by Mark Lingane
"Levi."
"He said that?" She laughed lightly. "I'm amazed you got him to talk. He's a tough guy."
"Yeah." I nodded at the recollection of his right hook.
"I'm a free robin, sitting on a branch until I get bored." She made a small flapping motion as though flying toward the window. She watched her own hand, mesmerized by it, then quietly folded it on her stomach. She looked down for a moment.
"I'd been trying to get out for ages," she said. "I met Hugh, and he seemed like someone with the confidence to get me out. It never occurred to me that he was a plant."
"What?"
"They were trying to trap me, prove that I wanted to sell them out. I wasn't. But then Hugh stole something of significance to Levi and his thugs, and they went all out to get him."
"Why are you so important?"
And that little hesitation let me know there was something she was hiding. She tried to mask it with her widest, most sinful smile.
"Honey, look at me. How can I not be the most important thing in your life?"
She was a whole bagful of mental delights that could melt your resolve out your ears, and she played harder, quicker and more deviously than a star throwback in the championship league. But she was locking something away with such strength that even my Remington picklock wouldn't have worked on her. Although I was sure she'd want me to try.
I sat back and scratched my chin. I let a few moments tick by, seeing if she'd get uncomfortable. Then I realized this foxy lady could probably lie on a bed of nails and think it was a princess's mattress, whether someone had pea-ed on it or not.
"What happened at 1969?" I said.
"I found out and felt bad for him. I wanted to warn him, but he'd taken off. I had no idea where he'd gone. I found you, but Levi was also looking and he has fingers everywhere. Levi was out when the messenger came with the news that Hugh was at Limbo's. I went there straightaway, but Levi was only a few minutes behind. He found us together and killed the poor guy. One swift motion, straight across the throat. I jumped on Levi and grabbed the knife. He threw me to the floor, but I managed to twist that dagger out of his hands. Then you opened the door."
She paused. A look of concern flashed in those baby-blue cheaters. "I'm sorry."
"What did Hugh say?"
"You know him. You can guess. He was full of his own self-importance, just like the rest of them. He said he had something that would defeat them all. I asked what it was. He said he'd put it somewhere safe, as protection."
"What was he hiding?"
She sighed. "Don't we all have something to hide? Except at this moment there's not a whole lot I'm hiding under this sheet. See?"
She went to whip up the sheet, but I put my hand on it and pushed it down.
"You're pale. You look tired." I got up and made my way to the door.
"Please don't leave. I'll make it worth your while ..." She reached out to me. Her smoky eyes filled in the rest of the sentence--all the prose required to fill the top five erotic bestsellers.
"We need supplies."
"You mean food?" Her eyes lit up. "I haven't eaten in days."
"Sure." I gave her a smile and flipped opened the door. A woman was standing there poised to knock.
16
Laura gasped in surprise. The light from the desk lamp shone out into the corridor, casting her seductive silhouette onto the opposite wall.
"Van! How did you know I was here?"
She was dolled up as high as a skyscraper, looking like she'd stolen all the credits from the city bank. The soft light made her glow. Her features were flawless, highlighted by her elegance.
"Are you going to invite me in?" she said, after an embarrassing amount of time had passed without me giving any sign of being conscious, or even alive. "Or how about breathing or blinking?"
The reality of the location and the occupant behind me socked me in the face.
"What's the matter?" Laura asked.
Mina coughed.
Laura's face morphed into excitement. "Have you got a friend here? I'd like to meet one of your friends."
She pushed past me as I struggled for an explanation. The first thing she saw was Mina lying on the stretcher, showing way too much skin, and a hint of the high-end secrets Laura could only dream of on standard police salary.
"Who is she?" they both said at the same time.
"She's a client," I responded. "And a friend." I let them decide which one was which.
"A client?" Mina said. "I'd better be more than that."
"She's here, lying low," I said.
Mina let out a low, seductive laugh.
"That's not helping," I said.
"She's in your bed," Laura said. "And she's not wearing any clothes."
"It's not how it appears."
"You said you'd take me to dinner." Laura stood with her hands on her hips. "I was told you were a man of your word."
"You promised me food," Mina said.
Laura turned to leave. I grabbed her and pleaded with her not to go.
"Please," I said.
She hesitated at the door. The look she was giving me was none too pleasant.
"Honey, we've got to eat something," Mina said, "and you've got nothing here except cheap booze and no space."
"Fine," I said. "We all go."
"All of us," Laura said. "To dinner?"
"I'm injured and physical activity is too taxing for me," Mina said.
I looked at her. "What about a few minutes ago?"
She had the decency to look flustered.
"A few minutes ago what?" Laura said.
"It's not important." I looked at both of them.
"What do you mean it's not important?" Mina said. "Hey, where are you going, sunshine?"
"To get your clothes."
I left them together in the room, hoping at least one would be gone by the time I returned. No such luck. Mina was strutting around in her secrets, showing no embarrassment. I ironed Mina's dress while Laura stood awkwardly, having trouble deciding where to look. In the end she just stared out the window. I saw her watching Mina's reflection, which probably didn't help.
