by Gregg Taylor
He whimpered. I moved my head just enough to indicate that I was talking to Claire and not him.
“What do you think?” I asked her.
“Do I think you should-”
“No, I’ll make the call on who I shoot all by myself, thanks. I was asking about breakfast. Are you hungry?”
“Famished. Is there any other compelling reason why we should attend?”
“I doubt they intended to give us much of a choice,” I said and turned back to the kid. “Who paid you?” I demanded.
“What?” he said.
“Son, you really need to work on your attention span. Someone gave you five hundred credits to sell out one of your guests and then carry a message. Who was it?”
“He... he didn’t leave his name.”
“I didn’t think he would. What did he look like?”
“He was a dark-haired man in a black jacket.”
“A windbreaker?”
“I don’t know... sure, I guess so.”
“Did he leave?”
“Yes,” the kid answered. I kicked him again, harder this time.
“You were doing so well, too,” I said. “Then you had to go and piss me off. They asked if there was any way out of here besides the main doors. Are they in the lobby or out front?”
“They’re out front.” He blubbered all over again. “In a black Hov. Waiting.”
“They going to kill us or follow us?” I asked.
“They didn’t say.”
“Nice.” I turned back to Claire. “There it is. Looks like we weren’t meant to have much choice. They’d rather not take us in the hotel, or even on the street in daylight. But they’re not going to let us get away either.”
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“Well, first we do this,” I said, bringing the butt of my gun down against the kid’s head as hard as I could. He fell forward. I dragged his face out of the puddle of water on the floor of the stall and turned it sideways so he wouldn’t drown.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Because the only alternative was to kill him, and I didn’t feel like it. He’ll be out for a good while, and he’ll never talk about what happened because what he did is more than enough to get him black-balled from every hotel in Bountiful. The Ironwood would probably sue him too.”
“You don’t really have to justify not killing him to me.”
“Oh,” I said, a little surprised.
“Now what?”
I pushed past her and started throwing the rest of my clothes on.
“Get dressed,” I said. “Whatever you’ve got that you can travel fast in. And the most practical shoes you brought.”
“Should I pack?” she asked.
“Do you want to carry your luggage if we need to run for our lives?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Then don’t pack. Wear layers. We might not get back here for a couple of days.”
“But we are coming back?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Bring your travel papers. Don’t leave anything you absolutely can’t live without.”
I was more or less dressed now, beyond the shoulder holster which I was pulling on. I tucked the GAT away, put on my coat and allowed myself the luxury of watching her dress. Her hands were shaking as she rifled through the bag, and she seemed almost to have forgotten that she was naked. She didn’t notice me again until she had covered the most interesting parts. Then I put on my hat and made for the window.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I opened it as wide as I could.
“I’ll meet you out front,” I said, and punched out the screen.
“We’re on the seventh floor,” she protested.
“Yes,” I said, swinging my legs out the window.
“What if you fall?” she asked.
“I’ll meet you out front,” I said. “Give me ten minutes.” And shimmied out the window.
Climbing down was a pain in the ass, but the expression on her face was worth every second of it.
SEVENTEEN
Fourteen minutes later she finally stepped out of the lobby doors. She looked casual, sporty even. She had on an oversized pair of sunglasses that I didn’t really like, as they made her look slightly like a celebrity which we did not need, but other than that she looked damned good.
I was in front of the hotel, sitting behind the wheel of a sporty black Hov. I couldn’t be absolutely sure, but it looked exactly like the one that had pulled away and headed in the opposite direction when I had left the hotel the night before. I did not dwell upon this point, as it made no sense to me at all.
“Put these on,” I said, handing her a pair of black leather gloves through the open passenger window.
“Where did you get this car?” she asked.
“Put those gloves on.”
“They’re too big.”
“Put them on and then get in.”
She did as she was told. “Where did you get this car?” she asked again.
“Try not to be obtuse,” I said as politely as I could.
“Do I want to know whose gloves these are?” she asked.
“If you don’t, I don’t suggest you look in the back seat.”
“He’s in the back seat?” she hissed.
“They’re in the back seat,” I corrected. “Two of them. Black Windbreaker and another one I didn’t recognize. I took their gloves in case one of them isn’t a Shade. No sense leaving prints behind.”
“Oh my God,” she whimpered. “You killed them?”
“No, they fainted from the shock when I came up from behind. Of course I killed them.” Traffic was light. We would make the restaurant pretty quickly, and it would be nice if we could get on the same page before we arrived. “You seemed pretty excited by the idea last night when you decided I’d killed Monarch. Very excited in fact.”
“I didn’t have to ride in the car with Monarch,” she said, looking a little sick. “Where are we going?”
“There are two options,” I said. “We go to Kemble’s or we go anywhere else on Earth except Kemble’s. I’m up for either, but we should probably decide fast.”
“Why in the name of God would we deliver ourselves to the Locust?”
“Because it may be our one opportunity to take him by surprise. He thinks we’ve got two of his boys on our tail. He might expect them to frog-march us into the restaurant. He certainly doesn’t know that they’re dead, but he will soon if he doesn’t hear from them. Then we lose the advantage.”
