Finn's Golem (10 page)

It took me no more than half a second to realize that the sound was a knock at the door. It was morning, but only just. You could make an argument that I had been both lax and unprofessional, but I was not stupid. I had slept, but I had slept on top of the covers and with my pants on. Never let anyone surprise you in the nude. You’ll spend so much energy trying to protect your flapping extremities that
you won’t have a hope in hell.

When the knock came, I was out of bed in an instant, bare feet on the floor and the GAT in my hand. I had my thumb resting on the safety but I held off, preferring total silence.

Claire raised her head from the pillow still in a fog, not having slept nearly long enough. She was still naked, and seemed confused as she looked up at me. The knock came again, and this time a voice came with it.

“Miss Marsland?” it called. It was thin and pimply. No substance behind it, though there could easily have been two more impressive baritones standing behind the speaker. I padded over to the door in silence, the GAT in my right hand, signaling with my left as best I could for Claire to vamp a response.

“Miss Marsland? I have a message for you.” I looked out the peep-hole. There was only one person in sight, a thin, weasel-faced kid of about twenty in a hotel uniform. I couldn’t see either side of the door, but he didn’t look left or right, and I didn’t buy him as poker-faced enough to pull that off if he wasn’t alone. But still... I slid the chain-lock off without a sound.

“J-just a moment
,
” Claire called behind me
,
“ju
s
t a moment, I’m not decent.”

It was a good stall, but I could hear her behind me and knew she was going for the robe, not the gun under her pillow. Just like a woman. She was beautiful and fierce and clever and willing as hell, but not the kind to meet her destiny in the buff. Just as well, I knew nothing of her skills with a pistol and didn’t want to get shot in the back this morning if I could help it at all. I would have to move quickly.

I threw the door open and broke the kid’s nose with the butt of my gun. That knocked him back about a foot
,
and gave me clearance to sweep the hall on either side, satisfy myself that Tweedle-dee here was alone
,
and haul him into the room by his hair.

He still hadn’t had a chance to protest properly when I threw him bodily into the bathroom and brought my bare foot up into his groin as hard as I could. He made not one sound, but the breath left his body as if it might never return. I took a fistful of his hair again and brought his face down against the edge of the bathroom counter twice, leaving a smear of blood on the cool, white surface.

A moment earlier he had been standing in the hallway, sure of his safety and confident in his mission. Now he was on the bathmat and I had satisfied three of the four criteria for a successful launch of hostile negotiations. He was hurt, he would continue to feel worse for the next several minutes at least even if I took no further action, and he had seen his own blood in a dramatic fashion. I pushed him into the shower stall to complete the picture – he was now in a space that was easily cleaned if you had to put a hole in him. It was just as well, since I had clearly tagged him in the groin with some ferocity, and he began to vomit.

I turned the water on him, partly to get his attention and partly to wash away the stink of bile. I left it nice and cold. Nobody wanted to die cold and wet. He threw up a few more times, until he was obviously just heaving on reflex.

“That’s enough
,”
I said
.

He started to lift his head to protest. I shoved the Double-Z’s barrel in his face and flipped the safety off. This was why I had waited. The gun made a deeply satisfying whirr as its plasma generators powered up. It spoke more eloquently that I could possibly have done.

Claire appeared at the door, clutching her robe at the neck, the Monitor in her other hand. There was a lot of leg on display, but I had taken a very good look only a few hours earlier and my friend with the gun up his nose seemed a little too preoccupied to notice. I smiled at her. She seemed alarmed for some reason.

The whole exchange had taken thirty seconds. Opportunity had knocked and we had taken a piece, even if he was only a pawn.

“Oh God
,” the
pawn said, sobbing a little
.

“Shut up
,”
I ordered. I didn’t really want him to shut up,
and
I knew he wouldn’t be able to anyway. He was too frightened. He would blubber and plead and think at the same time that I might kill him for defying me, but he would be unable to help himself. It would help to free him from the illusion that he had any control over what was about to happen.

It took almost six seconds for him to speak again, which was five seconds longer than I thought it would.

“Please
,” he
said through his tears
,
“
please
, I’m just the desk clerk.”

“Drake
,”
Clare said. I noticed that we were on a post-coital first name basis, but other than that I ignored her. She was trying to call me off and she was dead wrong.

“You’re the desk clerk
,”
I said. It was not a question. This was intentional, as it would force him to wonder if he should answer me or not. He blubbered and nodded, which was an interesting compromise. I smacked him across the puss with the GAT, just in case he thought he was clever. He did not seem to.

“Drake, for God’s sake!” Claire protested.

“Does anyone know that you’re here?” I asked her
.
“Anyone back in New Coast?”

“No
,”
she answered, beginning to understand.

“Then who could have sent you a message?” I asked her.

“But how is that his fault?”

The man in the shower was panting less, perhaps sensing he had an advocate. I threw him backwards against the wall of the shower stall and raised the GAT as if I meant to kill him then and there. He flailed and wept anew.

