I'm not going to argue politics," Dove says. "There's work to do."
"Catching spies?" you ask.
This might be a perfect opportunity to spy for Julian. Or to exploit this situation to your own advantage.
"You're looking for anything out of the ordinary, and hopefully not fucking it up," Dove says. This order obviously came from Lettow. "We're desperate for anyone we can get. You're a fresh set of eyes. Use them, and don't make any mistakes, or we'll all be on the road to Seattle this time next month."
Dove just laughs. "Let's hope not," she says. "When Prince Cross up there realizes that we're not sending blood from Camp Scheffler north, he's going to be mad. So if we have to run, I'm running to San Francisco. I hear it's nice. But I'm not running anywhere. Find the spy, Krarr."
There are only a few dozen people up here in the Elysium, but the Viper sprawls like a medieval castle, and even with the mood subdued there are hundreds of people downstairs. You wonder how to approach this investigation and how you can exploit any information you find.
One thing is for sure: the SI is getting dangerous. If you don't find any clues, the spy will escape with information about the local Kindred—including you. Letting that information leave the Viper is a clear violation of the Masquerade.
You tell Dove what you know about Nadia, Julian's contact. Her skull-like face manages to become even more hideous as she scowls.
"I'll be right back."
There's some kind of disturbance downstairs, but by the time you get to the glass observation box looking down on the dance floor, it's over. Dove returns, gives you a brief, pleased nod, and keeps moving.
You don't see what happened to Nadia.
Fledgling and neonate Kindred circulate along the walls. Though not allowed to feed here, they congregate at the edge of the dance floor to exchange gossip.
"Has anyone heard about what happened in Phoenix? I've got a friend there."
"It's bad. The government is starting a renovation. Big windows, no more underground tunnels."
"So they're fucked?"
"They're all fucked. But then again, who isn't?"
"And has anyone heard from Dallas?"
"Just what you see on the news. All the house fires." It's quiet for the Viper, but that still means the dance floor is a cacophony of industrial beats and thrashing limbs. You edge around the dancers and try to push past the mood of vague worry to find something interesting.
You try to get a feel for the Viper, but the place is enormous. You end up following a few false leads: bad moods, frayed tempers, and anxious looks lead you to investigate fights, breakups, and a couple low-level hustlers. You keep searching for anything weird, anything that smells like "conspiracy," but you get nowhere. You force yourself to give up before you waste the rest of the night.
It's the hour when nightclubs get a little crazy. Dove and Carlos deal with a few mundane crises, then watch the streets from the rooftop, their expressions bleak. Whoever was supposed to arrive tonight isn't coming.