Page 59 of Love Me Darkly
After a moment of shuffling with cups and napkins, everyone had their coffee and pastries, and Mateo fell easily into his role. He felt steadier now than he had in weeks, his mind clear and his thoughts ordered.
“Darcy, have you found anything yet on Vestra and its owner?”
“Not much,” she said around a mouth full of apple fritter. “But it’s enough for me to know there’s definitely connections between this G. Vale and The Veil. I’m thinking it’s a pseudonym and not a very clever one. Vale and Veil … seems pretty obvious. But there’s something else … something even more interesting. It seems The Veil is in the middle of a round of recruitment.”
Williams frowned. “That doesn’t make sense if we follow the assumption that the murders are ritualistic in nature after all. We assumed the UNSUB was escalating when he killed here so soon after killing in Arkansas. But there’s been no further movement. If he were truly devolving, he’d have killed again by now. If he’s stopped so suddenly after an acceleration, it can only mean something else is coming. The murders have laid the stage for something bigger.”
“Maybe this recruitment is a part of that something bigger,” Mateo offered. “Darcy, how do you know they’re recruiting?”
Darcy answered after taking a swig of her coffee—some sweet designer confection with too much sugar and four shots of espresso. “I stumbled on some invite-only, encrypted forums and managed to get in. While lurking, I noticed some phrases that indicate they’re looking for ‘worthy initiates’. People who are free and unattached, able to devote their lives to the cause.”
“And we’re sure it’s the cause of The Veil.”
“Without question. These are the same guys I see talking about ritual drug ceremonies and spiritual ascension. It’s them. And then, there’s Tattoo Guy.”
Mateo looked to Smith. “What about him?”
“Managed to get a picture,” Smith replied, polishing off a glazed donut. “Darcy ran it through her databases.”
Darcy pushed a file across the table to Mateo, and he flipped it open. “Meet Caleb Morgan, twenty-seven years old, native of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Emancipated from his family at sixteen due to some instability—deceased father, incarcerated, meth-addicted mother. Juvenile record consisting of petty theft, drug possession, and assault. No real employment history beyond the occasional construction gig, and it seems he makes a little money off the books doing odd jobs. No known spouse, children, or other familial ties.”
Mateo inspected the man’s driver’s license photo, finding a gaunt face, a bristle of blond hair and watery blue eyes. The proof of Darcy’s claims was revealed as he flipped through the reports.
“Any ties to Valemont? He has the Seal of Azrael tattooed on his back and hangs out at both Solstice and the mansion. He has to be a member of The Veil. Maybe an acolyte or a lower-level soldier.”
“No ties to Valemont, but his financial records indicate ties to Vestra. He receives biweekly direct deposits for about fifteen hundred dollars. But there are no tax records—no W-2s filed, and Caleb reported an income on last year’s return that put him below the poverty level. Whatever they’re paying him for, it’s not legit.”
“I think I know what they’re paying him for,” Smith interjected. “I’ve followed him long enough to notice some patterns. Guy hangs out at a lot of clubs and bars, goes to raves and drug houses … places where the scum of the earth hang out.”
“Or places where disillusioned men with axes to grind hang out,” Williams chimed in.
“Exactly,” Smith agreed. “He’s a recruiter. On the surface, he just seems like an over-friendly party animal—likes to drink and get high and socialize with new people. But he rarely approaches women, even though he’s obviously interested. He focuses on men close to his age.”
Williams accepted the file from Mateo and flipped through it. “If he’s a recruiter and they’re looking for fresh blood in advance of some big event, we might be able to infiltrate.”
“We’re not there yet,” Donovan argued. “So far, we’ve only been able to get preliminary surveillance of the mansion, which means outer surveillance only.”
“Plus, my investigation of the place revealed that several countersurveillance measures are in place,” Darcy added. “We won’t be able to get very close, and we won’t see much. Unless we capture something from a distance or hear the right combination of words over the Solstice wiretaps, we won’t be able to make a move.”
“We’ll get something,” Jones said. “Korenic is due back in five days, and he’ll probably spend a lot of time at the club.”
“There’s an event being planned for his return,” Mateo said. “I’m thinking that’ll be the night we get what we need. The place will be packed and most of Korenic’s associates will be there. It will make sense for them to hit those back rooms. He’s going to want explanations over the raid, and he’ll want to give orders on what their next move should be.”
“Say we get enough intel to convince the brass to approve an undercover operation,” Donovan said. “Who are we sending in?”
“Me, obviously,” Mateo said firmly, leaving no room for discussion. He wouldn’t risk the lives of any other person in this room on such a dangerous assignment. The more they learned about the inner workings of The Veil, the more important it became for them to proceed with caution. He was the most experienced agent in the room besides Smith and had undergone numerous undercover operations in the past.
“There’s only one problem with that,” Williams pointed out. “Smith said this Caleb guy sticks to men his own age, and our knowledge of this cult indicates that they want young guys. You’re too old, which means Smith is, too.”
“Besides, the UNSUB knows who you are,” Jones pointed out. “If he’s a part of The Veil and happens to be in town for whatever’s going down, he’ll recognize you on sight.”
Mateo curled his fingers into his palm and gritted his teeth. The logic of those arguments couldn’t be denied, no matter how badly he wanted to disagree. There went his plan for protecting the members of his team. He glanced around the table and weighed his options. Remembering the information from his jacket, he swiveled his gaze to Donovan.
“You,” he said.
Donovan nodded in acceptance of the task, but then Darcy spoke up.
“Um, that won’t work either. Unfortunately, while Donovan is the right age, he isn’t the right … skin color. You aren’t either, Garcia.”
