Book 2: 3rd World Products, Inc.

by Ed Howdershelt

  The guards jumped down and helped the bunnies step down, and the bunnies made a minor production of disembarking Stephanie, showing lots of leg and smiling as if they'd thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

  They graciously thanked me for the flitter ride and—apparently as an afterthought—included Stephanie in the thanks, then headed back into the hotel. Frank gave me a last glance that made him look more unhappy than ever, particularly with me, then he turned to follow the ladies inside.

  "Stephie, opaque the canopy, please."

  The canopy instantly appeared to be made of dull, silvery metal. I pulled my briefcase down and opened it, then transferred a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and my toilet kit from a compartment in the flitter console to the briefcase. When I closed the case and released it, it returned to hovering above me.

  "Okay. All done, Steph. Transparent canopy again."

  Once the crowd around the flitter had thinned a bit, a woman in jeans and a light blue blouse came through the hotel's revolving doors and walked down the driveway toward me. As she got closer, I saw that it was Diana and told Stephie to let the field down for her, then motioned to Di to come aboard and reached for her hand to help her step up. She finished her step up with a quick kiss and a grin.

  Stephie and Di had met a few months before, when Di had dropped by Florida to visit with her ex-roommate Selena and me.

  "Hi, Stephie,” said Di. “Has he been treating you well?"

  Stephie borrowed one of my stock answers. “Oh, I'm surviving. How are you?"

  "Pretty good, really. Ed, I'm pretty certain that two of those bunnies haven't been centerfolds since the eighties, but they still look pretty good. I think I'm jealous."

  "Believe it or not, the blonde was a centerfold in 1969. She came to Vietnam to entertain the troops."

  "Are you serious? Damn. The wonders of science, huh?"

  "Guess so. Linda said she called you."

  "She did. She's hijacking you for something, she said. Something personal, or something business?"

  "Business. My retirement papers are still in her desk. She never sent them in."

  "Well, I don't think I like that too much."

  "No biggie, Di. I was bored shitless, anyway. Retirement sucks."

  She chuckled and shrugged. “Well, okay, then, since you put it that way."

  "I'm about to go find a snack. Care to join me?"

  "Love to. Can't. Phillip is picking me up soon."

  "Phillip? Is he the same one? Wow. You aren't tired of him yet?"

  She gave me a look of sufferance and said, “You know he's the same one, Ed, and no, I'm not tired of him yet. What time will you be coming by?"

  I sat back and said, “Well, I'm not sure. How much does ol’ Phil know about me?"

  "A lot. Enough. 'Ol’ Phil' has read your 'Dragonfly Run' printout and he knows we used to live together."

  "Maybe you've told him more than I'd have told him?"

  "Probably. We've been together almost a year, Ed."

  "Uh, huh. Tell you what, Di; I'm trying to pretend that I'm him and that one of my girlfriend's old boyfriends is sleeping on our couch. Since I'm shipping out on Sunday, anyway, why don't I just get a room this time? I can come pick you both up sometime for a day at the beach."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah, I think so. Does he know about Selena?"

  Diana raised a hand and said, “Not as more than a roommate. I didn't think it would be a good idea, and Selena didn't want me to tell him, either. An ex-boyfriend is one thing. An ex-girlfriend would be something else, I think. Our arrangement back in Inverness would fall somewhat outside his range of acceptability, Ed."

  I nodded. “Does he drive a blue Ford?"

  Diana looked quickly around and saw the car pulling up to the doors.

  "Gotta go,” she said, leaning to give me a quick kiss before rising from her seat.

  "Yup. Hey, let him come over here and get a look at Stephanie."

  Phillip had seen Diana waving. He drifted the Ford out of the high traffic area and parked it, then got out. He was about my height and weight and walked like someone who keeps in shape. I waved at him to come aboard and he hesitated only a second before stepping up to Stephie's deck.

  You know the drill. Two guys eyeball each other for a moment, then, mostly because the girl is present, they shake hands and say their first names, then stand there wondering what to say next. I gestured at the console and said, “Stephanie."

