"Yeah, sure...” she said.
I picked up my bundles and started past her. She reached to touch my arm.
"I know I just saw something happen here..."
I smiled and said, “Hey, it's that kind of a convention. See ya."
Before I could move on, my watch beeped and Stephanie said, “Ed, Linda wants to talk to you, but she's not in our comm loop."
The vampire lady quickly backed up a step and stared at my watch. I held up that wrist and said, “Two-way radio."
Stephie asked, “What?"
"Not you, Stephie. Tell her I need a few minutes to get back to you and that I'll call her back on your link for privacy."
"Okay."
"Thanks, ma'am. See you shortly."
The vampire lady asked, “Who was that? And who are you? Are you a cop?"
"Nope. Not a cop. Just me and my friend. Gotta go. See ya."
I placed bundles on each of the remaining tables and took the escalator down to the lobby. The vampire lady had forgotten about her phone call. She followed me at a distance as I placed the flyers and got on the escalator just as I was getting off it.
I decided to test one of the other functions of my briefcase and said, “option three, please,” as I moved to put one of the building's pillars between her and me.
I knew option three had functioned perfectly because someone struggling with a luggage cart immediately tried to run me down by walking through me.
As I jumped aside and flattened against the pillar to avoid other traffic, I realized that being invisible had a downside. Someone bumped me sharply as she passed and looked back in puzzlement, but she kept going. I looked for a useable opening in the crowd, but saw none, and I didn't fancy getting banged around or trampled.
A slight break in the herd allowed me to zig-zag dance to a DragonCon bulletin board in the middle of the lobby. People were stopping to read it, so it wasn't difficult to slip between them, but it suddenly seemed as if an unbroken river of people were splitting around the sign.
I considered becoming visible again and immediately discarded the thought. There was no hurry or Stephie would have mentioned it. I saw the vampire lady standing by the pillar, apparently looking right at me, and that threw me for a moment. I watched her to see if she was just looking in my general direction, but no, she was looking at me, not around me.
A woman with a huge backpack turned to go and almost knocked me into the river of people, then she apologized to someone near me who didn't know what the hell she was talking about. When she headed toward the reception desk, I stepped in close behind her and fell into step with her.
It almost worked. She stopped once to let a luggage cart go by, but I was ready for that. Then she stopped to look at something or someone to her left. I wasn't ready for that, and plowed into her backpack, shoving her forward. She almost went down, but I managed to grab the pack and steady her until she got her balance.
By the time she turned to either berate or thank me, I was taking advantage of another brief gap in the crowd to finish my trip to the reception counter. I hopped into one of the hotel's baggage carts to avoid the crowd. When I turned to look back, she was still standing there, staring around in confusion.
But not the vampire lady. She was moving past the bulletin board, looking right at me and advancing in my direction through openings in the herd. I stepped out of the cart and into the next one in line, but she was still staring right at me. No damned doubt about it. I sat on a piece of Samsonite and waited for her to catch up.
"Steph? Should anyone be able to see me at all with option three?"
"You should be well outside the normal human range of vision, Ed."
"What about abnormal ranges? What have we missed?"
"Nothing of which I'm aware, Ed. Someone sees you? Are you sure?"
"If she comes up to me and starts talking to me, I'll be sure enough. We should know in a minute."
Vampire lady was heading straight for me. As she neared my baggage cart, the cant of her gaze showed me that she was looking right at my face. She halted next to the baggage cart and said nothing for some moments.
"Why did you do that?” she asked. “I only wanted to talk to you."
"Yeah, Steph. She sees me."
"You're certain?"
"No doubt about it. She's not guessing at all, ma'am."
"Ask her how."
"In a minute. I should maybe say hello first."
To the vampire lady, I said, “Hi, there. Sorry I disappeared on you, but I was kind of in a hurry to get going. I guess it doesn't matter now, though, does it?"
"Well, you could have just said so, instead of acting like a fugitive, and you didn't quite disappear. It took me a minute to find the briefcase, but once I had it, I never lost sight of you."
