Only Forward by Michael Marshall Smith

what I look like, have I? Remind me later and I will: it's not that bad, but it's kind of uncompromising. Every face says something: the deal with mine is that though you might not like what it's saying you have to admire the strength of its convictions.
    'What does it look like?' Alkland asked doubtfully. The waitress thought for a moment.
    'Strange.'
    'I can't say I'm surprised. Well, I suppose I'll have to risk it.'
    'Anything to drink, sir?'
    'A glass of wine would be rather nice. Any idea how long it'll be? To the nearest day?'
    'Well, he's already cooked one thing this evening, so he'll probably be a bit tired, but I'll try and hurry it up for you, sir.'
    Thank you, my dear,' Alkland beamed endearingly, handing her his menu and settling back down to gaze benignly round the room.
    I flagged her down as she passed, and asked for the check, lighting a cigarette and settling down for a long wait. She was back before I'd finished it, however, with both my check and a salad for Alkland, for God's sake. He hadn't even ordered one and there he was eating something within minutes. Obviously some people have got it and some people haven't.
    I paid up and went straight to the lobby, where a uniformed flunky was now standing, trying to look busy. Maybe this was the off season, or perhaps this was the least favoured of Play's hotels. It was certainly a good choice for a gang to hole up in. Passing myself off as 'one of his party' I asked which room Alkland had, and the flunky was glad to help. He told me twice, it was such a novelty to have something to do, and when I asked him where the bar was he practically carried me there.
    For the next two hours I sat unobtrusively in the bar, flicking through magazines and keeping an eye out. I'd decided to wait until after shutdown before I did anything, and the bar was conveniently placed for making sure nobody I was interested in left the hotel without my knowing. A few couples were dotted around the bar and a handful passed through on their way somewhere else, but no one who didn't look like they were Stable born and bred. Either the gang were lying low in their rooms, or were out and about in Stable. I considered asking the lobby flunky for a list of registered guests, on the off-chance that I might recognise any of the names, but decided that it would look too suspicious. Just before ten o'clock Alkland passed by the door, heading towards the stairs up to the rooms, but I didn't follow him. I knew where he was going.
    By half past ten I was the only person left in the bar. One by one, stifling yawns, everyone else had sloped off. I wondered if the Authorities put something in the water. Rebellion and sedition are night-time ideas, two a.m. thoughts, the stuff of tired eyes and black coffee. I bet all those revolutionaries and activists way back would never have got so grumpy if they'd always been safely tucked up in bed by eleven o'clock.
    I was feeling far from tired. I was tense and geared up, ready for action. If there had been a mood detector near me it would have blown up taking three city blocks with it. But I faked a few yawns and looked at my watch a couple of times, in case anyone noticed. At five to eleven, yawning massively, I bid goodnight to the barman dozily wiping the counter down and made for the lobby. The flunky had disappeared and there was no one else in sight. Casting a quick glance around I sidled out the front door.
    I saw why Snedd had run into trouble the moment I was outside. No one, but no one, was around. The Stablents could have time-shared their Neighbourhood with a race who only ever wanted to be out on the streets at night, and neither would have known the other existed. I snuck round the side of the hotel and made my way through the undergrowth towards the back, taking care to keep close to the walls. Alkland was in room 301, which was on the back right corner of the building on the third floor. Rather than risk getting shot in two before I got anywhere