The plan was a simple one. Celeste came up with it herself.

If her assumptions about Bhasvah were true, then he'd have little interest in meeting with her. Worse, he might fire her if she pressed him about the wrong topics. Scanning him might prove useful, but it would also be noticeable.

She needed access to his house and personal belongings. Her lenses could scan for security around the house, but there was no way to disable said security. Picking locks wasn't one of her skills, and she didn't want to risk breaking a window and leaving evidence behind.

The only safe way in was to be invited, and that meant going in through the front door. Who better to show up uninvited in the middle of the night than a collector?

Nancy brought a black hoodie and mask for Celeste to wear. The mask was fashioned like a Japanese demon, complete with fiery breath. Josie was none too thrilled to work with a collector, someone who had no loyalty and could just as easily be her enemy tomorrow.

"Give me better options, then," Celeste demanded. "I'm waitin'."

After a short silence, Josie relented. Celeste told Nancy to text her either when she'd disabled Bhasvah's security, or realized she couldn't. The mask would come in handy if the latter turned out to be the case.

Josie linked the contacts to a solid state drive on her laptop to record streams of data too taxing for Celeste's brain. This way, Celeste need only glance at documents or emails. She could replay the footage and pause it later to read the text more carefully.

"I wouldn't have given you my number if I knew you'd be calling me every night," Nancy half-joked as they walked up the long driveway.

"Consider this part of your investment. My deal's no good to you if I'm dead."

"Someone threatened you? Already?"

"Yes. But if everything goes smooth-like tonight, then it shouldn't be a worry for much longer."

Celeste hid behind a tree and listened for Nancy.

Nancy beat on the front door as if meaning to knock it down with her fist. It didn't take long for someone to answer.

Celeste peeked around the corner. She'd only ever seen Bhasvah's picture once. He was an older man, tall and handsome with salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, and a short beard. Despite the late hour, he was still dressed in formal slacks and a white shirt.

His eyes lit up with recognition when he saw Nancy.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked in a smooth, silky voice. Had Celeste been a bit older, and her life not in danger, she might have considered working with him a bit more closely.

"Cut the crap, Mizrahi. You know why I'm here."

"I don't. I paid Angelo his due."

Wait, Angelo? As in the arms seller?

"He wants interest," she snapped, and placed one hand on the door frame.

Bhasvah didn't seem impressed, nor did he seem intimidated. Celeste shifted slightly in her spot. Was this normal? Nancy had scared the hell out of her when they'd first met, but she was either a regular visitor to Bhasvah, or the man had nerves of steel!

"Angelo usually lets me know when interest is due." Suspicion crept into his voice. To be safe, Celeste hunkered down behind the tree, curling her already small frame into a tight ball. "Why wasn't I notified?"

"Hell if know. You wanna call Angelo and waste time confirming everything, be my guest. You've got his number. Otherwise, we can just take fifteen minutes to do our business and everyone can go to sleep."

Everything in Bhasvah's poise told Celeste he was a pragmatic man, and had they arrived an hour or two sooner, he would have made the phone call to be certain. But the bags under his eyes told a different story. He made an annoyed noise, and Celeste heard a faint footstep.

"Fifteen minutes," he growled. "And make it quick. Zérah's already in a bad mood tonight."

Zérah? His wife, maybe?

The door shut. Celeste waited patiently.

Several minutes passed. Nancy had never had to disable someone's security before, and they knew next to nothing about Bhasvah's measures. How she accomplished that task, they'd decided, would be up to her. All Celeste could do was wait and believe she'd come through on her promise.

Her phone lit up.

CAMS ARE DOWN. WINDOW IN THE BACK.

Time to go.

Still crouched, Celeste made her way around the back of the house, keeping close to the wall, until she found window that had been left open a crack. She slid one gloved hand beneath it, lifted, and slid inside.

Bhasvah's office was as neat and tidy as the man himself. It looked more like a show room in a model house. A fake snake plant sat in one corner below generic pictures of the ocean. Thick tomes lined a large bookshelf, topped off with knick-knacks. Momentum stands, a small model of the solar system, a novelty coffee mug.

The desk was a thick mahogany behemoth that gleamed as though it had just been refinished this morning, capturing and reflecting every ounce of lamplight. A tri-monitor setup spanned the length of it, with a thick bundle of cords snaking down the back and into a beastly computer.