  Phil's expression was mild confusion.

  I added, “The flitter. She's Stephanie. Say hi to her."

  "Uh, hi, Stephanie."

  "Hi, Phil."

  Phil looked startled, then said, “Well, uh, hi there, Stephanie. Should I talk to the console, here?"

  I said, “No. Just talk. She's the whole flitter. She's everywhere. Anybody want a beer, or do you really have to run?"

  Di shook her head. Phil saw the motion and also declined a beer. It was an awkward moment for all concerned that might have lasted longer if Anne hadn't walked up and said grinningly said, “Well, hello, all. Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

  I extended a hand to her and helped her up. After introducing her around, she wanted to know if I had plans for dinner.

  "Absolutely none. I was going to sit here and quietly starve in your parking lot."

  "No need for that if you come with me in the next few minutes. I'm having a late dinner brought up to my room."

  "That sounds good to me. Give me a minute to clear the bridge, here. These two were about to leave me all alone in the dark of night, anyway."

  Phil and Di said goodbye and headed to the Ford. I looked after them, hoping that she'd made a good choice, then remembered that they'd been together almost a year.

  "Ed?"

  My attention turned to Anne. She was looking at me slightly quizzically.

  "Present,” I said. “Ready to go, now. I was just thinking."

  "I could see that. Are you worried about her?"

  "No. He seems okay. It's the first time I've met him, that's all. Kind of awkward."

  "Ah.” She nodded and took my arm. “Dinner. Let's go."

  On the way past the front desk, she took a moment to tell the clerk to send up a couple of steaks and salads.

  When she asked what kind of wine I liked, I said, “I'll have an Ice House beer. Pick a wine you like, Anne. I don't drink it."

  She told the clerk to send up a bottle of something and three bottles of Ice House beer, then asked if anything needed her attention before she left.

  He shook his head and said, “No, ma'am. Things are solid here."

  With a nod, she turned and led me toward the elevators, then stopped.

  "That woman was the one you were going to stay with tonight, wasn't she?"

  "You got it. He and she have an apartment north of town. I canceled. He wasn't totally in tune with the idea, and neither was I."

  "Where will you be staying, then?"

  "Stephie's comfortable and I don't feel like looking for a room at this hour."

  "I don't think so,” she said, leading me back to the front desk. “Can't camp in a parking lot in Atlanta."

  She told the clerk to give me a room on a floor that was being renovated.

  "We can't rent these rooms, but if you don't mind not having maid service...?"

  "Oh, I think I'll survive well enough. Thank you."

  I took the key card and put it in my pocket, then she took my arm again and we were off. By the elevators, she told some guy in a hotel uniform that she might need certain office supplies and made a quick list of things to be brought up with dinner.

  As he left with the note, I asked, “Are we going to be working on something?"

  "No, I just like to have things like that on hand."

  I nodded. She was just deterring gossip among the hotel employees. When she punched the button for the second floor, she said she wanted to stop at the con suite for a moment to handle a detail.

  In
the con suite, I was left to my own devices for a few minutes as she conferred with someone. The suite was actually two adjoining rooms; one for smokers and one for non-smokers and concessions. A moderately lavish buffet of meat and cheese sandwiches had been set and to one side stood a self-service soft-drink dispenser such as you'd see in a restaurant.

  "May I help you? Oh. Hi, Ed. I didn't see you come in."

  I shook hands with the tall black guy in a Star Fleet uniform behind the buffet counter. He was the food and refreshments honcho every year. I didn't know what he did in the real world, but in the con suite he was a king.

  "Still wearing gold, huh? I'd have thought you'd be a bridge officer by now."

  "Nah. This mickeymouse branch of Star Fleet makes us buy our own uniforms, so I can't move up until I can afford it. On the other hand, I can eat all I want and I'm in charge of the menus."

  "Give and take. Such is life. I'd try the table, but I'm about to go to dinner."

