You catch all sorts of whispered gossip as you cross the rooftop garden.
"Camp Scheffler?"
"Gone. That Blue Blood courier had something to do with it."
"I heard the Russians helped the SI burn it down."
"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as Russians."
…
"What about Flagstaff?"
"No one knows. That Degenerate from Mexico City got destroyed. But no one knows if it was the SI or…"
The rooftop is in constant motion as vampires, ghouls, and blood dolls swirl around each other or head up from or down to the dance floor. You make just enough conversation to avoid suspicion, then get down to Sherlock Holmes business, looking for hiding spots, mysterious stains (blood isn't suspicious, but ink can be), or odd damage to the structure.
You spend over an hour hunting for clues without success. You just can't see anything out of the ordinary up here, and you need to stop before you irritate the local Camarilla.
There's a ripple of excitement from the Kindred when Alexander appears and speaks with Dove. Rumor has it that Lettow will appear soon.
Everyone ends up waiting another hour for Lettow to appear.
There's a flutter of nervous excitement as someone else appears at the steps, but it's just Dove, carrying a blood-dotted backpack.
"Who still has a phone?" she says. "I said, who still has a phone!"
A few people hold up their flip phones. Someone has a Samsung Galaxy.
"Throw 'em out," Dove says. "We're done with phones. That's how they tracked our last couriers. Our tricks don't work anymore."
She starts working through the crowd. You're in the back.
"This is security theater bullshit," you tell Dove.
Dove settles a gnarled hand on your shoulder. "I promise you," she says, "that I will never, ever care about your opinion."
You toss your flip phone into the backpack.
Once all the phones are collected, Prince Lettow finally ascends to the rooftop Elysium. Despite the aura of fear that pervades the Viper, the Prince is immaculate. He strides confidently past you, not even looking your way. He wears a white cotton suit, his unruly blond hair pulled back by a black ribbon. Two armadillos follow him as he works the crowd, reassuring people as well as he can.
Then he spends a few minutes talking to Dove. His eyes are fixed on the eastern horizon, though Dove looks west, toward the highway. He finally notices you. His gray eyes are calm and steady; it's like none of the worry that pervades Tucson is allowed to touch its Prince.
"Come with me, Krarr," he says. "We have to discuss Julian Sim."
Next
It's not like any muscle shows up to move you along. Lettow doesn't need it. He just waves you through the glass box overlooking the dance floor to a short hallway lined with iron gates. A gate opens, and Alexander steps through. He bows to the Prince.
"Sir, one of the security staff has absconded with a blueprint of the Viper," he says.
"Of course," Lettow says, his eyes narrowing in anger. "It wasn't that new Aesthete or the mortals dealing painkillers downstairs. Send my predecessor's childer to investigate his apartment before dawn. We may still catch our spy. Right now I must speak to Krarr."
The hallway ends in double doors that open on the Eagle Prince's private office.
"Make yourself comfortable," Lettow says, gesturing to a selection of overstuffed armchairs and settling behind a heavy oak desk.
This place is a hall of memories and mementos: paintings, photos, old weapons, strange treasures, many of them of great antiquity and beauty. You see a tapestry labeled The Lampago, books in several languages, trinkets of all kinds.