Skeet grabbed a pen, started writing. “How many attendees?”
“Twelve confirmed guests, plus Dr. Volkov. All pharmaceutical executives, research scientists, or venture capitalists with interests in emerging medical technologies. Andhere’s something that’ll make your day—one of the confirmed attendees was supposed to be Dr. Marko Radic.”
“Supposed to be?”
“As of two hours ago, his registration was cancelled. Officially due to ‘unexpected illness.’”
Chloe’s face went pale. “They killed him.”
“I can’t confirm that from here, but if I were a betting woman...” Coco’s voice trailed off. “My guess is that someone wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be talking to the wrong people at that resort. Speaking of which, there’s something else you should know. Ham told me about your fun and games, and I pulled security footage from the garage. I found that woman who helped you escape. Dark hair, approximately thirty years old, professional-photographer equipment.”
“Yeah,” Skeet said.
“She’s an operative who goes by the alias ‘Lynx’ in certain circles.”
“Certain circles?”
“The kind where people pay very well for information, documents, and other valuable items. She works for a highly secretive organization called the Black Swans.”
Skeet stilled, glanced at Chloe. She frowned at him.
“Swans have a reputation for being in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to acquire things that don’t belong to them,” Coco said.
Skeet’s jaw clenched. “Like Chloe’s phone.”
“With all your evidence conveniently stored on it. I’m not sure what her plan is, but it’s possible that phone is in Volkov’s hands by now.”
He blew out a breath. Chloe pressed her hands over her face.
“There’s more,” Coco continued. “I did some digging into Dr. Radic’s hotel registration. He’s staying at the same hotel asyou, three floors up. Room 1247. If you want to confirm what happened to him, that’s where you should start.”
“How do we get into his room?”
He could almost hear her smile. “Funny you should ask. Hotel security systems these days are surprisingly vulnerable to the right kind of digital persuasion. I could theoretically create a temporary malfunction in the electronic locks on that floor.”
“Theoretically,” Skeet repeated.
“And if someone were to accidentally walk past room 1247 during this theoretical malfunction, and if the door were to theoretically open due to a computer glitch, well. Sometimes technology fails at the most inconvenient times.”
Chloe looked at him, eyebrows raised.
“Do it,” Skeet said.
“Give me a few minutes to work my theoretical magic. And Skeet? Be careful up there. If Volkov’s people are cleaning house, they might have left someone behind.”
“As in lying in wait.”
“Watch your six.” The line went dead.
Chloe was already moving toward the door. “We should go now, before?—”
“Wait.” He got up and caught her arm. “If Dr. Radic is dead, this isn’t a fact-finding mission anymore. This is a crime scene. Which means we get involved, we become suspects.”
“Which is why we need to see it before they clean up the evidence.”
“And if we walk into another trap?”
She met his eyes. Something there made his chest tight. Not fear—determination. The same look she’d worn when she’d spotted Lynx, when she’d made the split-second decision to trust a stranger rather than let them get caught.