worthless little boy like Tony Ringo do to draw your attention?"
"So you know him?"
"Yes. But then again, you already know that, don't you? Why else would you be here?"
I have no expressions to read, but something must have given away my thoughts.
"Oh, I'm not going to deny we used to hang out together," she said. "He was fun for a little while, good for a few laughs. Harmless, really."
"I think he's taken some friends of mine," I said, surprised that I volunteered the information. There was something unsettling about Napier, and it thrust some odd compulsions into my own behavioral directives.
"Tony?" She waved her hand. "Please, Tony couldn't hurt a fly. Not that he wouldn't try. He's just . . . incapable. A rather pathetic little boy pretending to be a big man."
"Well, maybe he's through pretending. Or worse, maybe he still is pretending, only now he's worked up the guts to give it a go and screw it up."
She tossed her blond hair across her right shoulder. "Possible, I suppose. But why would Tony take these friends of yours?"
"I don't know. Hell, I could be wrong. Only way to know is to find Ringo and ask him."
"And if dear Tony doesn't feel like answering?" she asked.
"I'll persuade him."
"Tony can be a very stubborn boy."
"I can be a very persuasive bot," I replied.
She stood and circled me once more before laying both palms on my chest. "Prove it. Persuade me."
I stepped back, and she nearly fell over.
"Lady, I don't know what you're into, but I'm not interested."
I expected that familiar pout to cross her face again, but I guess she'd heard me say no enough times to catch the hint. She smiled, and there was something predatory about that smile, like this wasn't over yet. But it was. The file was closed, the program deleted.
"I assume you've tried the Hotel Swallow already," she said.
I nodded.
"Honestly, I don't know much of Tony's habits. We weren't that close. It was purely a physical relationship. He's very fond of a place called The Golden Diode. It's a club on the bad end of Pi Street. Can't say if he still haunts the place, but he likes jazz and getting drunk. If he's not there, it's a good bet he'll be in the area."
"Thanks."
I turned to leave, but Humbolt stood in my way. He held out a coat to me. It was mine, but clean and pressed. "Here's your coat, pal. I took the liberty of givin' it a quick splash and dry. I could stitch up the tears if you gave me a few more minutes."
"No, thanks." I took it back and threw it over my shoulder. I'd put it on later, but for now, I wanted out of here. I headed toward the levitator pod and safety.
Napier followed. "Come back any time, Mack. I'll leave your name with the front desk, let them know to let you up anytime you please. Anytime."
I didn't reply. But staying away from Proton Towers was now on the short list of directives, right in front of not poking my optics out with a diamond-tipped auger.
The tube's doors parted, and I stepped inside. I was tempted to keep my back to Napier, but something made me turn. She was still smiling, though it was a softer, less frisky expression. I wondered when the damn doors would close. They were two seconds behind schedule.
"Tony likes jazz. Don't know if that'll help, but he does."
"Jazz. Got it."
Mercifully, the doors started sliding shut.
"And, Mack," she said. "Hope you find your friends."
"Me, too."
And then the tube sealed itself, and I was on my way out of Lucia Napier's world for good.
8
I figured Ringo wouldn't be showing up at The Golden Diode for his drink until evening. If I'd had any other lead to follow up, I would've continued my search. But I didn't, so I relocated my amateur detective work to a secondary directive and started on the other things I needed to do.
This in itself was an odd development. Normally, I was loaded with free time. Except for going to work, visiting my shrink, and maybe a stab at socialization every now and then, my schedule consisted entirely of standing in
"So you know him?"
"Yes. But then again, you already know that, don't you? Why else would you be here?"
I have no expressions to read, but something must have given away my thoughts.
"Oh, I'm not going to deny we used to hang out together," she said. "He was fun for a little while, good for a few laughs. Harmless, really."
"I think he's taken some friends of mine," I said, surprised that I volunteered the information. There was something unsettling about Napier, and it thrust some odd compulsions into my own behavioral directives.
"Tony?" She waved her hand. "Please, Tony couldn't hurt a fly. Not that he wouldn't try. He's just . . . incapable. A rather pathetic little boy pretending to be a big man."
"Well, maybe he's through pretending. Or worse, maybe he still is pretending, only now he's worked up the guts to give it a go and screw it up."
She tossed her blond hair across her right shoulder. "Possible, I suppose. But why would Tony take these friends of yours?"
"I don't know. Hell, I could be wrong. Only way to know is to find Ringo and ask him."
"And if dear Tony doesn't feel like answering?" she asked.
"I'll persuade him."
"Tony can be a very stubborn boy."
"I can be a very persuasive bot," I replied.
She stood and circled me once more before laying both palms on my chest. "Prove it. Persuade me."
I stepped back, and she nearly fell over.
"Lady, I don't know what you're into, but I'm not interested."
I expected that familiar pout to cross her face again, but I guess she'd heard me say no enough times to catch the hint. She smiled, and there was something predatory about that smile, like this wasn't over yet. But it was. The file was closed, the program deleted.
"I assume you've tried the Hotel Swallow already," she said.
I nodded.
"Honestly, I don't know much of Tony's habits. We weren't that close. It was purely a physical relationship. He's very fond of a place called The Golden Diode. It's a club on the bad end of Pi Street. Can't say if he still haunts the place, but he likes jazz and getting drunk. If he's not there, it's a good bet he'll be in the area."
"Thanks."
I turned to leave, but Humbolt stood in my way. He held out a coat to me. It was mine, but clean and pressed. "Here's your coat, pal. I took the liberty of givin' it a quick splash and dry. I could stitch up the tears if you gave me a few more minutes."
"No, thanks." I took it back and threw it over my shoulder. I'd put it on later, but for now, I wanted out of here. I headed toward the levitator pod and safety.
Napier followed. "Come back any time, Mack. I'll leave your name with the front desk, let them know to let you up anytime you please. Anytime."
I didn't reply. But staying away from Proton Towers was now on the short list of directives, right in front of not poking my optics out with a diamond-tipped auger.
The tube's doors parted, and I stepped inside. I was tempted to keep my back to Napier, but something made me turn. She was still smiling, though it was a softer, less frisky expression. I wondered when the damn doors would close. They were two seconds behind schedule.
"Tony likes jazz. Don't know if that'll help, but he does."
"Jazz. Got it."
Mercifully, the doors started sliding shut.
"And, Mack," she said. "Hope you find your friends."
"Me, too."
And then the tube sealed itself, and I was on my way out of Lucia Napier's world for good.
8
I figured Ringo wouldn't be showing up at The Golden Diode for his drink until evening. If I'd had any other lead to follow up, I would've continued my search. But I didn't, so I relocated my amateur detective work to a secondary directive and started on the other things I needed to do.
This in itself was an odd development. Normally, I was loaded with free time. Except for going to work, visiting my shrink, and maybe a stab at socialization every now and then, my schedule consisted entirely of standing in
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