren't street thugs. They're an international human trafficking ring catering to the ultra-rich. The Blackwood Consortium. They buy leverage. Hostages. People."
Adrian slid a heavy, black titanium drive across the table. It contained three million dollars in untraceable cryptocurrency.
"I don't care who they are, Silas. I want to know where they keep their assets. Specifically, a woman named Anna Whitmore. She was taken exactly thirteen months ago."
Silas stared at the drive. She reached out, her manicured fingers tapping the metal. "The Blackwood Consortium operates out of neutral waters. They use a converted luxury cruise liner, the Aethelgard, as a floating fortress. They move it every forty-eight hours to avoid satellite detection."
"How do I find it?"
"You don't," Silas said grimly. "You get invited. They hold an auction on the first of every month. Tomorrow is the first, Adrian. But you can't just buy a ticket. You need a biometric token from an existing member."
Adrian’s mind raced. An existing member. Someone wealthy, corrupt, and deeply tied to the underworld. Someone like the man who sold Anna to them in the first place.
"Can you track the financial routing numbers Charles uses for his private security?" Adrian asked.
Silas plugged the drive into her tablet. Her fingers flew across the screen for three minutes. She looked up, her expression a mix of awe and dread. "Your stepfather didn't just sell her to the Consortium, Adrian. He's one of their platinum investors. He has a proxy token."
Adrian stood up, buttoning his coat. "Where is the token?"
"According to his encrypted travel logs, it never leaves his person. He keeps it in a customized gold money clip," Silas said.
"Thanks, Silas. Keep the drive."
Adrian walked out of the club into the freezing rain. He pulled out his burner phone and dialed the cabin.
"Scott," Adrian said as soon as his brother answered. "I found her. She’s on a ship called the Aethelgard. But we have a problem. The only way on that boat is through a token Charles carries in his pocket, and the ship sails tomorrow night."
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Over the line, Adrian heard the furious clacking of a mechanical keyboard.
"Then we don't pick his pocket," Scott’s voice came through, cold and precise. "We make him hand it over."
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