"What can I do for you, officer?"
I opened my mouth to reply, but Azriel beat me to it. Perhaps he thought politeness wasn't in my current repertoire given my sudden bout of grouchiness. And to be honest, he might have been right.
"We believe you picked up a woman in Gable Street a day or so ago. Can you remember where you took her?"
He frowned. "Listen, I get a lot of passengers—"
"This woman was regal-looking, with silver hair, a thin face, and a hooked nose," I interrupted. "She might have appeared high on something."
He grunted. "Yeah, I remember that one. She smelled funny—like old paper. I dropped her at some abandoned industrial building in Brooklyn. I did ask her if she had the right address, being a woman and alone and all, because it wasn't a nice-looking place." He looked suddenly worried. "Has something happened to her?"
"No," Azriel said, in a reassuring voice. "We simply need to talk to her. Can you give us the address where you left her?"
"It was Cawley Road. I don't know the actual number, but the place had a stack of old shipping containers on the premises. You can't miss it."
"Thank you very much for your assistance, Mr. Tan."
"My pleasure," he said, and then the screen went blank.
Francis swiveled in her chair and gave Azriel a somewhat sultry look. "Anything else I can do for you, officer?"
I rolled my eyes and left him to it. I gave the woman at the desk a nod of thanks, but she was paying as little attention to me as the woman in the control room had. Which I could totally understand, but it still rankled.
I waited outside in the cool air, and Azriel appeared a few minutes later.
"So," I muttered, "you all set for later tonight?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I do not understand what you mean."