I squeezed my eyes shut and grimaced. “Okay, Chiri, whatever you want. Can you come by the club?”
“The club, you say? You mean, my club? The club I used to own?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Your club.”
She grunted. “Not on your life, you diseased jackass. I’m not setting foot in there unless things change the way I want ‘em. But I’ll meet you somewhere else. I’ll be in Courane’s place in half an hour. That’s not in the Budayeen, honey, but I’m sure you can find it. Show up if you think you can handle it.” There was a sharp click, and then I was listening to the burr of the dial tone.
“Dragged you through it, didn’t she?” said Shaknahyi. He’d enjoyed every moment of my discomfort. I was starting to like the guy, but he was still a bastard sometimes.
I clipped the phone back on my belt. “Ever hear of a bar called Courane’s?”
He snorted. “This Christian chump shows up in the city a few years ago.” He was wheeling the patrol car through Rasmiyya, a neighborhood east of the Budayeen that I’d never been in before. “Guy named Courane. Called himself a poet, but nobody ever saw much proof of that. Somehow he got to be a big hit with the European community. One day he opens what he calls a salon, see. Just a quiet, dark bar where everything’s made out of wicker and glass and stainless steel. Lots of potted plastic plants. Nowadays he ain’t the darling of the brunch crowd anymore, but he still pulls this melancholy expatriate routine. That where you’re gonna meet Chiri?”
I looked at him and shrugged. “It was her choice.” He grinned at me. “Want to attract a lot of attention when you show up?”
I sighed. “Please no,” I muttered. That Jirji, he was some kidder.
6
Twenty minutes later we were in a middle-class district of two-and three-story houses. The streets were broader than in the Budayeen, and the whitewashed buildings had strips of open land around them, planted with small bushes and flowering shrubs. Tall date palms leaned drunkenly along the verges of the pavement. The neighborhood seemed deserted, if only because there were no shouting children wrestling on the sidewalks or chasing each other around the corners of the houses. It was a very settled, very sedate part of town. It was so peaceful, it made me uncomfortable.
“Courane’s is just up here,” said Shaknahyi. He turned onto a poorer street that was little more than an alley. One side was hemmed in by the back walls of the same flat-roofed houses. There were small balconies on the second floor, and bright, lamplit windows obscured by lattices made of narrow wooden strips. On the other side of the alley were boarded-up buildings and a few businesses: a leather-worker’s shop, a bakery, a restaurant that specialized in bean dishes, a bookstall.
There was also Courane’s, out of place in that constricted avenue. The proprietor had set out a few tables, but no one lingered in the white-painted wicker chairs beneath the Cinzano umbrellas. Shaknahyi tapped off the engine, and we got out of the patrol car. I supposed that Chiri hadn’t arrived yet, or that she was waiting for me inside. My stomach hurt.
“Officer Shaknahyi!” A middle-aged man came toward us, a welcoming smile on his face. He was about my height, maybe fifteen or twenty pounds heavier, with receding brown hair brushed straight back. He shook hands with Shaknahyi, then turned to me.
“Sandor,” said Shaknahyi, “this is my partner, Marîd Audran.”
“Glad to meet you,” said Courane.
“May Allah increase your honor,” I said.
Courane’s look was amused. “Right,” he said. “Can I get you boys something to drink?”
I glanced at Shaknahyi. “Are we on duty?” I asked.
“Nah,” he said. I asked for my usual, and Shaknahyi got a soft drink. We followed Courane into his establishment. It was just as I’d pictured it: shiny chrome and glass tables, white wicker chairs, a beautiful antique bar of polished dark wood, chrome ceiling fans, and, as Shaknahyi had mentioned, lots of dusty artificial plants stuck in corners and hanging in baskets from the ceiling.
Chiriga was sitting at a table near the back. “Where you at, Jirji? Marîd?” she said.
“Aw right,” I said. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Never in my life turned one down.” She held up her glass. “Sandy?” Courane nodded and went to make our drinks.
I sat down beside Chiri. “Anyway,” I said uncomfortably, “I want to talk to you about coming to work in the club.”