“What exactly are we after here?” Claire asked me seriously. She seemed a little panicked.
“All we’ve been able to do so far is guess at what Carter is after, and what he’s willing to do for it. We can keep guessing if you’d like. We’re probably not far off. You’re the client and we’ll play this however you want. But we might never get this close to Cyrus Carter again.”
“Are you going to kill him?” she asked.
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know any more.”
“If there’s a deal to be made here, you know what my advice is?”
“What’s that?”
“Take it,” I said.
“How can you say that?” She was horrified. “This man murdered my father.”
“Yes,” I said, pulling onto the Avenue of Martyrs.
“Then how can you ask me to make a deal with him?”
“I’m not asking you to do anything except consider the possibility that sometimes losing is better than dying. If you decide otherwise I’ll do everything I can for you. But I’d just as soon you lived, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
She watched me drive in silence for a moment. “That was flowers and candy from you, wasn’t it?” she said at last.
“I begin to suspect so, yes,” I replied, slowing down as we approached Ivory Lane. “Last chance. Once we stop it won’t take long for someone to spot the boys in the back, and we can’t be anyw
here near this Hov when that happens.”
She took a deep breath. “Let’s go have breakfast,” she said.
EIGHTEEN
Kemble’s looked very expensive indeed. There was a lot of red velvet everywhere. Everything that wasn’t velvet was leather. The place was bigger than it looked from the outside and I was deeply appalled to find that it was entirely empty. I suppose that’s the sort of thing that you can arrange when you are one of the richest, most ruthless men in the world.
A girl of about twenty-two approached us, forcing a tight smile. She was well-dressed in the manner that tight-bodied young actresses who haven’t yet turned to prostitution are often well-dressed when they bring you food and drink. She was scared, but she picked up two menus and nodded to us. She seemed at a loss for words for a moment, then whispered something that might have been, “Right this way.” We followed her up the steps into the dining room.
At the far end of the restaurant, surrounded by empty tables on either side, was a very large man in a very white suit. We took three steps toward his table and almost ran into the burly man in the brown sweater who had met us at the shuttle pad. Our eyes locked, but he was impossible to read. There was no challenge, no intimidation, no nothing. Maybe that’s the way it was when you were a Shade, but I wouldn’t have thought so.
He looked past us to the front door, which resolutely refused to open and admit the shambling corpses of Black Windbreaker and his associate, for whom I had not been acquainted with long enough to devise a cute nickname.
Brown Sweater looked back at me with the same blank expression, as if he were waiting for something. He glanced at Claire, then back to me. The little girl with the carefully braided ponytail and the starched white shirt struggling to contain the assets which had somehow yet to make her a star gave a polite little clearing of the throat. Brown Sweater looked at me again with his blank eyes and nodded, stepping out of the way. He didn’t even pat me down. Maybe there was a deal to be had here.
“This was a bad idea,” Claire whispered as we walked.
“I mentioned that I’m broke, right?” I whispered back.
Cyrus Carter did not stand as we approached, but he did spread his arms wide in a magnanimous gesture of welcome. There was a plate of fruit before him, which I suspected from the size of him was likely a second breakfast to cleanse the palate after something more substantial.
“Ah. Miss Marsland, is it?” the Locust said with a beneficent smile. “How wonderful that we should meet at last. I am Cyrus Carter. Won’t you please join me?”
Claire said nothing. She seemed frozen. She still had the Monitor in her pocket and I prayed she didn’t do anything stupid. By unofficial count, Carter still had three boys, and I could only account for one.
Another girl, much like the first one but with smaller breasts and lighter hair, approached an empty place setting in front of Claire and looked at her. Claire didn’t seem to see her, so the girl began to fill her cup with coffee awkwardly. She looked to me, then back to Mister Carter, whom she would have to walk in front of in order to reach what was clearly meant to be my cup.
“Just leave the carafe, angel,” I said, letting her off the hook. “It’s been a long night.”
The girl gave me a look of gratitude that I would likely never have a chance to parlay as nature would intend that I should, and fled.
“Mister Carter,” Claire said, finding the beginnings of her voice at last, “this is Mister Finn. He represents me in this matter.”
The Locust looked at me. He seemed genuinely amused. “Yes. We are acquainted with Mister Finn. Please, sir. Sit. You were expected.”
Claire looked at me. I sat, and then she sat. I poured as much coffee as I could manage into the cup, and then immediately into me. I may have smiled in spite of myself. If Carter was going to ply me with coffee that good, it might be difficult to present a properly hard-boiled aspect. I filled the cup again.
Carter was still smiling at me. Jesus, he must have been pissed off. I wondered if I’d shot his dog when I killed his lieutenant.
“But where are my manners?” he said and snapped his fingers. The rest of the restaurant staff stepped forward with bread and juice and a basket of those little jam packages and most importantly a large plate of hot food for each of us. I immediately became aware of the fact that I had not eaten a thing in a very long time.