Fortunately, it seemed Bhasvah had been in the middle of working when Nancy had come knocking. His computer was on, and the screen hadn't locked yet. Celeste quickly grabbed the mouse, careful to note which position it had been in.

"Scan," she commanded.

The left screen was a bunch of financial data built into a spreadsheet. Graphs and charts, things she couldn't make heads or tails of. The second seemed to be a list of invoices, with a minimized window that seemed to be a program for exterior camera controls. The third was an email inbox.

Perfect.

Celeste typed in Black Cat. Countless emails popped up, most of them newer and to various recipients. She clicked through them, focusing her eyes enough to make out the form of the words before clicking to the next. She didn't need to read them. The recording would suffice.

Once she'd looked through all the emails, she tried another key word: café. Fewer results this time, and more than a handful of spam advertisements.

Next: Morgan. Only a handful of results this time, most of them from last year. Once more, Celeste began to open and scan them.

And then she paused.

Wait. Does that say what I think it says?

FROM: MARVIN RUSSEL

TO: BHASVAH MIZRAHI

RE: RING SIZING

Mr. Mizrahi,

We apologize that the ring size for Ms. Morgan was incorrect. We've expedited your request to have a new one shipped to our local branch ASAP. Please expect delivery within 72 hours. A representative will call you once they confirm your order has arrived.

As discussed over the phone, a credit of $100.00 will be applied to your account.

Please feel free to contact us if you have any questions.

Signed,

Marvin Russel

LOVE'S JEWEL | SENIOR MANAGER

The email was dated a year and a half ago.

Bhasvah and Morgan were engaged? Guess things didn't end well. That must be what she meant by the shop being "rightfully hers". A woman scorned.

Celeste had seen what she needed. She set everything back in its rightful place and went to head for the door.

But then a picture caught her eye. It was one of many on the desk, but one of the few that didn't look like it had been purchased from a home decor shop.

Bhasvah, Morgan, and an unknown woman — likely his sister, they looked so alike — at the beach. Zérah, perhaps. Smiling, happy. Bhasvah's arm was wrapped around Morgan's waist so hard that he looked really to pull her into his being (or likely the other way around).

Not the sort of photo you'd keep around of an ex-lover. Had she been wrong about Morgan being scorned? Was it Bhasvah who'd been on the receiving end, instead?

Curiosity got the better of her. Celeste did a quick file search, scanning images of the two together for later use.

She sneaked out of the office and down the hall, where Josie's conversation echoed. She paused near the corner, between a hallway stand and closet.

"…work last week."

"Yes," Bhasvah was saying, "that order was one of my quickest. I used the new Sinclair M011. I can vouch for its reliability. Very little recoil, amazing precision. Are you in need in services?" Bhasvah asked, his tone shifting somewhat. "Or are you just making conversation?"

"I try not to find myself in a position where I'll need a hitman to come save me. Thanks, though."

Celeste leaned around the corner and eyed Bhasvah. "Unrestricted scan," she whispered just loud enough for her implant to activate. Text crawled across her field of vision.

NAME: BHASVAH MIZRAHI

DOB: NOVEMBER 2, 2095

AGE: 51

RACE/ETHNICITY: OTHER

(ADD. INFO: CAUCASIAN, AFRICAN, HISPANIC)

OCCUPATION: BLACK CAT CAFE OWNER

STATUS: ORGANIC

(ADD. INFO: NO IMPLANTS REGISTERED)

RESIDENCE: RADIANT CITY

(ADD. INFO: REG. DATE: NOVEMBER 2, 2095)

RELATIVES: Zérah MIZRAHI (SIB) /SONIA MIZRAHI (MAT) / DIRESH MIZRAHI (PAT)

MARITAL STATUS: N

BUSINESS OWNER: Y

C. REC: TRESPASSING

HEIGHT: 6'0 /182.88 CM

WEIGHT: 230LBS / 104.32 KG

TOBACCO USE: Y

EYE COLOR: BROWN

HAIR COLOR: BLACK

SHOE SIZE: 14

TATTOOS: SKULL (UPPER RIGHT BICEP)

LAST PHYS. EXAM: NOVEMBER 29, 2146

ONLINE ALIASES: BHASTHECAT

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: UNKNOWN

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: INDEPENDENT

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: HETEROSEXUAL

MOST SEARCHED KEYWORDS: COFFEE / RENT / IMPLANT

LAST ONLINE PURCHASES: MAXPOWER AAA BATTERIES (24PK) / MAXPOWER 24TB SSD / LENA MAXWELL 6PC BAKING SET, STONEWARE, LIMITED EDITION

"Excuse me." A feminine voice Celeste didn't recognize. Zérah? "I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Oh shit.

