by Jay Smith
"You're in Vegas. I translated your tired-ass message best I could but I've got some question."
"Sure."
"Summarize the situation."
"Before Park died he planned this big trip to Vegas. It turned out to be a weird, planned mystery where I joined an organization called Aeternus. A bunch of rich geeks get together and Live…"
"Yes, Park told me about it a while back. A kind of hunting lodge for rich weirdoes."
"Yeah, but there's a lot more to it. Parker was investigating something here. Do you know what it was?"
"No. Knowing Park and who he was keeping company with before he died I have some ideas. But go on."
"Did you know Carla Gugino was living out here, too?"
"No."
"Well, she was tight with Park for a while. She tried to get her shit straight but – she died sometime in the last couple days."
"How?"
"Don't know. Someone sent me a video of her apartment with her corpse on her bed getting fucked by someone I couldn't see well…"
"Winston, the actual fuck is wrong with you? Are you being straight with me right now?"
"It's why I'm calling. I honestly don't know anyone else I can trust."
I filled her in on the rest. She asked pointed questions, challenged me, and then asked me to hold for a minute while I watched my breakfast chill and the guard enjoyed a nice cup of coffee and chocolate chip pancakes with a ton of whipped cream on top.
"Okay. So Aeternus Enterprises is Hell. Alan Horus is Satan. You've just been recruited into his army. How can I help?"
I explained everything I needed just as a familiar shape entered the diner.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ezrin walked into the coffee shop wearing street clothes. The baristas didn’t notice most of the people who walked into their shop, but all five of them, including the women, took a moment to notice Ezrin. If they had known her, I would have expected the warm, open smile of familiarity, not the slack jaws or bug-eyes. Yes, Ezrin was a striking, curvy young woman and could have been the product of a survey of a thousand young men’s fantasies. She looked like an extra in an Elvis musical with a Dolores Fuller-signature angora vest over a tight, cream-colored blouse, fitted capris and a starburst of thick auburn hair. The black Ray-Bans were a nice Hollywood touch but it reminded me a little of the smiling sun on a box of Raisin Bran. Maybe that was because my breakfast had yet to arrive.
With her signature fluid grace, she bypassed the order counter and sat down across from me. The staff looked disappointed and slowly shuffled back to work cleaning machines in an otherwise empty shop. Ezrin crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms.
I put the phone down in front of me. "Good morning."
"You can’t leave the compound like that."
"Nice look. Did we shift a few centuries and genres into a Rat Pack movie?"
"I am being serious about this. Wandering around is not good for you, not without me."
"I thought I was in charge of this arrangement, Ezrin."
"It’s my job to keep you safe, Winston, and that includes from your own ignorance. There are protocols for leaving the compound. You left without me. Further, I look bad because I’m not watching out for you."
"You weren't in the suite this morning. I had shit to do."
"The message I received had you coming in at noon."
"Message from whom? My text told you the right time."
Ezrin rolled her eyes. "Fucking Huan. Why would she do that?"
"Because she's…"
"A salted cunt."
My food, which had taken its sweet damn time being prepared up to that point, miraculously arrived on the arm of an enthusiastic young man in a green apron, who pushed aside my phone on the table to make room for my plate. His big, dopey smile wasn’t for me. I didn’t exist. "Is there anything I can get for you, miss?"
She didn’t look up. "No."
Green Apron retreated. The sandwich was cold and the bread untoasted. I dropped it back on the plate like a used napkin. "Ezrin, I’m sorry you could have gotten in trouble but…"
Ezrin was up and out of her seat. She took the plate from in front of me, walked it to the front counter and put it down loud enough to break up the huddle that had formed back by the dessert case. "Prepare this again and correctly. It is cold and nasty looking." She turned around and marched back to almost the exact same position she held before I started my sentence.
"Thanks?"
"It’s my job. Now. You cannot make me look bad in-world. I am your security. Do you know how many people know who you are now? People who want you dead?"
"I hope you’re talking about the character ‘me’ because as weird as you people are, I could take that both ways. And what the hell is protocol about going outside for coffee?"
"Do you know how many experience points you get for killing a courtier?"
"Lots?"
"And you sign out as OOC in the Realm Book. You notify your head of security. That’s me. That way no one can interfere with you and I can deal with anyone who tries anyway."
"No one did."
"Because you left before most people wake up and anyone who saw you didn’t know who the fuck you are, yet. I got a text when the first security guard spotted you. Huan probably knows now and maybe even Alan." She shuddered.
"First name basis, huh?"
"Don’t joke. I have a job in this organization. You just wait until word gets out about you and I promise you’ll be begging me to tell you about all the secret nooks and crannies in the compound. Winston, you’re not prepared for what’s about to happen to you."
It struck me how serious everyone in this place was about having fun playing a game. Ezrin tried very hard not to seem frightened by her bosses, but her stillness was practiced and transformed her fear into assertive, deliberate speech.