On my plate there sat a helping of steak and eggs. The sort of steak and eggs one hopes for but one never gets. It looked to be a modest-sized strip loin, about an inch thick, with three eggs, scrambled, nestled in beside it soaking up the juices that still seeped from the perfectly grilled beef. There were also some potatoes that looked crisp and some dark rye toast. I muttered a silent prayer that we wouldn’t have to run for our lives for a few minutes at least and began eating.
“Miss Marsland,” Carter’s voice boomed even when he was being quiet, “I hope that you do not object to Eggs Florentine?”
Claire said that they looked fine.
“I took the liberty of ordering so that we might avoid the awkward period of waiting, but I did not know if you might be a... vegetarian.” Carter put just a touch of loathing on the word “vegetarian”, which won him some points with me.
Claire said that she wasn’t a vegetarian.
Carter now seemed concerned. “We can certainly order you something of more substance, if it would please you.” I thought of recommending the steak and eggs, but my mouth was full and no one seemed to care very much what I thought.
Claire said it was very nice, but she just wasn’t very hungry. Cyrus Carter nodded as if he understood.
No one bothered to ask how my steak and eggs were, but they were damned good. The steak was done perfectly – just that hint about the edges that it had been burned, but pink and perfect on the inside until one reached the very, very center, which was as red and raw as if the poor bastard were still standing in a field. It was glorious. The eggs were good too. I ate them at the same time because they would have been very disappointing if I’d left them until after the steak. I was hopeful of getting to the potatoes and toast next, but I wasn’t sure that the meeting was going to run that long, and a fella has to prioritize.
I glanced at Claire. She looked pale but seemed fine. I looked at the Locust. He only had eyes for her. I couldn’t see Brown Sweater so I assumed he was back by the door. I reached for my coffee. I could see in the back, by the fire exit, there was a man with a flat nose who nodded at me. They were a friendly bunch.
Given that someone had to be in the kitchen marshaling the staff, that meant that, front door or back door, I would only need to shoot my way through one man to get Claire to the street. Cake. I went back to eating… which isn’t entirely correct since I had never actually stopped.
Carter spoke. It was his party. “I must say, my dear Miss Marsland, that you have led us on a merry chase.”
“I had no idea,” she said quietly.
Carter shook his head and ate a piece of melon. “That is at least somewhat beside the point, young lady. You have inconvenienced me.”
Claire didn’t have anything to say to that, so the Locust continued.
“I, or at least, gentlemen acting on my behalf, were finally able to come to an agreement with the late Viktor Marsland. Late in the process, regrettably. People have a habit of hanging on to these outdated notions of pride... valor... personal honor in the face of adversity. Marsland sacrificed himself for the Omniframe. I doubt very much that Omniframe would have returned the favor.”
He smiled and cocked his head to one side as he watched Claire. He seemed to be looking for a reaction. She gave him none. I was impressed. I waited for any sign that she might want me to step in and take some of the heat, but she didn’t so much as glance my way. The very centre of my steak was quite bloody indeed. You rarely get a piece of meat cooked that perfectly unless you insist upon it. I ate two of the potatoes, just to say that I did.
“Marsland had made his ar
rangements some time earlier,” Locust carried on, popping grapes in his mouth at regular intervals as he spoke. “His creation was too perfect. Too difficult to defend against. He knew that when his colleagues at Internal were finished testing his code, they may well destroy it, and him too.” Locust paused and considered a piece of melon. “After much persuasion, he revealed to me that there were two fully functional copies of E2-476 in existence. One was under lock and key within the bowels of Omniframe Internal Security, inaccessible even to me. There its functionality could be tested within controlled limits by a carefully selected team of the Omniframe’s most loyal servants.” Here Carter paused to beam his warmest smile, which looked like a lizard baring his teeth. “The second he sent to a delivery sub-station halfway across the civilized world to be held indefinitely for pick-up. Sadly, the effort it took to persuade him to reveal this much was too great. We suspected the station was in Bountiful, but which one of a thousand? And what was the key?”
“Is there any chance that we can cut to the chase on this?” Claire asked, sounding more resigned than I normally like to hear while in a room full of guns.
The Locust seemed to ignore her though his eyes were alight with a fire that burned for Claire Marsland alone. He was enormous, but there was clearly strength within that frame. He had every luxury, every advantage and while it may have made him soft, it had not slaked his lust for more. There was no telling what a man like this might do, or why.
“It took some time,” he continued, “and some subtlety. But in time we came to an understanding with Katryn Marsland.”
This was interesting. The little sister was real after all. Carter continued.
“It took some time to be able to approach her. Her father’s autopsy was... softened somewhat. I am not without influence. The matter was classified as an accident without the need for an inquest. But still the forces of Internal Security were not easily satisfied. In time, they relaxed their vigilance with Marsland’s family and allowed his personal effects to be released. Katryn was of a more accommodating nature than yourself. There was little love lost between Marsland and herself, and she was wise enough to recognize an opportunity when it knocked on her door. She was all too willing to hand her father’s personal effects over to us, no questions asked. Imagine our surprise when they never came.”