02. The Shadow Dancers (23 page)

I hadn't figured on this. I was on the run from the people who was supposed to help and support me while the people I was tryin' to check out still hadn't discovered me. Without Crockett I didn't have a way in to the Labyrinth or any way to contact Aldrath; they'd just keep sendin' progress reports from me out and everything would look real fine.

Thing was, this was now pretty clearly the place where the real action was, not no backwater joint. More than that, they knew from the start through Crockett's people that security knew about this place and they didn't seem to be slowin' down. Why should they? They was puttin' up a real nice front here, showin' Aldrath just what he wanted to see but not enough to get him to take any real direct action. That was bad, too, 'cause it meant more'n likely that they were very close to findin' what they were tryin' to find, or maybe they'd found it and were just makin' sure. This thing was both a drug and a disease; you don't let somethin' like that loose in alien worlds until you make sure you can't get it yourself.

I checked the area around my apartment. Normally you wouldn't see nothin', but I'd done a hundred stakeouts myself and I knew just what to look for. I was pretty sure they weren't in the apartment itself; the place was real close with nosy neighbors and paper-thin walls and if they got in for more than a visit they'd be noticed. This was one time in this world when it was a real advantage bein' black; the Crockett types wouldn't have no Spade & Marlowe to use, or wouldn't think to use 'em, and white PIs would stand out in
this
neighborhood. Of course, Siegel probably had loads of black gunsels to call on-the mob always was somethin' of an equal opportunity employer-so it paid to be careful.

There was a medium-sized black car parked with its lights out about half a block down from the apartment with two men in it. That was one. In the alley behind, where the fire escapes was, I thought I could see movement beyond the trash containers, like somebody shiftin' uncomfortable from the cold. If they didn't have nobody inside, though, I could probably just walk right in bold as brass. The problem would be if one of 'em was bright enough to figure out why that whore went in, I come out, and there was nobody else there. You got to be thin and light to be a second-story type, and I was neither. I turned and headed down to the district.

Harley squinted. "That really
you,
luv? I didn't know you was no lezzie. Not that it makes no difference here."

"I'm not, but it's a disguise," I told him. "My ex caught up with me and he's got an in with Siegel. I got to blow, Harley, but I can't get back in my darktown flat to get my money, my workin' clothes, or even my damned contact lenses and regular glasses." I told him about the place, and the stakeout.

"You got some money, then?"

"Some cash up there, and I put the rest of what I had in a local bank. That's what he's mad about. I got his money. And I can't get to it 'cause they figured out the name it was under, 'cause the flat's under that name, too." I never knew how important an automatic teller machine was till now, but first they had to invent the computer here, and a phone system where you didn't need no manual switchboard operators.

Harley chuckled. "Got the stash in a bank, huh? Well, let's see. I think I know a fella who might be able to get the small stuff out of your apartment, particularly if it's bein' watched. He likes that kind of thing. You make a list of stuff that can be carried in no more than a handbag. I'll make a call and see if he's interested. He keeps the cash, of course."

I nodded. "Okay, but then what do
I
do?"

"When he gets your checkbook, you write one out the way I tell you. Not to me, and not for a big amount, but some. How much you got in there?"

"Lots."

"Three hundred quid?"

"Yeah, more'n that."

"I can see why he's interested and why you laid low. Okay, you give me a check for three hundred and I give you two hundred. Fair?"

Of course it wasn't, but I was in no position to argue. "Fair."

"All right, then. You give me the address and particulars and we'll see what we can do."

I spent the night in a small room in back of his store, uncomfortably but it was a place to hide at least. I didn't wake up until well after noon, then blew some money buyin' some sandwiches from the clerk at the store. The clerk had been told I was stayin' there but not why. You don't go far askin' too many questions down here.

Harley come in about two, lookin' like the cat that just swallowed the canary, carryin' a shoppin' bag. In it was my glasses, contacts, checkbook, fake IDs, makeup, toiletries, and the rest. No cash and no clothes, but I coulda kissed him. I wrote the check and now had a fair amount of money for the time.