  "With that woman you came in with? Man, I'd bear her children. She's nice!"

  "Well, she did add some office supplies to the dinner cart. We may be working."

  "Oh, tough break. Still, she looks like good company to me."

  Someone called him from the kitchenette and he excused himself. Some people in the other room were singing in warped harmony and I heard a buzzing noise that turned out to be one of the fang-makers using a Dremel tool on a finished fang. He'd set up shop in the corner of the room.

  A blue-skinned alien was patching up his makeup and a vampire was dealing cards at one of the tables. Two Klingons walked into the room behind me and yelled, “Food!” When I looked, they were mock-attacking the buffet offerings.

  Anne came out of the kitchenette with a woman in what appeared to be a rather elaborate fairy costume and left her by the Klingons as she approached me.

  "Done,” she said, taking my arm and guiding me toward the door. “Let's go see if dinner is being served yet."

  It was. We met the dinner cart in the elevator. After the bellhop set the food on the table and poured her wine and my beer, he set the box of office supplies on the floor by the desk at Anne's direction. I tipped him five bucks and he left.

  Anne's “room” was more a small apartment, complete with a kitchenette and a number of other accoutrements not usually found in hotel rooms. We took turns washing up and met at the table a few minutes later, where I held her chair as she sat down before taking my own seat.

  The first half or so of our dinner was quiet, with only a few words spoken now and then, but the second half livened up a bit.

  "You know,” said Anne, “I came to work here two years ago, just before DragonCon in 1998. That con was the first time I saw you."

  "I'm surprised you noticed me, much less remembered me."

  "Remember what I said about profiles? You didn't fit any of them well enough to be categorized. I put you on a 'watch' list, just to be on the safe side, and got your personal info from the con registration people. That Saturday you did something that made our house security run a check on you."

  "I did something? What was it?"

  "You shanghaied a bunch of wannabe-Klingons to use as a guard detail for the bunnies. For about fifteen minutes the con guy, Chuck, was having kittens about it, but Ben told him to look into incorporating the Klingons into their con security. You weren't registered as anything but a regular guest, but you seemed to have a lot of clout, and we found out that the bunnies had asked for you, specifically."

  "So what did you find out with your security check?"

  "Not a much, really. At the time, you had a house, a car, and you were retired, but you were only forty-eight and nobody could find out what you'd retired from. One inquiry came back with a government-speak note to mind our own damned business."

  "They can be like that, sometimes."

  "Yes, they can. It made us more curious, of course. We also found out about your websites and ran your name through a number of search engines to see what all you were into on the net. Hotel security officially shelved the matter when nothing nefarious turned up. I didn't."

  "Reason?"

  "Well, they didn't have the time or inclination to look any farther without some cause for alarm, but I was still curious. Last year an ebook called 'Dragonfly Run' appeared on one of your sites. I read it. How much of it was fiction, Ed?"

  "Peoples’ names, mostly."

  "Some of the other stuff you've written didn't sound completely fictitious, either, even though it had to do with superwomen. It seemed to me that you'd just taken bits of your past and mixed them into the stories."

  "History is easier to write than fiction. The details are already in place."

  She nodded and nibbled, then said, “The next year you were herding bunnies again and doing something that involved keeping an eye on one of the star guests from a TV show, but you were still registered only as a guest. When the star became difficult during an autograph session, you took her aside. She calmed down instantly, according to one of the authors we spoke to. Later you told Chuck that you wouldn't be available for that star again."

  "I don't like divas. She wasn't to be left unguarded and she wouldn't take the matter seriously. She ordered me to fetch her a drink and I told her I'd have one of the runners get it. She said she wanted me to do it and said that she'd go back to her room if I didn't get her a vodka tonic. We talked about the matter for a few minutes in private and then she sat her ass back down and did her job."

  "Her job?"

  "Yeah. She was sponsored by her show. If you're paid, it's a job, no matter what it says on your con badge."

  "What did you say to her?"

  "That's between her and me, Anne."