"Uhm, well ... This is the first time I've done this. I was mostly just trying to avoid becoming roadkill out there. By the way, my name's Ed."
"Leslie.” She snickered. “Yeah, I noticed you were having some difficulties, but that doesn't explain why you were trying so hard to avoid me. Like I said, you could have just said you had to meet someone."
Stephie said, “Ed, ask her if she's ever been aboard a flitter."
The woman said, “No, I haven't. I'd never even seen one up close until I saw the one in front of the hotel. Are they all emerald green?"
"No,” I said, “Just Stephie, so far as I know. Want to meet her?"
"Steph. Stephie. You've been talking to a flitter?"
I nodded, then felt silly because I was supposed to be invisible, then didn't feel so silly because I was talking to someone who could see me.
"Yup. That's Stephie out there."
She smiled and asked, “Do you think you can make it to the door in that outfit?"
I stood up and smiled back as I gestured toward her freckled cleavage.
"My outfit shows less than yours does, but give me a minute to change."
I dropped to a crouch behind the stacked luggage on the cart and said, “option three off.” When I could see my hands again, I asked, “Is that better?"
"Well, you don't look like a fuzzy picture now, but that briefcase over your head is still out of focus."
Chapter Seven
Vampire lady's name was Leslie Pratt, named after Leslie Caron, a famous dancer her father had quietly adored at the time. I guessed that made her close to forty. She had the walk of a dancer as well as the name, and she took care of herself, I noticed.
"What do you do when you aren't being a vampire, Leslie?"
"I teach English Lit,” she said. “And sometimes I double for a missing History teacher, but I'm losing interest after a decade of trying to teach high schoolers. Three nights a week I teach karate, too. Does that bother you?"
"Not even a little bit. Should it?"
"A lot of men find it ... Disturbing, I guess. Especially one guy who was my date the night I stopped a robbery. Not you, though, huh? Why's that?"
"I used to teach TKD a few nights a week, but the owner died in a car wreck. His wife sold the school. I didn't like the new owners and they didn't like me."
She stepped to one side as we walked and gave me an appraising look.
"Let me guess, here ... Personality clash?"
"Definitely that. All they wanted was a stack of trophies and all the students they could jam onto a mat. Heavy advertising, high washout rate, no refunds or very damned little ones, and all that. 'Sure, kid. We can make you into a Bruce Lee quicker than anyone else in the business'. They lowered some standards and issued some belts before I thought the kids were ready. When I said so, they reminded me who owned the school and who merely taught there."
"Oooo. Bet you didn't take that very well. You don't look the type."
"No, I didn't. I went out on the floor and told my students that I was leaving after that night's classes. When they asked why, I didn't go into it, but I did tell them to look for me at another TKD school nearby."
"I thought you said you weren
't teaching anymore."
"I'm not. I only told them to look for me there so they'd check the place out."
"I see. Why aren't you teaching there, if I may ask?"
I shrugged. “I don't know. When my ex-students started showing up, the other school called me, but I never got around to seeing them about a job. Maybe I'll call them when writing makes my belly a bit softer and I need to get my wind back."
We were approaching Stephanie. Leslie laughed. I glanced at her.
"No, you won't,” she said. “You may work with a few people in your back yard or something like that. You don't sound as if you'll go back to teaching in a formal environment any time soon."
She was right, or close enough to right. I let the subject slide away as we negotiated the crowd and stopped beside Stephanie. I felt a field envelop us and the level of ambient noise dropped to nearly zero. Leslie seemed a little tense as she also looked around. She reached to touch the field.
"Steph, this is Leslie. Leslie, Stephanie."
Steph quickly said, “Hi, Leslie. Can you see anything around me?"
Leslie said, “A whole lot of people. But like a kind of cocoon, you mean?"
"Exactly like a cocoon, Leslie. Ed, she can see my fields."
"Well, so can I, Steph. At least I can see the edges where the light warps a little bit. I know where they are, anyway."