Once Mina was suitably clothed, and Laura's ears were glowing pink, we all went out into the moderately cooler night air.
"Are you sure?" I said.
The door swung in on Jimmy's. It was on the down side of the Turnstile, but it was good enough in its own way--clean and stripped back to the essential elements of service, but food was food.
"No, we didn't hear anything. Stop asking," Laura said. She glanced inside. "Are you sure this is the right place?"
"You and flapping birds," Mina said. "It's a city. There are no great flapping birds." She looked around the cafe with a look of distaste. "Are places like this allowed to sell food? Jeez, Van, you really know how to spoil a lady. I actually feel sorry for Laura."
"I don't need your pity," Laura said.
"Looking at you, you're going to need someone's pity to get attention."
"Stop it." I glared at both of them before selecting a table.
"There's no bar," Mina said. "How am I meant to enjoy myself?"
"I'm sure you'll find a way," Laura said. "Maybe a pole instead."
"Have you got something against fun?"
"No. In fact, I'm going to make the best of the situation. I'll buy the first round of drinks. I'm assuming you'll drink anything. Van, what would you like?"
Mina looked shocked. "You buy your own drinks?"
"Don't you?"
"I've never paid for one yet."
"That says more about you than you realize."
The two women sat down across from each other. Laura glared. Mina looked indifferent. The silence was electric--dark and dangerous. I sat in the middle, looking from one to the other, my spirits dejected. To distract myself I reflected on Angelina's crazy ramblings, and how they could possibly tie into the bizarre events I'd seen recently. Maybe I'd been sucking too hard on the stupid juice.
I looked into her eyes. "Do you believe in the paranormal? Ghosts, spirits, ghouls, elves ... vampires?"
She laughed. Then she saw my expression. "No. Although strictly speaking, an elf is mythical rather than paranormal. But you can't believe in them."
Mina pitched in. "You have to believe in something." She looked at me. "Right, honey?"
"People are always saying they see ghosts," Laura said. "And there's always stuff we don't understand. So if there are ghosts, why not vampires? They say belief is good for children's imaginations."
"It's not a belief," I said. "It's facts."
"Don't make fun of him," Mina said.
"He's not serious," Laura replied. "His head's probably out of shape after the excitement of the day."
"At least it's got a shape."
Laura narrowed her eyes at Mina. "What are you implying?"
I leaned forward and put my head in my hands.
Mina squared her shoulders and brought out her big guns. She gave me a dismissive glance. "You've got no shape--"
"Calm down," I said calmly. It didn't work.
Mina leaned forward and glared at Laura. "Are you sure you're a girl?"
"It's better than being fa--"
"That's it!" I got up and made my way over to the restrooms. They both watched me go.
"What were you going to call me?" I heard Mina hiss at Laura.
"Well--"
That was all I heard as the door mercifully closed behind me, shutting out the aggravation. The room was cool and starkly white. Its cleanliness, simplicity and peace provided an oasis in the unpredictable maelstrom of warring women. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my nerves. The bright strip lighting reflected off the tiles, bouncing around me in my contemplative solitude. There were a couple of cubicles, matching sinks, and a small window on the other side of the room that opened onto a quiet and dark street. A fine mesh covered the glass. I wondered if it was to keep people in or out.
I ran the taps, enjoying the sound of the babbling stream. My hands were shaking and my nerves were on edge. I splashed the water over my face, taking a moment to stabilize my thoughts. The cool water ran down from my eyes. I looked in the mirror.
Levi was standing behind me in the reflection.
I blinked my eyes and turned around. There was nothing there. I shook my head. The small room was empty, the pristine tiles still reflecting bright light into an empty room.
I checked the cubicles; each was empty and partly disgusting. You'd think humans would have got the hang of shooting straight by now. The lights above flickered. I closed the door of the last cubicle after giving it a flush, and sighed. I was afraid my mind was beginning to slip, seriously. I leaned back against the wall.
Levi was standing in front of me.
The lights went out.
A voice danced in the darkness. "Where is it?"
17
The first punch came from the left, predictably. I managed to avoid the bulk of it, but it still knocked me reeling across the small room into the wall, cracking the tiles. Shards fell to the floor.
"Where's the rood?" The voice bounced around me, like it was coming from the walls themselves.
He pulled me back across the room and smashed me into the mirror. It shattered and crashed down into the sink. Light leaking in under the door and from the streetlight outside reflected off the broken glass, highlighting a large triangular shard. I grabbed it and swung my arm around in a wide arc. The end of the glass speared into Levi's shoulder.
He remained silent as he pulled it out and threw it to the floor. I could see the anger in his face. He threw a bunch of hamfisted blows in wide from each side, all easy to block. A blow came in from the right and I caught it under my arm. I brought in a roundhouse swing, landing it on his jaw. I unleashed a couple more, driving him to his knees.
He twisted free and gave me a strange look. Almost like fear. The room felt real small in that moment, or I felt real big in it, like the transcontinental smashing into the thirty-five.
