What did you do?
Follow the guy in the suit
You already had Keys' name, or at least his alias, whereas you knew nothing about who the guy in the suit was. Taking out your grappling hook, you used your powers to mute the sound of it as you grappled up to the roof of the club and began following suit guy from the rooftops.
As he walked, he pulled out a phone and dialed. You focused your hearing on him and listened in on the conversation:
"I've got it," the suited man said. "On the way to the drop off now." He hung up. Well, that was a worthwhile conversation to eavesdrop on, you thought to yourself.
He rounded the corner and hopped into the passenger seat of a dark blue hatchback that had clearly been waiting. Interesting choice for a getaway car, you thought. Still, it's pretty inconspicuous. The engine revved and it drove off, and you began leaping from building to building in order to keep up with it; you could only hope that you were high enough up to avoid detection.
The wind whipping your face and midriff was pleasantly cool in the warm night air, refreshing you after the steamy situation of the club's VIP room. Now you remembered why you'd started doing this job: not for fame, but simply because it felt good - nothing beat the sensation of free-running across rooftops with a goal in mind. Vaulting over a set of pipes, you glanced down and saw the hatchback turning down a street on the opposite side to you. In a single fluid motion, you pulled out your grappling hook as you leaped into the air and fired it; you swung elegantly over to the building opposite without even breaking your stride. You couldn't stop a grin from spreading across your face.
Almost as soon as the chase had started, it stopped. The car pulled into a sidestreet, and the guy in the suit got out. You slowed, flushed from the exercise, and wiped the sweat from your forehead as you watched him enter a Japanese takeaway. The suited man left five minutes later, phone already next to his ear. "It's ready for collection."
Sitting down on the edge of the roof, you settled in for a wait.
*
From the looks of it, the takeaway place wasn't very popular; over the next half-hour, only five people entered, and they all looked pretty down on their luck. Clearly the place is only a front and isn't making a big effort to make any decent food.
However, the sixth client stuck out like a sore thumb. A tall, wiry man in a suit with slicked-back blond hair and a 5 o'clock shadow entered, and left after no more than a minute with a paper takeaway bag. The bag looked exactly the right size for the case you'd seen earlier.