Cut Off (8 page)

"Have—? Christ, no, man. I'm just going to ask it a few questions."

Sprite regarded him for a long moment. "Are you still joking?"

"Not in the slightest." Ness leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What I am about to divulge is extremely sensitive information. Can I trust you to keep it secret?"

"If you're as scary as you're trying to make yourself sound? Absolutely."

"I belong to an organization dedicated to locating their technology. To study it and to keep it out of the claws of the enemy. If they're operating in this area, we need to know about it."

"You're alien treasure hunters?" Sprite laughed. "That's so...cool."

"Most days it's a pain in the ass. So do you know where they keep the squid or not?"

"What kind of hustler would I be if I didn't? Question is, what am I to receive for this information?"

"Didn't I already earn you a fortune?"

"Sure," he said, "but what have you done for me
lately
?"

"What about not getting butchered by galactic horrors? How does that grab you?" Ness folded his hands in front of his mouth. Somewhere outside, a man shouted, but Ness couldn't tell if it was in pleasure or pain. "I'm not about to throw a laser gun in your lap. But if you point me to this alien, and it pays off in a lead, I might be able to get you a tricorder."

"A tricorder."

"That's just what we call them," Ness said, hastily amending his lie. "Walkie talkies we've put together with their batteries. As far as we know, they last forever."

"You did just make me a bundle." Sprite rubbed his jaw and the patchy stubble on his chin. "You get me one of these tricorders, and I'll get you to your monster."

"You get your payment after I get my lead."

He let out a dramatic sigh. "Smart dude like you should have been able to guess. They keep the alien in one of the vaults." He got up and went to the nightstand to fetch the hotel notepad and pen. "Not some crazy
Ocean's Eleven
nuke shelter vault, mind you. I think they used to use it for clients' valuables. Much easier to get inside than where they kept their
own
money."

He bent over the pad and sketched away. "This is where we are now. Here's the arena. Over here are the entries to the service tunnels. You got an elevator, which you probably want to avoid, and a stairwell. Feeds out here. You hook a right at this junction and it'll lead you straight to the vault."

"Is it guarded?" Ness said.

"It wouldn't be much of a vault if it needed a guard."

"Then it's locked. Spare me, I know—wouldn't be much of a vault without a lock."

"Some of the electronics are down," Sprite said. "But yeah. It's a vault."

Ness held out his hand for the sketch. "Thanks for this. We'll go take a look. If there's anything worth our while, I'll swing by the House of the Lion with your compensation."

Sprite looked as if he might press for more, then handed over the map. "Good luck."

Ness folded it away and headed downstairs. The hour was on its way to midnight but it still hadn't cooled any. Cost of doing business in the tropics. If they were ever done with this business, he thought he'd move to Alaska. He returned once again to the parking garage.

"If we're careful, it shouldn't be any trouble," he explained. "Sneak downstairs, bust a lock or two, and interrogate away."

"Yes. Interrogate."

"What do you think they're doing here?"

"Don't know."

"You must have a guess."

"I guess?" Sebastian said, not bothering with the small connective gestures that served to clarify the sign language's grammar. He turned toward the window to look upon the casino. "Turning human greed against you. Now show me map."

Ness handed it over. "I figure we scout tonight and go in tomorrow. Real late."

"Wrong. Go now." Still holding the map in one of his delicate pincers, Sebastian scuttled from the cars toward the stairwell.

"We can't go charging in like a herd of bulls!"

"We won't. You will disguise me. Think quickly."

Ness grunted in frustration and skipped ahead of him to make sure the stairwell was clear. This was a habit of Sebastian's, striding ahead before they'd had time to hammer out the details. It wasn't that he was thoughtlessly impulsive. It was some damned philosophical stance. Sebastian believed, quite insanely, that they walked a just path. That they were in pursuit of what the universe wanted done to reach a more perfect harmony. Thus the universe would unfold favorably toward their goals.

In theory, it was a lot like the "God will provide" Christians who refused to prepare for disasters, buy house insurance, or treat their kids' illnesses. In practice, it meant Ness was forced to take the universe's responsibility on his shoulders and scramble like crazy to make sure Sebastian didn't wind up shot, gutted, and strapped to the hood of a car.