"Leslie,” asked Stephie, “Can you see the whole field, or just the edges?"
"I don't know if I'm seeing the whole thing, but you look a little out of focus, just like Ed's briefcase, and when I look above or around you, the buildings aren't fuzzy about a foot away from you."
"Interesting,” said Stephie. “Do you have any idea why you can see fields and other people can't?"
"Stephie, hold the questions for a moment. It's damned hot out here for us mere humans. Let's hold this conversation until we're aboard."
"Oh, right, Ed. Sorry for my lack of manners, Leslie."
I took Leslie's arm and ushered her aboard. The field boundary marked our passing from the somewhat fume-laden oven that was downtown Atlanta's atmosphere into the cool, unflavored air of Stephanie's cabin.
"Whoo. Thanks, ma'am. This feels much better. Have a seat, Leslie. I have tea and a Dr. Pepper in the cooler. Want one?"
I slapped the cooler open and held up a can of tea and a bottle of DP. She pointed to the tea and said, “Tea, thanks. I take it I'm an unusual specimen?"
I nodded. “Yup. You can see stuff other people can't. If someone named Linda asks you to go somewhere and take some tests, hold out for decent money. She can afford it. Speaking of Linda, Stephie, did she say what she wanted?"
"No, she didn't, Ed. She only said that you're to call her back soonest."
"Well, ring her up and tell her about Leslie's talent and ask if she's interested. Put her through to us only if she says it's all right to do so. Her other topic may not be one she cares to share with the public."
I leaned toward Leslie and said, “You're the public, of course. Sorry ‘bout that."
Leslie smiled and nodded and sipped her tea.
Stephie said, “You know she'll be interested. Why ask?"
"You'll get the hang of things like this along the line, Steph. Just tell her I asked you to ask her if she's at all interested and listen carefully to her answer."
A few moments later Stephie said, “She called you a twit and told me not to develop a sense of humor even remotely like yours. She also said she's interested."
Linda's voice said, “Just introduce me, Ed."
I grinned at Leslie and said, “Leslie, Linda. Vice and versa."
"Hi, Leslie. Ed, I'm pressed for time, so let's see if we can work together today. I need you here this evening for a couple of hours. Something's come up. Leslie, can you spare some time this evening? Say, maybe two hours? I have a few questions."
"Well, I guess so,” said Leslie. “But where are you? Who are you?"
"My office is only about fifteen minutes away by flitter, Leslie. I work for 3rd World."
I said, “Hey, Linda, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, how about doing me a small favor?"
There was a moment of silence, then, “What kind of favor would that be, Ed?"
"Call the hotel manager and tell her you need to speak to me at once."
"Do I want to know why, Ed?"
"I just need to back out of a date gracefully. If I call after you call and say my boss has commandeered my evening, she won't think I'm just trying to get out of it. She won't think it's her fault, either."
Linda laughed. She laughed hard.
"Ed, no woman you'd ever hook up with is going to think it's her fault. You don't go for the mousy types."
"We had an awkward start and a short lunch. This one might, and she shouldn't. Will you do it?"
"Sure, why not? What's her name?"
"Anne Carson. Stephie will give you her number."
"Okay. I'll call her and tell her you're shanghaied. Anything else?"
"Nope. When do you want us there?"
"How soon can you be here?"
"I thought you said 'evening'? I haven't even called Diana yet."
"I did. I told her you might not be available until late. She said okay."
That ticked me off a little, and I let Linda hear it.
"Well, thanks a helluva lot, Linda. I'll handle things like that myself from now on, okay? Besides, Leslie may have an agenda of her own here at the con."
Leslie said, “It's all right, Ed. The stuff I want to see happens later. I think I'd rather go for a ride in Stephanie, but maybe I ought to change before we leave. What should I wear?"
"Well, I'm going like this, so I'd say to go casual."
Linda said, “He'd say that anyway. He'd wear a fatigue shirt and jeans to meet the President, but he's right. We're informal around here."
