I continued on, and while most of my attention remained on the wind and its flow of information, I was nevertheless aware when Mathi’s car pulled up and he climbed out.
“He still active?”
“According to the wind, yes.”
It was absently said, and I felt more than saw his frown. “Any idea where?”
“East.”
He snorted. “That really pins the area down somewhat.”
“Listening to the wind is an art I haven’t quite gotten a handle on yet, so just hold onto your britches for a second,” I replied crossly.
He raised his eyebrows but otherwise didn’t reply.
I wrapped my fingers around the Eye, closed my eyes, and focused on the wind. For several seconds all I saw was a veil of gray—a thick fog that had more to do with my inexperience when it came to focusing on what the wind was trying to show me than any true impediment. Then the Eye pulsed, and the fog lifted; images immediately flowed through my mind, as fast as the wind herself—a white-painted two-story house, fields of orderly green marked with flags, our thief walking through the front door. As he disappeared inside, the images shifted, revealing a silver SUV sitting almost opposite the house and two shadowy figures within, watching, waiting. Backup, perhaps? Had our thief been spooked enough by my appearance at the cottage to have brought help this time?
“Golf course,” I said. “They’re on a street that runs alongside it.”
“The golf course up that way has streets on all four sides, but that at least is a good start.”
He waved me inside the vehicle. I scrambled in, did up the seat belt, and then said, “This one has some sort of crossover point from one part of the golf course to the other.”
“That would be Church Lane, sir,” Henrick said. “I’m a member there and know the crossing well.”
If Henrick could afford to be a member, then Mathi certainly was paying himextremelywell. It was one of the finest—and most expensive—parkland golf courses in the entire region.
“Get us there at speed please, Henrick.”
“At once, sir.” The privacy screen slid up, and Henrick obeyed, the wheels spinning just a little on the wet road surface before gripping and sending us rocketing forward.
“Did you see anything else?” Mathi asked. “I take it he isn’t alone, given you said ‘they’re.’”
“He’s brought two people with him this time—they’re sitting in an SUV outside a two-story modern brick home a couple of doors up from the target house and the crossover.” I glanced at him. “I don’t suppose your father gave you any insights about Carla and her many identities?”
“No, he was surprisingly uncooperative.”
I raised my eyebrows at the deep annoyance in his expression. Mathi and Ruadhán had never been particularly close, even by light elf standards, but there had always been a mutual respect and understanding between the two. I’d never, in all the years I’d been in Mathi’s life, known Ruadhán to knock back an information request from his son.
“Do you know why?”
“He quoted the delicacy of the situation and the need not to alarm the public.”
“The public are well aware that the bank was raided, so that horse has already bolted.” I grabbed the “oh shit” handle as Henrick expertly spun the car around a corner at speed, then flattened his foot again. “And he’s not the type to bow to external pressure, be it the council or even Ljósálfar or Myrkálfar elders.”
“I think it likely the bank’s board are pressing for a quick result. They believe it will help restore faith in the bank.”
“Why would one targeted theft in the how many hundreds of years they’ve been safekeeping other people’s savings greatly affect their standing?”
“They pride themselves as being the only bank never to have fallen foul of robbery.”
“Well, that’s the problem right there,” I replied, amused. “Put that sort of statement out in the world, and Fate will eventually take up the challenge. She can be a bitch like that.”
He snorted and fell silent. I watched the world speed by, the Eye pulsing lightly on my chest, perhaps in time to the scratching in the wind I currently couldn’t hear. We turned sharply left at a roundabout and entered Church Lane. Henrick slowed, moving past a large white van that was partially parked up on the curb but still taking a good portion of our side of the road, before continuing on, sweeping around a long curve to the right. Up ahead, a white SUV was parked up on the wrong side of the road, its darkened windows not allowing us to see if anyone remained inside.
“That’s it,” I said. “That’s the vehicle.”
Mathi pressed a button, and the privacy screen slid down. “Please slow, Henrick; the target car is that white SUV.”