Ness exited the stairwell and made a quick sweep of the ground floor. While he was on his way back, Sebastian emerged from the stairs and veered north. With human voices carrying drunkenly not two hundred yards away, Sebastian did his version of a tip-toe through the grass and thick shrubs growing along the shoulder of the road. Thus hidden, sort of, he followed the road west toward the white wings of the hotel.

They stopped even with the eastern flank of the building. Sebastian concealed himself in a thick grove of ginkgos. An open stretch of unkempt yard separated them from the hotel.

"Do you have the idea?" Sebastian signed

Ness nodded. "It's a disgrace to both of us. But it's a plan."

"Make it so."

Ness walked across the grass to a side entrance, which was locked, then strolled to the main entry to the east wing of the hotel. He slipped inside. The lobby was lit by two bare bulbs and appeared to be empty. Following Sprite's instructions, he located the service elevator and confirmed the stairwell was unlocked.

Back at the lobby, he used the signs, which were spelled out in Chinese, English, and what he thought was Portuguese, to navigate to the guest rooms. Faint sex sounds emanated from closed doors. He found an unlocked and vacant room. Forcing himself not to think too hard about what he was doing, he stripped a sheet off the king size bed and nabbed the ironing board from the closet. Last, he grabbed up the coffee mugs and a tray from the kitchen and wrapped them in the sheet. He brought his equipment outside to the copse of ginkgos where Sebastian waited.

"This is so ridiculous," he muttered.

Sebastian lowered himself to a deep crouch. Ness settled the ironing board over the alien's narrow back and Sebastian secured it with a pair of tentacles. He flung the sheet over Sebastian with a whoomp and spent a minute arranging it over the alien's limbs until it looked less like a sheet draped over a space monster and more like a serving cart. To complete the illusion, Ness set the coffee tray and mugs on its top.

"Can you 'hear' me?" Ness signed.

Sebastian stuck one tentacle from the sheet, rolled the end into a ball, and stuck up its tip: his version of a thumbs up.

Ness went to the back of the ironing board and gave it a slight push. Sebastian moved forward on so many different limbs that the "cart" appeared to roll with perfect smoothness. Ness guided him to the paved path across the yard, then got next to the building and followed its walkway to the front. He "parked" Sebastian next to the glass doors and pulled one open.

A man walked out from inside. He glanced at Ness and muttered something in Chinese. Ness nodded. The man glanced at the serving table and continued toward the casino. Ness checked inside, then got around back of Sebastian and nudged him through the doors.

They reached the staircase without bumping into another soul. Ness opened the door and Sebastian "rolled" onto the landing. Ness got out a small metallic bulb attached to a ring, fit it around his little finger, and pushed its button. Light shined down the stairwell. Other than the lasers, the light-ring was his favorite piece of alien tech. It was so useful he didn't understand why people had never invented one.

Ness took the lead. Sebastian descended behind him. His costume was beginning to come askew; he now resembled more of a cubist ghost than a serving cart. At the bottom of the stairs, Ness scouted ahead, then returned for Sebastian and brought him past the junction to the vault. Ness' ring was the only source of light. It glinted on the brushed steel door blocking the way.

Sebastian swept off his sheet and examined the locks. One was electronic, but with the juice cut, it wouldn't be an issue. The two analog ones were formidable hunks of steel. Before Ness had time to protest, Sebastian produced a laser and slagged them.

The room beyond smelled like burnt metal and tide pools. Ness glared at Sebastian and stepped over the molten metal droplets. His light shined on a nightmare: an alien in chains. One was yoked around its neck. They lacked wrists and ankles, but its minders had located other joints to secure the chains around. Its wounds were untreated and the blood had coagulated into an orange-brown crust. The fighter glanced at Ness, then gestured to Sebastian, who replied brusquely.

Between the poor lighting and his poorer grasp of their native language, Ness had no chance to keep up. "What's happening?"

"Interrogation," Sebastian signed distractedly. "Negotiation."