“All messages are logged
,”
I said
.
“All calls are recorded. He’s not even supposed to confirm that you’re staying here. He knew damn well what he was doing wasn’t right. What did you get for it, kid?”

The punk didn’t answer at first. There is a fine art to flexing your finger on something as sensitive as the trigger of a plasma cannon in such a way that it can be seen from a distance without risking taking someone’s face off at an inopportune moment. I appeared to have the knack, because he squealed and threw his hands out in front of him in a useless defensive gesture.

“Five hundred!” he shrieked.

“Five hundred?” I asked, amused
.
“Wasn’t worth it, was it
,
kid?”

He shook his head.

“Let me see it
.
”

He seemed confused
.

“Let me see it!”

He pulled five bills from his pocket with a trembling hand and said nothing.

“Tear it up
,”
I ordered him.

He did it. It took a second, but he did it. The pieces floated in the water at the bottom of the stall and started to clog up the drain.

“They wanted to know if she was still staying here.”

He nodded.

“You told them she was.”

He nodded.

“You give them a room number?”

He nodded again. The kid was getting good at this.

“Did they ask you if there was any way out of here but the front door?”

He looked a little amazed and nodded again.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“All other exits are opened only by a fire alarm or general security alert. The main lobby door is the only way out.”

I turned off the shower. He looked back and forth a little frantically, as if uncertain if this welcome development was quite as positive as he wished it to be. Good to keep them guessing.

“So what was the message?” I asked.

“W-what?”
He
seemed surprised.

“Did they actually give you a message, or were you just supposed to see if she was in her room?”

“They gave me a message. They invited Miss Marsland and her gentleman friend to breakfast.” His tone seemed accusatory. I made a note to fix that later.

“Breakfast?”

“Yes
,
sir.” Ah. Now that was just plain snotty. I kicked him in the face, but not as hard as I could have. Claire said nothing. That was a positive sign. She might still think I was a psychopath, but at least I was her psychopath and that was something.

“Breakfast where?” I asked politely.

“What?”

“We were invited to breakfast
,”
I said
.

“Yes.”

“Where were we to go? For breakfast
,”
I said patiently
.

“Kemble’s... on Ivory Lane, just past the Avenue of Martyrs.” The kid had no idea what to make of me at this point. I found this good.

“A of M and Ivory, huh? Sounds pricey.”

“Yes
,
sir.”

“Good breakfast?”

“I
-
I don’t know sir. Would you like me to find out?”

“No, Sparky. I would like you to sit still until I have decided whether or not to shoot you.”

He whimpered. I moved my head just enough to indicate that I was talking to Claire and not him.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

“Do I think you should-”

“No, I’ll make the call on who I shoot all by myself, thanks. I was asking about breakfast. Are you hungry?”

“Famished. Is there any other compelling reason why we should attend?”

“I doubt they intended to give us much of a choice
,”
I said and turned back to the kid. “Who paid you?” I demanded
.

“What?” he said.

“Son, you really need to work on your attention span. Someone gave you five hundred credits to sell out one of your guests and then carry a message. Who was it?”

“He... he didn’t leave his name.”

“I didn’t think he would. What did he look like?”

“He was a dark-haired man in a black jacket.”

“A windbreaker?”

“I don’t know... sure, I guess so.”

“Did he leave?”

“Yes
,” the
kid answered. I kicked him again, harder this time.

“You were doing so well, too
,”
I said
.
“Then you had to go and piss me off. They asked if there was any way out of here besides the main doors. Are they in the lobby or out front?”

“They’re out front.” He blubbered all over again
.
“In a black Hov. Waiting.”

“They going to kill us or follow us?” I asked
.

“They didn’t say.”

“Nice.” I turned back to Claire. “There it is. Looks like we weren’t meant to have much choice. They’d rather not take us in the hotel, or even on the street in daylight. But they’re not going to let us get away either.”

“So what do we do?” she asked.

“Well, first we do this
,”
I said, bringing the butt of my gun down against the kid’s head as hard as I could. He fell forward. I dragged his face out of the puddle of water on the floor of the stall and turned it sideways so he wouldn’t drown.

“Why did you do that?” she asked
.

“Because the only alternative was to kill him, and I didn’t feel like it. He’ll be out for a good while, and he’ll never talk about what happened because what he did is more than enough to get him black-balled from every hotel in Bountiful. The Ironwood would probably sue him too.”

“You don’t really have to justify not killing him to me.”

“Oh
,”
I said, a little surprised
.

“Now what?”

I pushed past her and started throwing the rest of my clothes on.

“Get dressed
,”
I said
.
“Whatever you’ve got that you can travel fast in. And the most practical shoes you brought.”

“Should I pack?” she
asked.

“Do you want to carry your luggage if we need to run for our lives?” I asked.

“No
,”
she said.

“Then don’t pack. Wear layers. We might not get back here for a couple of days.”

“But we
are
coming back?” she asked
.