The hunt for Dr. Alistair Ellis was a hunt for a ghost. In the hours following the discovery of Councilman Davies's body, Marcus's global network of analysts descended upon Ellis's digital life like a pack of wolves, tearing it to shreds. They found nothing. Every known address was a long-abandoned shell. Every bank account was drained. Every digital record was scrubbed with a professional, military-grade precision that spoke of a meticulously planned exit strategy.
"He's gone," Marcus stated, his voice a low, frustrated growl as he stared at the dead ends on the main screen of the war room. "Silas must have pulled him out the moment we accessed his server in the lab."
"No," I said, my eyes scanning a different set of data—not the clean, official records, but the messy, corrupted data fragments we had retrieved from the Monaco courier. My training wasn't just in combat and infiltration; it was in finding the human flaws, the greedy little habits that even the most careful man leaves behind. "A man like Ellis, a man obsessed with his work, doesn't just run. He relocates. He needs a new lab. He needs new supplies."
I focused on a series of heavily encrypted pharmaceutical orders, the same ones that had led us to the Marseille hub. They were routed through a dozen shell corporations, but I wasn't looking at the destination. I was looking at the source of the payment. It was a recurring, automatic transfer from a single, unlikely source: a discreet, ultra-exclusive private medical facility nestled in the mist-shrouded hills overlooking Amaranth.
"The Serenity Peaks Clinic," I read aloud. A wellness retreat for the city's supernatural elite.
Marcus's eyes narrowed, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "Of course," he murmured. "Not a lab. A hunting ground."
It was the perfect front. A place where powerful, rare, and often vulnerable supernatural beings came willingly. A place where a patient could disappear for a "long-term treatment," and no one would ever ask a question. Dr. Ellis wasn't just a ghost. He was the wolf guarding the flock, choosing which sheep to slaughter for his master.