"Okay, Ezrin." I held up my hands in surrender. "Let me see if I got this right. You’re my slave and bodyguard, but you’re really not. You’re my head of security…my only security far as I know to protect me from what I don’t know. And. If I don’t listen to you, you get in some kind of trouble."
"It’s more than that. I play the role they want and that opens doors. Since Parker left, I don’t have anyone I trust to help me, so you’re it. If I screw this up…" She left red marks on her arm where her fingers pressed deeper into the flesh. "I’ve been in this thing for five years, climbed up from just a member. Please. Don’t make this hard on me."
Her intensity grew as her plump, shiny lips pouted and pursed between statements. Long red nails pushed into her freckled forearms. This really bothered her, but she was trying to get over a swell of anger I didn’t quite understand. But as she waited for me to finish my iced coffee or yell at her or do something, it struck me.
"This is a test for you, isn’t it? You’re supposed to find out what I know about Parker, about this place and why I’m here. That will get you a better role to play than warrior-whore. True?"
She continued. "My job is to educate you and prevent the gamers from making you look stupid or stealing your inventory."
"Bullshit. Don’t tell me they didn’t ask you to spy on me. I’d be disappointed if they didn’t."
"You aren’t that important."
"Alan called to see me personally yesterday. He made a point of making me watch him demean a subordinate to convince me not to fuck with him for whatever reason. He’s paranoid and a little unbalanced. I replaced Parque here in his little inflatable kingdom. That bugs him."
"What do you know?"
"I know Parker almost handed a lot of imaginary money back to Horus by dying. My being here stopped that. Does he think he can buy me off with a girlfriend?"
"I don’t know you. I’m not your girlfriend or your employee."
"Who is? Your employer, I mean."
She paused, and then answered. "Alan. His character owns mine and my contract is with him. I report to Mistress Huan in her role as head of all
servant classes."
"Two people who have every reason to want me gone from this place. I appreciate your honesty."
"Look, you do whatever you want to me back inside. I’ve dealt with worse. But if those two think I can’t get anything out of you or can’t control you then they’ll take me away and that won’t do for either of us."
"Control me?
That earned me the hint of a sneer. "Easy there. You’ve never heard of topping from the bottom?"
"I don’t even know if that’s a gaming term or something you discuss with your…partners or whatever."
"You understand that I am not a callow and spineless child waiting to be led around by your ego to worship your prick."
"The dichotomy of the queen-slave did not escape my notice. Not sure how it works, but then I am new to your strange and exotic shores."
"I control my controllers. They just don’t know it."
"Then…why are you telling me this?"
"I’d like to think you’re just a decent person."
"But you’re under contract, owned by Alan Horus."
"‘gonna have to serve somebody’, the wise, old man once said."
"This queen-slave thing. Was this your role before coming to me or did someone decide it was something I’d best respond to?"
"Can’t it be both? Huan has a good sense of ‘type’ when it comes to pairing up men and partners. When in doubt, though, send in the red head with the big…"
A different green apron approached the table. This time, Ezrin watched him from the time he left the counter, gently placed the plate in front of me, waited for my nod of dismissal and his quick return to the counter. Once satisfied that the bread was toasted and the egg steaming, she sat back in her chair. "Can we be real here for a minute?"
I laughed loud. It felt good.
"Winston…"
She waited for me to get it out of my system. It took a moment.
"Winston…"
"Let’s be real, Olivia. Yes."
"I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. You seem like a nice guy. I see why you and Parker were friends. He did not leave here on good terms, at least not with Alan."
"Why?"
"They clashed a lot toward the end. I don’t know why. He used to get calls from Alan all hours of the night, especially when Alan was back in London."
"Clashed about what?"
"You know they have opposing moral alignments. What do you think?"
"A porn video empire? Saturine Sensations? Sex parties?"
"You saw those?"
"I saw one. I almost missed Park's debut as the Pussy Hunter. So maybe I'm not so sure about his moral alignment."
"He did those with us to keep control of how we were used."
"Used?"
"I don't choose my co-stars. Those low budget videos – they don't care who holds the crop or the whip. They don't care who penetrates us, just that we get slapped around and cream pied. They just care that we beg and cry."
I sat back in my seat. The waitress was coming back with the second attempt at food.
"Is this better," she asked.
Ezrin smiled. "Yes, dear. Thank you so much."
"How did you know where to find me?"
"You’re in Vegas. Everything is monitored. The fourth security guard was reporting you placing an order while I was busy cursing you out and putting on my shoes."
"Were you with that girl from the other night?"
"None of your business."
"Fair enough."
My phone rang.
The name on the display read NADEIM.
"I have to take this."
I walked to the Men's Room and made sure neither Ezrin or the casual spy followed me.
"Nadeim?"
"Yes, who is this, please?"
"It's Winston Casey. What's up?"
After a pause, her tone changed. "Mr. Casey…milord. I'm sorry to call you, sir."
"I didn't expect you knew I was a Lord."
"I was informed of your installation online. Did you call for Lord Parque's assets to be collected and sent away?"
"No. Is that what's happening?"