  "Did you threaten her?"

  "Only as far as letting all the wrong people know she'd acted like an asshole."

  Anne laughed. “You know all the wrong people, Ed?"

  "I knew hers, particularly those people who'd thought the convention was worth cutting her a fat check for attending."

  "I see. But this year you aren't herding bunnies or guarding stars, Ed. Why's that?"

  "I didn't know if I'd be here, so I didn't commit to anything in advance."

  Anne nodded.

  "That leaves me wondering only what you retired from and how you managed to have a flitter registered in your name in Florida."

  "Guess it does. How do you plan to pry that information out of me?"

  Anne set her plate aside and sipped her wine for a moment, then said, “According to my security people, all the best methods are illegal these days. All that's left is seduction, as far as I can tell."

  I poured some more beer in my glass and said, “Oh, damn. That could work."

  Anne tried to keep a straight face and failed. The snicker turned into a laugh and she said, “Want to tell me now and save yourself the ordeal?"

  "Not a chance. I have to hold out as long as I can. It's in the rules somewhere."

  "Whose rules, Ed?"

  I waggled a finger at her. “No, no. Telling you that would tell you all you need to know to put it together. Sorry, ma'am. Nothing worth having comes easy."

  Again she laughed. “Trouble is, Ed, that you can't always tell if something is worth having until you've had it. Are you worth having?"

  "I'll say yes to that. I'd like to think so, obviously."

  "Oh, obviously. Yes, indeed. Of course. Pour me another wine while I try to figure out where to begin this interrogation."

  I poured her another glassful and said, “May I make a suggestion about that?"

  Anne grinned at me. “By all means, do."

  "A shower. A long, hot, soapy shower may loosen me up."

  "Is this one of those 'please don't throw me in that briar patch' things, Ed?"

  "You'll just have to find out, I guess, but I can assure you that after a day at the con, I need a shower in any case."

  She sipped her wine and said, “Um. Good point. Okay. We'll try a shower first."
>
  Chapter Twelve

  I woke up to the sound of some kind of machine in the hallway that sounded like a damned hair dryer on steroids. My watch said almost nine. Wiping sleep from my eyes, I wandered to the door and peeked out. It was a hair dryer—sort of—and some guy was using it to remove tile and glue from the hallway floor. I briefly wondered why there'd been tiles on the floor under the carpeting.

  Coffee. I turned on the 'hot' in the bathroom sink and let it run to get as hot as it would while I pulled down my briefcase and rooted for my stash of instant. Tossing a little in one of the bathroom cups, I added water and stirred with the butt of my toothbrush. Surprise; the cup was almost too hot to hold. I added some cold water so I could get the stuff into me with reasonable haste.

  Understand; I don't like to waste time sleeping and I hate waking up. Work out the psychology of that on your own sometime. At that moment, though, I could cheerfully have fallen back into sleep, but the phone rang at nine on the dot. I answered with my stock greeting number three.

  "You found me, whoever you are. What do I win?"

  Anne said, “Good morning to you, too. Chuck is trying to find you."

  "Huh. Nothing new about that. What did you tell him?"

  "Nothing. He just left a message with my secretary."

  "Good. Whatever it is, he can handle it if he's forced to. Want some breakfast?"

  "You're an hour late in asking. Are you usually such a late sleeper?"

  "Some woman took severe advantage of me last night. I was lucky to escape at all. I should probably be in a hospital, not a hotel room."

  Anne laughed and said, “Oh, poor little you. How about lunch?"

  "Sure. I should be pretty much healed by noon, I think."

  "Good enough. Call or drop by my office."

  "Will do, ma'am. See you before noon."

  Well, at that point I was awake enough to make going back to sleep difficult, so I got cleaned up and dressed and headed to the con suite, where I knew there would be decent coffee and a place to putz away half an hour until the con officially opened for the day.

  Bzzt. Wrong. There was a crowd outside the door. They were cleaning the suite because someone had partied too hard during the night and barfed expansively.