[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Production of Vitamin D, or have you got a job that's beyond your meager computer talents?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Meager?" I frowned as I pulled off my black leather jacket and tossed it onto one of the white leather
chairs sitting in a corner. "I know how to turn one of these things on and off, you know. Meager, sheesh."
She gave me an exaggerated nod. "Sure you do. What do you need?"
"The Pacific Northwest Hunting Club lost an employee tonight. You pulled a file on him back when we
went after Reverend Roberts. You remember Albion?"
"His file was a null. Burkingmen had some anecdotes about him. He was working at PNHC?"
"So I understand. A member recommended him. I want to know who that was and something about
him."
"Is that all?" Valerie rolled her eyes. "Look, Wolf, no jack."
I stuck my tongue out at her, but she'd already started beating out a harsh staccato on her keyboard. I
left the room and mounted the stairs to the first floor. In the kitchen I grabbed two cups of kaf and
exchanged a series of uninformative grunts with Tom Electric. He had his eyes glued to a Bookman and
was doing his best to upload some self-help book into his gray-ROM.
"Annie's coming back to town, eh, Tom?"
Grunt and nod.
I looked at the container that had carried the book chip."All I Need to Know to Understand Women I
Learned In Catholic School? Are you sure that will help you, Tom?"
Hopeful grunt and emphatic nod.
I shrugged and carried the dual mugs of soykaf from the room. Tom's ex-wife comes to Seattle every six
months or so, whether Tom's recovered from the last visit or not. I wondered at his choice of scanning
material because Annie struck me as about the most un-nunlike woman I'd ever met. Then again, I
couldn't rule out the possibility that she'd found a convent out there that catered to macrobiotically
nourished, politically correct, archeo-feminist, neo-retro splatter-metal enthusiasts with bipolar disorders.
Valerie silently forgave me for taking so long when I handed her the brimming mug. "Got your prey."
"It was thateasyT
"No, love. I'm that good." She shook her head, her thick brown braid flopping from shoulder to
shoulder. "What does Lynn see in you?"
"She knows, deep down, I'm just a real sensitive guy." I gave her a crocodile smile, then leaned against a
mainframe cabinet. "Who is he?"
"She. Selene Reece is her name. She's a great granddaughter of Harold Reece. He was a newspaper
tycoon before the Awakening. He diversified and left everyone a lot of money. She's a black sheep of the
family, the illegitimate daughter of a granddaughter who used a lot of recreational chemicals at a time
when it was thought LSD could keep one from goblinizing."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
I nodded. Orks and trolls usually bred true, but some folks in the general population are tagged with
"monster" genes. They tend to kick in around puberty, causing embarrassment somewhat greater than
having your voice crack or your face break out. In essence, their whole body breaks out, and they shift
from being normal human kids to orks or even worse.
It's not pretty and usually very confusing. There are plenty of orks who don't make it through the
transformation with their psyches intact. There are even more con artists making a fortune selling
everything from sugar pills to votive candles to prevent kids from undergoing the change. While kids
might not fully understand the problem, their parents do and will do just about anything to avoid the
humiliation of having a child "run away."
"This Reece recommended Albion to the Club as a hire? I have a hard time placing Albion and his
porcupine coiffure in that kind of place."
Val shrugged and sipped her soykaf. "Cheap thrills for the elite without their having to go slumming. The
club's computer didn't have any record of his employment, but the tailor who made his uniform still had a
copy of the employment record. Selene Reece is listed as his sponsor."
"Checks with what Cutty told me. Where is Reece now?"
"You're expecting a lot in exchange for a kafcup. Tom Electric would have brought me donuts."
"I owe you. Do you know where she is?"
Valerie nodded her head. "According to the club schedule she's up in the Yukon. She won a lottery and
is going after a snow moose. Won't be back for a week."
I smiled widely enough that Valerie knew I was getting myself into trouble and wanted her to set it up.
"Can you crack back into their computer to confirm a dinner engagement for me with her there, tonight,
about six? Make it look like it was on, then got scrubbed by the lottery win."
She looked hard at me. "You're seeing Lynn tonight, Wolf."
"I know, I know." I set the mug on top of the computer. "Set the dinner thing for six. I meet Lynn at
eight. I just want a chance to look around. I'll be in and out, fast. I want to reconnoiter so I can report to
Doc when he gets back."
Valerie drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I suppose, but if you stand Lynn up, you'll regret
it."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Val, honest."
"Good." She smiled wickedly. "Because if you do I'll make sure you're on every boiler-room investment
househot list from now until the collapse of Western civilization." III
This is the part of the story where most narrators would mention that they slept fitfully and had prophetic
dreams about the past and future melding together. I'm supposed to tell you all about the dreams, using
cryptic terms that will confuse you until things come together later. It's the way you know the stuff you're
reading isart.
I've got no dreams to share. That doesn't mean I didn't dream, mind you, but just that I don't want to
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
share the dreams. From the second my head hit the pillow in the spare room Raven has allotted to me, I
dreamed of Lynn. The dreams might have been prophetic in fact, I was hoping they were which
explains why I'm not going to share them.
I had fully intended to sleep until the sun was so far over the yardarm they'd have to use a satellite link to
communicate, but Stealth whooshed and creaked on into the room I use. My eyes came instantly open,
but my Viper stayed under the pillow. No sense in wasting a bullet on a target that could have taken an
Exocet hit without denting his hide.
"No new toys to show me?" I sat up in the bed and let the frivolity drain out of my voice. His armor is
better against humor than it is against bullets. "What's up, Stealth?"
"Valerie Valkyrie says you're asking about the Pacific Northwest Hunting Club."
I nodded. "Albion had a job there for the past week. He was recommended by a member. I thought I
would check it out this evening."
Stealth remained absolutely still for a moment. He didn't so much as breathe, which he really didn't need
to do anyway. To help in the assassination work he used to do before he became claw-abled, Stealth
traded a lung lobe for an internal air tank with a slow-release oxygen system. Saved his life once gave
him enough time to free his feet from a block of cement at the bottom of the Sound.
At last the Oracle spoke. "You will be armed?"
Stealth lives by that fragment of wisdom that says "No problem so large that it cannot be solved by the
suitable application of plastic explosives." He proved that, both in his professional and private life. In fact,
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]