[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
It led him toward the opposite side of the lobby. Mirable's quarters and
office were here.
When he placed his palm over the call contact, he heard a reassuring buzz
within. But no one came to open the door or check on the caller. He repeated
Page 52
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the action, with the same result.
He tried to tell himself she could be out of the building. That must be it.
His bill was paid for two more days in advance, but it would only be polite to
leave a message explaining his sudden departure.
Picking the light stylus from its holder in the wall, he inscribed his
good-bye on the electronic
file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%2...x%204%20-%20The%20End%20Of%20T
he%20Matter.txt (38 of 93) [1/16/03 6:47:37 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%20Alan%20Dean%20-%20Flinx%204%20-%
20The%20End%20Of%20The%20Matter.txt message screen. Then he pushed the
transcribe button. When she returned, her presence would activate the screen
machinery. His light images would be turned into voice and played aloud for
her.
Replacing the stylus, he turned to leave. Pocomchi caught him and nodded at
the doorway: "Listen."
Flinx obeyed. He heard something, then realized it was the message he had just
left. 'that meant
Mirable had to be in her apartment.
Why didn't she respond?
Experimentally, he placed a hand on the door and pushed. It slid back a few
centimeters into the wall. That didn't make sense either. If she was within,
surely she would have set the lock. Even on a relatively crime-free world-let
alone a boisterous planet like Alaspin - such a device was standard equipment,
built into the doorway of every commercial establishment.
The door continued to slide back under his pressure. He peered inward.
A voice called from behind him, "What's going on, Flinx?"
"Shut up."
Pocomchi was the sort of man who had broken limbs for less than that, but
something in Flinx's manner induced him to comply without protest. He
contented himself with watching the hotel entrance and the lift doors, while
keeping an eye on Ab.
Shoving the door all the way into the wall, F1inx noticed a dark spot near its
base. A thin stain indicated that a fluid-state switch had been shattered.
That tied in with the broken lock mechanism.
Slowly he walked into the room. Internal machinery detected his body heat and
brightened the chamber in greeting. It was decorated with the sort of items
one might expect to be chosen by a woman whose dreams were rapidly leaving her
behind. The flowers, the little-girl paraphernalia, a few stuffed animals on a
couch, all were nails desperately hammered into a door against which time
pressed relentlessly.
Then he saw the leg sticking out from behind the couch. The trussed body of
Mirable lay naked beyond. Most of the blood had already dried.
A vast coldness sucked at him as he kneeled over the rag-doll shape. One eye
stared blankly up past him. He put a hand up and closed it gently. The other
eye was missing. A look of uncomprehending, innocent horror was frozen on her
face. About that he could do nothing.
Why she had shielded him, as she apparently had, he could not imagine. Whether
out of some strange loyalty or the like, or out of pure stubbornness, she had
not talked immediately. That would please ordinary criminal types, but not the
Owarm. True sadism was not a luxury professionals could afford, and they had
done a professional job on her. But he did not understand why they had killed
her. It was almost as if her obstinacy bad irritated them.
Quickly he left the room and the body, surrounded by now- dead dreams. He
almost expected to see
Pocomchi and Ab lying dead across each other. But both were standing there, Ab
mumbling amiably to himself and Pocomchi waiting silently. The Indian said
nothing.
Flinx's gaze went immediately to the lift. He did not think anyone had seen
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
them enter the building; if they bad, he would not be standing here now.
"They're upstairs, I think," he told the expectant miner.
"I know where we can rent a skimmer now, if you've got the money," Pocomchi
told him.
"I've got the money." Flinx took a step toward the lift. Pocomchi caught his
arm, hard. Both minidrags stirred.
"You did me a right turn, back in the spin," the Indian said tightly. "Now
it's my turn." He jerked his head toward the lift and the floors above. "This
isn't the place or time. They've chosen both. When the time comes, we'll be
the ones who've done the planning."
Flinx stared at him for a long moment. Pocomchi stared back.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]