Machia Veil Timeline

12 pm, August 23rd – Club 7 front entrance, Suffox Place, Londoom

Nate was on his way to breakfast when the intercom bell echoed through the Attic.

“Hello?” replied Clarice.

“Good afternoon. This is a search warrant,” said a police officer, holding out an official document up to the camera. Behind him were men in suits.

“Crikey!” she said.

Castar’s mouth dropped open as he beheld Clarice.

“What now?” he said, putting his hand to his chest.

“Hello?” asked the police officer.

“Yes, coming!” she said.

***

Nate followed Clarice as they made their way down the winding path to the sixth floor. Further down to the floor of offices. Their footsteps echoed off the walls, then on to the Mirror restaurant. Descending the stairs, their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as they shuffled through the Court Room, until they reached the main entrance. Nate ascended the steps and made his way to one of the small balconies. This was in case the Sareton family or the Lunaston guests found him. Nate’s eyes widened as the large door opened and a group of officials stepped inside.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Good afternoon,” said Clarice.

“Good afternoon, are you Miss Peppercorn?”

“Yes. How may I help?” she said.

“We have a search warrant for your premises. Not asking. Just informing you before entering,” said the police officer.

“And Andres Castar?” asked another man.

“He’ll be here shortly,” said Clarice, stepping aside as a legion of agents flocked into Club 7 and did a thorough search of the club. Nate returned to his room in the Attic until Clarice came back. The incident had shaken her.

“Well?” asked a sweaty Castar. “You look white, my dear.”

“The agents searched the vases. Under the tables in the restaurant. Above the artwork. Behind the bar. Then, they said they had everything they needed,” she said, catching her breath.

“And what is that?” asked Castar.

“I suspect they were here to build a legal argument against us?” she said.

Nate tried to find out what when Castar’s mobile lit up.

A voice crackled through the phone, reaching Nate’s ears.

“We have evidence of ten types of illegal drugs. Find Finch. Last warning,” a man said.

Castar’s face drained of colour.

Finch again. Who is Finch?