I had been tryin' to figure what to do next, and I pretty well decided I had only a couple choices. I could either give up, stay in this world, and go somewheres outside Wycliffe's territory and work the streets-I could never use the fake identity again, after all, so I had no education, no records, and I was a female member of a race that had thirty-percent unemployment here now-or I could keep goin'. This Deb was a way in, but a real risky one. I needed more than a one-night stand to get information, and my money was limited, so I needed an edge. On a crazy thought I checked out somethin' I never even thought of. Back when they did that dental work they loaded that tooth with shit that was supposed to make Vogel real nice, only I never got a chance to use it. I figured when they put my face back they took it out, but since now half my teeth was capped and they left 'em that way I decided to check. I scrunched up my mouth the way I was supposed to and pushed. The loaded tooth moved.

That was no guarantee they'd left it loaded, but maybe
the Center just hadn't noticed or known about it. It was worth a try. Of course, I didn't really know much about what it did or how long it lasted, but it couldn't hurt and might give me an edge.

I got some locals in the district to help. I needed to look different than this other Brandy even when I wasn't dressed like this and with dark glasses. When you never was able to have straight hair, and then you did, you didn't want to go back, but even though it broke my heart I had it cut real, real short and styled in a man's style. My face would never look like a man's or boy's, but it sure changed my looks. I hid the documents in a place that was as safe as any, and got a fresh wardrobe that, with the leather jacket, made me about as butch as they come. Private ownership of guns wasn't allowed and it woulda cost me more than I could raise to get one quick, but a nasty little needle-tipped switchblade with a real strong spring was only five quid if you knew where to get it, and after a few weeks down here, I knew. I had to still go with the blonde wig, and I just hoped nobody had second thoughts about the one there the night before or compared notes with the watchers on the apartment.

Thursday was a busier night, but other people was workin' the Purple Pussycat. Deb was in there, but out of uniform and in fairly ordinary street clothes, sittin' and talkin' to the barmaid. Even though she wasn't dressed like she belonged there, there was that hardness in the face and coldness in the mannerisms that everybody on the street got that said she was right at home. She came right over when I sat down in a small booth.

"Hello, there. Buy me a drink and watch the early show first?" she suggested, real friendly and professional. I had to wonder if she did this normally with girls or if this was a new experiment. Work in these joints long enough, though, and you see and do most everything.

The show started at eight-fifteen, and was pretty much the same as the night before but had one extra girl, another black girl more in keepin' with the other two and not my twin. This time I was ready for it and began to look at the others. There was just somethin' 'bout them, something different even from the other Brandy. Black, white, and
yellow, but they was almost the same height, they had near identical perfect builds, and their faces, while different, didn't seem all that much different. They all had the same noses, kinda, small and neat, and the same size mouths, and their eyes looked a little different but even the blonde had brown eyes. Their hair was different-the blonde's was shoulder-length and straight, the black girl's was short and curly, but big curls, not the natural type I normally had or that my twin still had, and the yellow girl had a pageboy with bangs. Still, one seemed no thicker or thinner than the other, and you could almost see any hairstyle on the other two.

Why fifty girls, all female, all just workin' the streets and clubs? Why no men? Why these fifty? Did most of 'em look kinda the same? Suppose all three of them up there had dark brown hair and golden skin . . .

They finished up and went to work the crowd, ignorin' us. Deb sighed, turned, and said, "My place or yours?"

"Yours," I told her. "Mine ain't exactly a nice place right now."

She lived in a room about a block in back of the place. It was a pretty run-down row house that had been made into little tiny apartments with just a tiny refrigerator, hot pot, and plug-in portable stove for cookin'. It was a little messy but it had that lived-in look. Odds were that Fast Eddie owned the place. I pulled out one of my few remainin' reefers and we split it, then started to get to it. The reefer had made it easier for me to turn tricks on the street and it made it easier to do this, too. It ain't bad and can be a lot of fun, but when you get all hot and up there ain't nothin' to put where you want or need it. I did manage to toggle that trick tooth and turn it some, and some sweet kinda liquid, not much, come out and got delivered into her mouth by tongue.