“Kind of a ballsy thing for you to ask, isn’t it?” Chiri said.
“Hey, look, I told you what the situation was. How much longer you gonna keep this up?”
Chiri gave me a little smile. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m getting a big kick out of it.”
I’d reached my limit. I can only feel so guilty. “Fine,” I said. “Go get another job someplace else. I’m sure a big, strong kafir like you won’t have any trouble at all finding somebody who’s interested.”
Chiri looked hurt. “Okay, Marîd,” she said softly, “let’s stop.” She opened her bag and took out a long white envelope, and pushed it across the table toward me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Yesterday’s take from your goddamn club. You’re supposed to show up around closing time, you know, to count out the register and pay the girls. Or don’t you care?”
“I don’t really care,” I said, peeking at the cash. There was a lot of money in the envelope. “That’s why I want to hire you.”
“To do what?”
I spread my hands. “I want you to keep the girls in line. And I need you to separate the customers from their money. You’re famous for that. Just do exactly what you used to.”
Her brow furrowed. “I used to go home every night with all of this.” She tapped the envelope. “Now I’m just gonna get a few kiam here and there, whatever you decide to spill. I don’t like that.”
Courane arrived with our drinks and I paid for them. “I was gonna offer you a lot more than what the debs and changes get,” I said to Chiri.
“I should hope so.” She nodded her head emphatically. “Bet your ass, honey, you want me to run your club for you, you’re gonna have to pay up front. Business is business, and action is action. I want fifty percent.”
“Making yourself a partner?” I’d expected something like that. Chiri smiled slowly, showing those long, filed canines. She was worth more than fifty percent to me. “All right,” I said.
She looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected me to give in so easily. “Should’ve asked for more,” she said bitterly. “And I don’t want to dance unless I feel like it.”
“Fine.”
“And the name of the club stays ‘Chiriga’s.’”
“All right.”
“And you let me do my own hiring and firing. I don’t want to get stuck with Floor-Show Fanya if she tickles you into giving her a job. Bitch gets so loaded, she throws up on customers.”
“You expect a hell of a lot, Chiri.”
She gave me a wolfish grin. “Paybacks are a bitch, ain’t they?” she said.
Chiri was wringing every last bit of advantage out of this situation. “Okay, you pick your own crew.”
She paused to drink again. “By the way,” she said, “that’s fifty percent of the gross I’m getting, isn’t it?”
Chiri was terrific. “Uh, yeah,” I said, laughing. “Why don’t you let me give you a ride back to the Budayeen? You can start working this afternoon.”
“I already passed by there. I left Indihar in charge.” She noticed that her glass was empty again, and she held it up and waved it at Courane. “Want to play a game, Marîd?” She jerked a thumb toward the back of the bar, where Courane had a Transpex unit.
It’s a game that lets two people with corymbic implants sit across from each other and chip into the machine’s CPU. The first player imagines a bizarre scenario in detail, and it becomes a wholly realistic environment for the second player, who’s scored on how well he adapts—or survives. Then in turn the second pl
ayer does the same for the first.
It’s a great game to bet money on. It scared the hell out of me at first, though, because while you’re playing, you forget it’s only a game. It seems absolutely real. The players exercise almost godlike power on each other. Courane’s model looked old, a version whose safety features could be bypassed by a clever mechanic. There were rumors of people actually having massive strokes and coronaries while they were chipped into a jiggered Transpex.
“Go ahead, Audran,” said Shaknahyi, “let’s see what you got.”
“All right, Chiri,” I said, “let’s play.”
She stood up and walked back to the Transpex booth. I followed her, and both Shaknahyi and Courane came along, too. “Want to bet the other fifty percent of my club?” she said. Her eyes glittered over the rim of her cocktail glass.
“Can’t do that. Papa wouldn’t approve.” I felt pretty confident, because I could read the record of the machine’s previous high games. A perfect Transpex score was 1,000 points, and I averaged in the upper 800s. The top scores on this machine were in the lower 700s. Maybe the scores were low because Courane’s bar didn’t attract many borderline nutso types. Like me. “I’ll bet what’s inside this envelope, though.”