"I've been terminated from service and police are coming to collect all of Gran- Lord Parque's effects."
"How the fuck does that happen?"
"I do not know. Mr. Gautreaux informed me just now."
"It's what – five o'clock there?"
"Yes, sir. He called me at four to inform me."
I detected nothing suspicious in her attitude, but Nadeim was clever and well-trained. "Where can I reach Jean-Paul?"
~
"I'll call you back." I hung up and found Jean-Paul's number on my recent caller list. I needed him to pick up the phone. After the third ring, I heard that slight skip in the rhythm that meant the call was being transferred and I cursed under my breath as it rang three more time. The fourth ring was interrupted.
"Oui?"
"Jean-Paul Gautreaux. This is Winston Casey…"
"Mr. Casey! How good of you to call. Your lovely friends who married on our island are suing us. We were in the process of contacting you in the hope you might assist us with…"
"Suing you for what?" I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Never mind. I’m sure I’ll get the paperwork eventually."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Casey?"
Was he that thick to not expect a call, or was he under duress?
"What would I have to do to take over the lease on Grant Parker’s bungalow before it expires?"
"That is typically a question for our sales department, but I assume you are taking a particular interest in what is IN that bungalow."
"Yes. Yes I am.
"I see."
"Jean-Paul?"
"I didn't want to leave it in a message, but we were told to clear out everything in Grant's bungalow."
"So I'm told? What's happening?"
"It comes from the owners. The occupant is dead, so the lease is voided. A magistrate issued the order to the hotel this afternoon. I am stalling until tomorrow morning, but the owners want it ready for a new tenant immediately."
I was glad to hear he sounded frustrated because it meant she was trying to help me. "Shit. Can you stall them until I can get there?"
"Tomorrow morning the hotel will begin boxing up everything under police supervision."
It had to be Horus. It wasn't a big mystery, of course.
"This is a problem for me. I seem to have left some of my personal items in the bungalow. Can you see if they are still there?"
After a pause, he replied. "Of course, sir. Could you describe the items you left?"
Good man. "I left a laptop in a silver briefcase. Looks a little beat up. I also left a lot of papers across Mr. Parker's desk in his bedroom."
"Papers, sir?"
"We were collaborating on a project and the hard copies represent proprietary information that he was keeping for me. When we last spoke, I was assured that my personal belongings would remain secure until the end of the month. Now I understand that you've received notice to vacate that property on behalf of the owners. Would you be so kind as to honor your commitment by storing my belongings until I arrive?"
"I see, sir. It –" He went quiet for a moment. "I am sorry, Mr. Casey. It will be difficult to distinguish between your property and Mr. Parker's."
"If it's electronic or paper, it's mine."
"I see." Another pause. "I would hate to accidentally destroy your property. I will set aside the contents of the master bedroom until you arrive, sir. We can go through it together."
"I agree to your terms, sir."
"I thought you might." I detected a smile in his voice.
~
Ezrin ate a piece of my bacon. "Can you tell me about that?"
I wanted to. I really wanted to bring her in to help me. I needed advice. "No. I need to make another call. Your goon over there will make sure I don't get wacked."
"Is that a new cell phone?"
>
"It's a different one. I have three."
"Why three?"
"One has been tapped by your bosses. This one is a clean line. The third lets me talk to the dead."
Ezrin took my last piece of bacon and walked off.
~
"Nadeim," I caught her on the fourth ring, right before voicemail."
"Winston. I was on the phone with Jean-Paul. What is happening?"
"I need you to tell me – are Parker's secrets in his effects there or in Vegas?
"I don't understand."
"Alan Horus thinks they are in Ebetha because I don't have them here. I'm at a loss for where to look."
"Winston, some of it is in the laptop. But most of it is encrypted in his account."
"I can't log into his account."
"No, but you can visit him in Aeternus and search there."
"In Aeternus?"
"Online."
Of course.
~
I told the spook watching over me that I was heading back to the resort. He tried his best to pretend he had no idea what I was on about but waved for the check as soon as I hit the front door.
A half a block down, I passed a Vegas police cruiser on the curb and two officers crossing back from the Peppermint Casino. One of them was Officer Brask from my encounter at the Irish pub.
I tensed up. Did they have something else to lay on me? Were they serving a warrant on my suite? On the hotel?
Brask noticed me and tapped his partner's chest to look my way. They looked upset, not tourist-friendly as they were the other day. There was no way to pretend I didn't see them or avoid them without looking suspicious, so I nodded and closed the gap between us.
"Mr. Casey," Brask called.
I waved back, concealing my worry with the logical mix of surprise and concern at seeing him. "Hey, Officer. Brask, right?"
We met in front of a souvenir shop. Neither man made any aggressive moves, but they still didn't look happy. Brask put a hand on my shoulder – not hard, more like he was making some kind of connection. "We came to see you, sir. You remember me from the other day and my partner Officer Gannon."
I nodded. "Yeah. You found me."
"Your old hotel said you hit it big at the Peppermint so we came up to talk to you. They said you were out."