The deal was done. Leslie and I split up at the elevators. She was on her way to the room she was sharing with four other women to change and I walked over to the front desk to call Anne.
Anne told me she understood impromptu calls quite well and went on to describe one that had involved a particularly strange and noisy party one night. I nonetheless apologized for the second or third time before the conversation ended.
From behind me, Leslie said, “I'm back."
I turned to see a slightly shorter version of her in a mid-thigh denim skirt and an ivory blouse. She was wearing sneakers and carrying a small backpack like you see around colleges. My eyes rested on her tanned legs for a long moment before moving up to her face. Her light grey eyes met mine.
With a slight smile, she asked, “Well? How do I look?"
"Damned fine, ma'am. Damned fine. Do you have any problems with flying?"
"Uh, no, I don't think so. My father had a Cessna."
"You should do fine, then. I may even let you drive."
She looked at me oddly and decided that I was joking.
Once we were seated, I said, “Okay, Stephie. All set. Give us a slow rise until we clear the rooftops, then go subsonic to whatever you like above thirty thousand."
"Why a slow rise, Ed?"
"For show, Stephie. Give everybody a good look at the pretty flitter."
"You think I'm pretty, Ed?"
"You make an SR-21 Blackbird look dull and graceless, Stephie. You're my beautiful flying emerald, and don't you ever forget it. That's an order, by the way."
"Yes, sir, sir! Aye, aye, and all that! How about a raise?"
"Sure, lady. How about I double whatever you're making now?"
Leslie gave me a frantic little wave and asked, “What about seat belts?"
"Don't need ‘em. Try to get up."
Stephie began lifting, which caused the crowd to back away fairly quickly. Leslie's tension mounted for a moment as she tried to rise from her seat, then she looked at me. I tilted my seat back a bit and smiled.
"The lap of luxury, ma'am. Tell Stephie when you want to get up."
People were wa
tching us from the windows of surrounding buildings. I waved to some of them. Leslie looked to see who I was waving at. Someone must have waved at her, because she waved back.
As we lifted well above the buildings, she asked, “Where are we going, Ed?"
"Carrington, North Dakota. Fifteen or twenty minutes away, once we reach an altitude where a sonic boom won't shatter downtown Atlanta."
Leslie's eyes had been wide before, but now they turned to saucers.
"North Dakota? Fifteen minutes? Are you serious?"
"Yup. Stephie's more than just a fancy paint job. She's really pretty quick."
"Well, Jesus, I guess so! How fast will we be going?"
"Around thirty-four-hundred."
"Miles per hour?"
I nodded. “Yeah, miles per hour. Want another tea?"
Leslie shook her head as she stared first at me, then at Stephie's console, and then over the side at the city below.
"Ho-ly shit...” she muttered. “That's a lot faster than the advertisements I've seen, Ed. Are you sure about the speed? Are you sure this thing's safe?"
I shrugged. “Stephie isn't a stock model, and I'm not worried about safety. Hey, Steph, are you worried about safety?"
"No, Ed. I'm not worried."
Leslie snapped around to look at me and yelled, “Why the hell should she worry? She doesn't have to breathe up here, does she?"
"No, but I do. Relax. We've made trips like this before, y'know. This is what she does, and she does it very well, so sit back and take it easy, Leslie. Stephie, would you pick out some music, please?"
"Will do, Ed. Leslie, what kind of music do you like?"
Leslie was staring over the side at the Earth below us. She sat up and looked around the cabin with mild confusion.
"Huh? What? I don't care. Uhm, well, anything but country or rap, I guess."
I laughed as I reached for her hand, squeezed it slightly, and said, “Thank you."
She just looked at me blankly as Stephie filled the cabin with some rock from the eighties at a medium volume. It seemed likely to me that Stephie guessed those years to be her favorites based on her age. They were mine, too, but I think mostly because I spent the seventies in places where radios were generally military and the pop charts couldn't reach me.
Book 2: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 7