That sounded good to her. “I can cover it,” she said. I didn’t doubt that Chiri could lay her hands on quite a lot of cash when she needed it.
Courane set fresh drinks down for all of us. Shaknahyi dragged a wicker chair near enough to watch the computer-modeled images of the illusions Chiri and I would create. I fed five kiam into the Transpex machine. “You can go first, if you want,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Chiri. “It’s gonna be fun, making you sweat.” She took one of the Transpex’s moddy links and socketed it on her corymbic plug, then touched Player One on the console. I took the second link, murmured “Bismillah,” and chipped in Player Two.
At first there was only a kind of warm, flickering fog, veined with iridescence like shimmery mother-of-pearl. Audran was lost in a cloud, but he didn’t feel anxious about it. It was absolutely silent and still, not even a whisper of breeze. He was aware of a mild scent surrounding him, the fragrance of fresh sea air. Then things began to change.
Now he was floating in the cloud, no longer sitting or standing, but somehow drifting through space easily and peacefully. Audran still wasn’t concerned; it was a perfectly comfortable sensation. Only gradually did the fog begin to dissipate. With a shock Audran realized that he wasn’t floating, but swimming in a warm, sun-dappled sea.
Below him waved long tendrils of algae that clung to hillocks of brightly colored coral. Anemones of many hues and many shapes reached their grasping tentacles toward him, but he cut smartly through the water well out of their reach.
Audran’s eyesight was poor, but his other senses let him know what was happening around him. The smell of the salt air had been replaced by many subtle aromas that he couldn’t name but were all achingly familiar. Sounds came to him, sibilant, rushing noises that echoed in hollow tones.
He was a fish. He felt free and strong, and he was hungry. Audran dived down close to the rolling sea bottom, near the stinging anemones where tiny fishes schooled for protection. He flashed among them, gobbling down mouthfuls of the scarlet and yellow creatures. His hunger was appeased, at least for now. The scent of others of his species wafted by him on the current, and he turned toward its source.
He swam for a long while until he realized that he’d lost the trace. Audran couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered here in the sparkling, sunny sea. He browsed over a gorgeous reef, worrying the delicate featherdusters, sending the scarlet banded shrimps and the porcelain crabs scuttling.
Above him, the ocean darkened. A shadow passed over him, and Audran felt a ripple of alarm. He could not look up, but compression waves told him that something huge was circling nearby. Audran remembered that he was not alone in this ocean: It was now his turn to flee. He darted down over the reef and cut a zigzag path only a few inches above the sandy floor.
The ravenous shadow trailed close behind. Audran looked for somewhere to hide, but there was nothing, no sunken wrecks or rocks or hidden caves. He made a sharp evasive turn and raced back the way he’d come. The thing that stalked him followed lazily, easily.
Suddenly it dived on him, a voracious, mad engine of murder, all dead black eyes and gleaming chrome-steel teeth. Flushed from the sea bottom, Audran knifed up through the green water toward the surface, though he knew there was no shelter there. The great beast raged close behind him. In a froth of boiling sea foam, Audran broke through the waves into the fearfully thin air, and—flew. He glided over the whitecapped water until, at last, he fell back into the welcoming element, exhausted.
And the nightmare creature was there, its ghastly mouth yawning wide to rend him. The daggered jaws closed slowly, victoriously, until for Audran there was only blackness and the knowledge of the agony to come.
“Jeez,” I murmured, when the Transpex returned my consciousness.
“Some game,” said Shaknahyi.
“How’d I do?” asked Chiri. She sounded exhilarated.
“Pretty good,” said Courane. “623. It was a promising scenario, but you never got him to panic.”
“I sure as hell tried,” she said. “I want another drink.” She gave me a quirky grin.
I took out my pill case and swallowed eight Paxium with a mouthful of gin. Maybe as a fish I hadn’t been paralyzed with fear, but I was feeling a strong nervous reaction now. “I want another drink, too,” I said. “I’ll stand a round for everybody.”
“Bigshot,” said Shaknahyi.