Took me a bit to realize she'd stopped doin' much and was just lettin' it happen with a dreamy smile on her face, eyes closed. I figured I might as well go for the whole nine yards. I started nibblin' her ear and whispered, "You love me, you want me, you need me, now and forever," which wasn't exactly how the whispers usually went. "All the men was just for money but this is the real thing. You'd do
anything for me, believe anything I said, trust me forever. Don't try to explain it or think about it, it just is and it's wonderful."

And she smiled, mumbled, and repeated it-and repeated it again. Suddenly her eyes opened, and she looked at me like it was for the first time, like the wonder in a little kid's face at a new toy, and then she really tore into it so passionately I just let it rip.

I didn't know how long the stuff would last, but it was
powerful
stuff all right, if you hadn't been immunized to it. It was hours before it stopped, and then she insisted on cookin' somethin' for me and generally actin' like a cross between a puppy dog and a little kid. "Might as well," I sighed, feelin' really achy. "I ain't got no place to go anyways."

She was startled. "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean I got fired and tossed, lock, stock, and barrel. I been walkin' the streets, sleepin' in women's flophouses, and watchin' my money go down."

"Stay here, then!"

"But-"

"Look, I know this sounds crazy, 'cause it does to me, but I think I'm in love with you. You don't owe me nothin'. I owe
you,
'cause I never thought I'd have this feelin' again." She was a mixed-race girl, mostly white but a noticeable quarter black, which was why I hit on her, but it was still kinda funny to hear her start talkin' like me.

"I like you, too," I told her, and I did. I felt sorry for her more than anything. "But ain't no way I can stay here without payin' some freight."

"It's okay. It wouldn't even be like you was the first one or only one around here like that. A lotta girls 'round here can't get close to no men. They all act alike under the skin. We lean on each other a lot. Maybe I can get Fast Eddie to find you a job 'round here."

Funny thing was, she did. To this day I ain't sure if that potion was strong or just a little temporary thing that worked as a starter set for what might already have been there in her head 'cause it seemed so natural for her. Of course, the potion made it quick and painless. By the time she took me 'round to meet Fast Eddie Small a couple of
days later I'd already kinda settled in and knew most of the girls in the house. And that's how I became Samantha "Sam" Marlowe, my third undercover identity. I ditched the wig and used the dark glasses, which I was gettin' used to even in dark places. I had the contacts but decided not to use 'em since they didn't have the real thin contacts here and I thought it was a little too much of an invite to compare faces with Brandy the Shadow Dancer.

Fast Eddie looked like a guy who sold furniture. Thin, mid-fifties, moustache, little gray eyes, balding and graying, always in a brown or gray tweed suit and real thin tie, usually with a cigar in his mouth. I was real nervous about meetin' him since he almost surely saw Brandy most times and also knew to look out for another with straight hair, but with gum in my mouth, a real Brandp manner, and dressed like I was it never seemed to enter his head. "I don't really need nobody so I can't do much," he told me, "but just 'cause it's Deb I'll make an exception. You'll help clean up the place after it closes, mop up, restock the bar, that kind of thing. Thirty a week for part-time on trial. After that, we'll see."

I took the job, and I was on the inside. The basic expenses for all the "employees" was taken care of, and they turned their money over to Small 'cept for twenty percent, although Deb as waitress made a flat eighty a week and got to keep ten percent of any fringes. Of course, she skimmed like they all did, so it wasn't too bad. It bothered me a little that I took so easy to the dominant role in the relationship, in bed, even on the street, but I learned a lot in a very little time.

There was six shadow dancers workin' the place and two more out at Siegel's. Small was married with two mostly grown kids and a house out of town. He didn't mistreat his string more than the usual, and he always had whatever drugs his "ladies" required on hand. About half of 'em was on smack, the other half took various stuff as it suited them. All but the shadow dancers. They lived together in a small set of rooms just above the club, and while you couldn't avoid 'em you didn't stay 'round them long. They seemed free to come and go days, and they did, but not far. Every day they'd do a run 'round a track at a junior high that had
closed down and was boarded up now. They bought and fixed their own food, and you could hear 'em up there sometimes exercisin' or liftin' weights or whatever, too. They was always real made-up, even for their runs, and that helped. Still, I tried to make sure that Brandy and Sam was never seen in the same room together again.