He and the warrior exchanged a flurry of signs. Though Ness was unable to interpret more than a handful, he thought he could read the fighter's body language. It looked anxious, but there was something else behind its worry. Something like guile.

After an extended argument, Sebastian drew back. "It wants out."

"Did you expect otherwise?" Ness replied.

"Don't be rude. I am attempting to consult you."

He flushed. "Make a deal. There's something funny going on in this island."

Sebastian nodded, which was always a laugh, given his bug eyes and spindly neck, and turned back to his counterpart. As he resumed the conversation, the other alien became more still, attentive.

A shoe scraped behind them. Ness whirled. Behind him, Sprite threw open his hands in surrender. Then he saw Sebastian completely free of chains and his elbows sagged downward.

"Holy shit," he said. "You're
working
with them?"

Ness drew his laser and aimed it at Sprite's chest.

5

Alden gazed across the wreckage of the Fallback Shack. "Please tell me this was a bear."

Tristan's hands trembled. "Not unless someone built the Maui Zoo when we weren't looking. And let the bears free."

"Any chance it was dogs?"

She stepped through the scattered leaves stripped from the chain link. "Tell me you don't really think dogs tore down the fence. And the walls. Or I may have to start accepting applications for a new brother."

"I know it wasn't dogs," he said softly. "I just don't want it to be what it is."

She unholstered her pistol and checked the safety. "I'm going for a look around. If you see anyone, you holler. Got me?"

He nodded and got out his gun, holding it a few inches from his hip. "You too."

She walked uphill from the site, stepping carefully to avoid rustling the grass and leaves, scanning the ferns and limbs for movement. She didn't expect to see anyone. The destruction of the Fallback Shack spoke for itself.

Tristan walked in a wide circle, alone with the breeze and the peeps of birds she couldn't see. Halfway through her circuit, downhill from the site, she heard something crinkling in the grass. As she approached, the sound silenced. A football-sized bundle of fur romped from the grass, filthy and white. A shredded bag of Doritos dangled from the shih tzu's mouth. Its hair was tangled and clumped. At the sight of it eating their food, a senseless rage rose in Tristan's chest. She stamped her feet to scare it off before she did something she would later regret.

Food and supplies were scattered across the hillside. Much had been torn apart by animals or opened up and dumped in the dirt. Of the supplies, everything expendable and valuable (such as bullets) had been taken, but most had been tossed aside with the food and water.

She finished her circuit and returned to the wreckage. Alden knelt over the splinters of a piece of plywood. As he heard her steps, he snapped up his head, then relaxed.

"Found some footprints," he said. "Hard to tell which is ours and which is theirs. Why would someone do this?"

"To threaten us. Why else?"

"I thought you worked it out. Paid their stupid tax."

"I did," she said. "Obviously, that was just the beginning. Since I can guess how this ends, I think I'll skip right to it."

He scrunched his eyebrows together. "By killing the Guardians, you mean. I suppose you expect me to stay home?"

"Let me do what I do best."

She turned and headed back for the house, trailed by Alden. Her anger mounted with each step, consuming and destroying every other thought until there was nothing but itself. She hadn't felt so resolved since her long hunt for Alden. This thought gave birth to a second emotion: gratitude. For everything she had been through—which had made her capable of what she had to do next.

Back home, she went inside the bathroom. In the mirror, the deep tan of her face surprised her. She got out a pair of scissors and turned her head for a better view, holding the nub of her index finger out of the way of the blades.

Alden moved into the doorway, lurking like one of the wooden moai at Sands. "Don't you think this is a little sudden?"

She extended a lock of hair and snipped it close to the scalp. She dropped the dark strand in the trash. "This is a threat. There's no mistaking it. You know where it goes from here. If we choose to stay, we then have the choice to kneel down—or to resist a much larger group. Probably, that means we die. No one's going to care. No one's going to save us. And
that
means I get to them now. Before things have escalated. Before they're prepared to fight at the same level."

"I thought you were more careful than that. More creative."

Tristan stopped the scissors mid-cut. "What else can we do, Alden?"