Both Chiri and I waited until our heartbeats slowed down to normal. Courane brought a tray with the fresh drinks, and I watched Chiri throw hers down in two long gulps. She was fortifying herself for whatever evil things I was going to do to her mind. She was going to need it.
Chiri touched Player Two on the game’s console, and I saw her eyes slowly close. She looked as if she were napping placidly. That was going to end in a hell of a hurry. On the holoscreen was the same opalescent haze I’d wandered through until Chiri’d decided it was the ocean. I reached out and touched the Player One panel.
Audran gazed down upon the ball of mist, like Allah in the highest of the heavens. He concentrated on building a richly detailed illusion, and he was pleased with his progress. Instead of letting it take on form and reality gradually, Audran loosed an explosion of sensory information. The woman far below was stunned by the purity of color in this world, the clarity of sound, the intensity of the tastes and textures and smells. She cried out and her voice pealed in the cool, clean air like a carillon. She fell to her knees, her eyes shut tightly and her hands over her ears.
Audran was patient. He wanted the woman to explore his creation. He wasn’t going to hide behind a tree, jump out, and frighten her. There was time enough for terror later.
After a while the woman lowered her hands and stood up. She looked around uncertainly. “Marîd?” she called. Once again the sound of her own voice rang with unnatural sharpness. She glanced behind her, toward the misty purple mountains in the west. Then she turned back to the east, toward the shore of a marshy lake that reflected the impossible azure of the sky. Audran didn’t care which direction she chose; it would all be the same in the end.
The woman decided to follow the swampy shoreline to the southeast. She walked for hours, listening to the liquid trilling of songbirds and inhaling the poignant perfume of unknown blossoms. After a while the sun rested on the shoulders of the purple hills behind her, and then slipped away, leaving Audran’s illusion in darkness. He provided a full moon, huge and gleaming silver like a serving platter. The woman grew weary, and at last she decided to lie down in the sweet-smelling grass and sleep.
Audran woke her in the morning with a gentle rain shower. “Marîd?” she cried again. He would not answer her. “How long you gonna leave me here?” She shivered.
The golden sun mounted higher, and while it warmed the morning, the heat never became stifling. Just after noon, when the woman had walked almost halfway around the lake, she came upon a pavilion made of crimson and sapphire-blue silk. “What the hell is all this, Marîd?” the woman shouted. “Just get it over with, all right?”
The woman approached the pavilion anxiously. “Hello?” she called.
A moment later a young woman in a white gown came out of the pavilion. Her feet were bare and her pale blonde hair was thrown carelessly over one shoulder. She was smiling and carrying a wooden tray. “Hungry?” she asked in a friendly voice.
“Yes,” said the woman.
“My name is Maryam. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m sorry, all I’ve got is bread and fresh milk.” She poured from a silver pitcher into a silver goblet.
“Thanks.” The woman ate and drank greedily.
Maryam shaded her eyes with one hand. “Are you going to the fair?”
The woman shook her head. “I don’t know about any fair.”
Maryam laughed. “Everybody goes to the fair. Come on, I’ll take you.”
The woman waited while Maryam disappeared into the pavilion again with the breakfast things. She came back out a moment later. “We’re all set now,” she said gaily. “We can get to know each other while we walk.”
They continued around the lake until the woman saw a scattering of large, peaked tents of striped canvas, all with colorful pennants snapping in the breeze. She heard many people laughing and shouting; and the sound of axes biting wood, and metal ringing on metal. She could smell bread baking, and cinnamon buns, and lamb roasting on spits turning slowly over glowing coals. Her mouth began to water and she felt her excitement growing despite herself.
“I don’t have any money to spend,” she said.
“Money?” Maryam asked, laughing. “What is money?”
The woman spent the afternoon going from tent to tent, seeing the strange exhibits and miraculous entertainments. She sampled exotic foods and drank concoctions of unknown liquors. Now and then she remembered to be afraid. She looked over her shoulder, wondering when the pleasant face of this fantasy would fall away. “Marîd,” she called, “what are you doing?”
Budayeen Nights Page 9