I picked him up by the collar and threw him into a cubicle. Porcelain shattered and water sprayed everywhere, rushing over the floor. I glared at him. In the low light he seemed to glow; it was child's play to pick him out. I wrenched him up off the floor and sent him sprawling across the room, crashing into the far wall. His head cracked against the tiles, leaving a crater in the wall. He slumped to the floor.
The room was quiet. The lights came on. The place was empty. I sagged against the wall. The restroom was a mess, and Levi was gone.
I staggered out. Another guy entering gave me a stunned look.
"Give it ten," I told him.
I limped over to the table. Laura was laughing and Mina was talking, waving her hands around. The table had a large collection of small, empty glasses huddled in the center, some with the remnants of thick, sweet spirits of varying colors. Both women's eyes held a distant disconnect.
"What happened to you?" Mina said. "Do you need more fiber in your diet?"
They looked at each other with a knowing look and laughed in unison. Or was it a giggle? Whichever, it seemed inappropriate.
"This place isn't my scene. Take me to the Stylus," Mina said.
"I know a great couple of places to go on the way over there," Laura said. "Small, low key, great bands."
I sighed. It was going to be a long night.
It was close to two-thirty. The two women, looking the worse for wear, staggered out into the street, singing loudly. They tottered along the sidewalk arm in arm. I longed for the Stylus. At least there'd be someone there I could talk to, and who would listen. I herded them away from the roadside, keeping them from catapulting themselves into the traffic.
I was trying to keep Laura from climbing a bus stop, and holding Mina up so she didn't collapse with laughter, and I didn't hear the footsteps. Some snatcher ran up and before I could grab him he had knocked Mina into the trashcans. Laura was still giggling as she slid down the pole, but Mina was quiet.
I ran over. She was staring up at me, holding her stomach. She raised her hands; they were covered in blood. A knife wound sliced across her stomach, and it looked deep.
"We have to get her to a hospital," Laura cried when she saw the wound.
"No," Mina gasped.
"Laura's right," I told her. "You have to go to the hospital."
She shook her head. "They'll find me."
Laura knelt down beside Mina and examined the cut. "Can we take her to your place?"
"I don't have medical supplies," I said.
Laura thought for a moment. "I've got first-aid supplies at home from a work course. They're pretty basic but they're better than nothing."
Mina raised her hand and placed it against Laura's face. "You're a good girl, honey. It's been a pleasure to meet you." She closed her eyes and drifted off into unconsciousness.
"This is becoming a habit," I said, lifting her up and cradling her in my arms. She felt lighter than before, like a ghost hanging onto its body.
We made our way back to Laura's place. The haunting image of the assailant was lodged in my mind. I'd swear to a preacher that it was Phoenix.
I followed Laura into a small room with a single bed covered in her clothes. I was surprised. I thought she would be neater. She wiped her arms over the bed, knocking the clothes to the floor.
"I tried on several outfits before I came out," she said sheepishly.
She ran out to get the first-aid kit, leaving me alone with Mina for a few moments. In her state of unconsciousness, she looked angelic. Golden curls rolled around her slender face. Her skin was perfection; there wasn't one blemish. Her features were calm.
Laura reappeared with an armful of medical supplies. She cut through the silky material of Mina's dress and peeled back the folds to reveal the cut. She soaked up the trickling blood with cotton balls. Once the area w
as wiped clean, we could see it was a fairly light cut and not fatal, but it was still deep enough to cause concern.
I left Laura to it and went out into the living room. The sight of Mina's injury had shocked me, more than it should have. My hands were shaking and my head was spinning.
Laura had a nice place. She lived up above Fernando Drive, which edged along the Westlands scarp between the valleys before trailing down into the Basin. The apartment was worth a whole load of candy, but then Daddy Mallory was rich and knew the right people in the right places to get this zip code for a steal. Maybe it wasn't even legal.
Laura had the sleek, squared-off furniture that was all the rage, sliding over the concrete and marble flooring. Designed by some overpriced Italian designer, it was slick, elegant and refined.
I looked out the window. The Basin lights, always in a state of being browned out and dimmed by the high level of diesel pollution, flickered occasionally as politicians demanded more electricity to keep their chardonnay chilled. You could see their constitutional collective trying to lie low behind the Hill. You could see all of the rich diversity of life from here. It was like a secluded hiding spot where you could spy on the depravity of humanity.
Right in the middle of it all, high on the hill, was the Grand Hilltop church, now firmly etched in my memory.
I went out onto the deck overlooking the city to get some air. I took in a couple of lungsful of the clean air rushing in from the desert. The war had taken its toll on outlying areas, forcing us all into this dustbowl of diesel particles and malcontent ideology built around the worst of human distraction.
There were still the occasional scavengers out on the plains, scraping together a subsistence living until the rogue mechwarrior monsters designed by the war geniuses came and ripped them apart. But the air was clean and people could grow fresh food in the small allotment of time life dealt out to them, usually off the bottom of the deck. This was their choice. The uncertainty of daily existence was apparently better than living here in the city. No one made them go, and no one made us stay in this cesspit. From this height I could see the flares from the occasional mechwarrior as it toasted some trapped folk. What had we done to our world? What were we doing to ourselves? My hands were still shaking.