Shuffling, rustling as Zérah left her seat. Celeste yanked the closet door open and slid inside, propping one leg awkwardly atop a suitcase while heavy coat sleeves draped across her forehead. She pulled the door to — and it caught on her foot, unable to close.

Shit, shit, shit!

Zérah's shadow snaked up the wall parallel to her. Celeste had no other choice. She hopped up onto the suitcase, one knee planted in the support rods while the other foot pressed against its edge in the most awkward position she'd ever experienced. But it freed up just enough room for her to pull the closet door shut.

Zérah sauntered by, yawning, oblivious to the orange glow emanating from within the closet.

"Scan!" Celeste whispered, but it was no use. Fearing Zérah overhearing her, she'd kept her voice low. Too low for the implant to pick up the command. Zérah slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.

"…work with him much anymore," Nancy was saying. "Kinda surprised he wanted me to do this job."

"As am I. And surprised it's taking so long." An edge entered Bhasvah's voice. "You have your interest, and, and I think your search has been more than thorough. It's time you left."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something," Nancy said quickly. "I…haven't been entirely honest with you. I wanted to talk to you about the café. About the new night manager."

Nancy, what are you doing?!

She wouldn't sell her out. She couldn't. Being a part of the Cat's operation was null and void if Celeste wasn't there. Unless…

Her stomach dropped.

Unless she's made a deal with someone else behind my back.

A brief pause. "I wasn't aware you were a customer. Collectors usually try to avoid the presence of those they've collected from. Is there a problem with the services being provided?"

"Not necessarily. Just wondering why you chose her, of all people. Barely knows anything about the city. Has no friends here, nothing. Doesn't exactly strike me as the capable type."

Another pause. Celeste tried to control her breathing.

"That's exactly why," Bhasvah said.

"Are you trying to sink the business? You threw a toddler in the ring with a bunch of pro-wrestlers, and you expect her to get something done?" Nancy didn't sound angry. Only curious. That made Celeste a little sad. She would have hoped Nancy, of all people, might be a little upset on her behalf. Some friend.

"It's interesting that you said toddler. Do you know what toddlers have that the rest of us don't? Freedom. They have no ego. No ulterior motives, no preconceived notions."

"They're easily manipulated."

"True, but they're also a blank slate, unmarked by anyone's influence. True neutrality. Perhaps the new manager will get herself killed within the week. Perhaps she'll become someone's mouthpiece — in which case, I'll have her…replaced. But Radiant City is a place of opportunity. If she's able to learn quickly, then she may well forge her own path and do what I, with all my complicated allegiances, couldn't."

"Which is?"

"Win."

Click.

The bathroom door began to open.

"Scan!" Celeste hissed more loudly this time.

Zérah came into view. "Bhas, I think you need to check the piping in the bathroom again. Just hissed at me like a snake."

Celeste's eyes burned. Her skull felt as though hot coals had been poured into it.

NAME: ZERAHhMORGANMASELLI ERROR INDETERMINATE

DOB: ERROR

AGE: 000

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: YES

ONLINE ALIASES: INTERNET

SHOE SIZE: 99999

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

TERMINATING PROCESS

Celeste clenched her teeth as hard as she could. Her eyeballs were hot embers set tight in her skull. She pulled at her skin, wanting nothing more than to pull it off and pull her eyes out from their sockets.

She threw the closet door open. It didn't matter if Bhasvah caught her now. Nothing mattered more than the horrible pain in her face and eyes.

"What was that noise?" someone asked.

Celeste pressed her fingers into her temples and staggered toward the bathroom. The lights around her flickered. She stepped into the bathroom, lifted herself up into the window, and fell out onto the ground.

"Stop…scan…" she managed to say. Her tongue sizzled as though it'd been put onto a griddle. "Stop…"

She had just enough time to realize what was happening before she collapsed, and everything went black.