Page 136 of Silver Elite

“Have you not been listening in class all week? Information gathering is a delicate matter. You ingratiate yourself. You mine out tiny little nuggets until eventually you find that one shiny stone you need. Your objective is to make contact and ask about a job. You’re there because you don’t want to apply for Human Services—it’s too heavily regulated and there’s no credits to be made there.”

I nod even though he can’t see me. “I’m going in alone?”

I’m surprised Cross trusts me to carry this out. To get out of the car and just walk down the street unaccompanied. What if I run? What if I manage to escape?

“You’re never alone, sweetling. You should know that by now.”

Ford isn’t bluffing. I exit the vehicle to the sensation of a dozen pairs of eyes on me. I’m definitely being watched.

The street is busy for this time of night—it’s past ten, which is nearing the city’s midnight curfew. I’ve never been to Sanctum Point after dark, and I’m fascinated by the glow of neon lights and the blur of pedestrians. I’m in the heart of the Point’s entertainment district. I scan the storefronts until I locate my target. Haven.

I’m halfway down the pristine sidewalk toward it when I hear a low hum from above me. Catching a flash of movement, I glance up and gulp. An automated drone buzzes overhead, its mechanical eyes scanning the street for any signs of unrest or deviation from the norm. It moves on but leaves me feeling unsettled.

I stop in front of Haven, a brick building with a façade adorned with polished brass fittings and frosted-glass windows on the ground floor. A wave of noise washes over me when I walk in. The main room is alive with the buzz of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Round tables are scattered throughout the bar, occupied almost exclusively by men.

I make a show of glancing around uncertainly. Rub my arms in a self-conscious gesture. Drawing a few stares that I pretend not to see. The dress I chose for tonight’s op is short but not too short—the hem hovers above my knees. It’s sexy but not too sexy—the V neckline shows only a hint of cleavage. I’ve decided my alter ego is a blend of racy and modest, and this sleeveless dove-gray dress hugs my figure in all the right places without revealing too much.

I walk up to the bar carrying my evening bag. A slinky black thing containing the comm Hirai gave me on the base when I signed out my earpiece. I slide onto a stool, shifting awkwardly as I cross my legs.

The bartender wanders over. A woman with short hair and tattoos. “What do you need?” she asks in a husky voice.

“How many credits for something that isn’t synthetic?”

“Probably a lot more than you can afford, darling.”

“Oh. Okay. Synth whiskey then.”

When she notices my disappointed expression, hers softens.

I pull my comm out of my bag and hold it out so she can scan it, removing five credits from my Lux account.

To my shock, when she turns toward the bar, she grabs a bottle of the pure stuff. Not the kind that’s created in a lab somewhere in the capital.

She winks at me. “Our secret?” she says, and my chest squeezes, because those two teasing words bring to mind Morlee Hadley and the sweets she used to sneak into my hand when Jim wasn’t looking.

I give her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Celebrating something in particular?”

“It’s my birthday.” I shrug. “Thought it would be nice to see how the elites live for a night.”

“Well, happy birthday, darling.” She slides the glass toward me.

“Thank you.”

At my first sip, I almost moan out loud. Holy hellfuck. The taste of pure whiskey is a goddamn revelation. The rich flavor dances across my tongue with a fiery intensity and goes down so smoothly compared with the synthetic stuff I’ve only ever consumed.

“Good, right?” The bartender is grinning at my response.

“I believe that’s an understatement.”

I swirl the glass. Even the color of it is more…vibrant. The golden liquid gleams at me, its amber hues shimmering like captured sunlight.

The woman goes to serve another patron, and I swivel on my stool and watch the room. I spot more than a few Command soldiers, though I suppose that makes sense. Soldiers like to get drunk and laid.

From the corner of my vision, I see the bartender return. I turn around, hesitating before asking, “Do you know where I can find Shenise?”

She frowns.

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