Idoru

42. Checking Out

Chia looked out and saw that the rain had stopped. Beyond the chainlink fence, the parking lot was full of small, unmoving figures holding candles. A few of them were standing on the tops of the trucks parked there, and there seemed to be more on the roof of the low building behind. Girls. Japanese girls. All of them seemed to be staring at the Hotel Di.

The big man was telling Rez that someone had announced that he’d died, that he’d been found dead in this hotel, and it was out on the net and was being treated like it had really happened.

The Russian had produced his own phone now and was talking to someone in Russian. “Mr. Lor-ess,” he said, lowering the phone, “we are hearing police come. This nanotech being heavily proscribed, is serious problem.”

“Fine,” Rez said. “We have a car in the garage.”

Someone nudged Chia’s elbow. It was Masahiko, handing her her bag. He’d put her Sandbenders in it and zipped it up; she could tell by the weight. He had his computer in the plaid bag. “Put your shoes on now,” he said. His were already on.

Eddie was curled into a knot on the carpet; he’d been like that since the Russian had kicked him. Now the Russian took a step toward him again and Chia saw Maryalice cringe, where she sat beside Eddie on the carpet.

“You are lucky man,” the Russian said to Eddie. “We are honoring our agreement. Isotope to be delivered. But we are wanting no more the business with you.”

There was a click, and another, and Chia watched as the big man with no left ear folded his axe, collapsing it smoothly into itself without looking at it. ‘That thing you’re holding is a heavy crime, Rozzer. Your fan-club turnout’s bringing the police. Better let me be in possession.“

Rez looked at the big man. “I’ll carry it myself, Keithy.”

Chia thought she saw a sudden sadness in the big man’s eyes. “Well then,” he said. “Time to go.” He slipped the folded weapon inside his jacket. “Come on, then. You two.” Gesturing Chia and Masahiko toward the door. Rez followed Masahiko, the Russian close behind him, but Chia saw that the room key was on top of the little fridge. She ran over and grabbed it. Then she stopped, looking down at Maryalice.

Maryalice’s mouth, with her lipstick gone, looked old and sad. It was a mouth that must’ve been hurt a lot, Chia thought. “Come with us,” Chia said.

Maryalice looked at her.

“Come on,” Chia said. “The police are coming.”

“I can’t,” Maryalice said. “I have to take care of Eddie.”

“Tell your Eddie,” Blackwell said, reaching Chia in two steps, “that if he whines to anyone about any of this, he’ll be grabbed and his shoe size shortened.”

But Maryalice didn’t seem to hear, or if she did, she didn’t look up, and the big man pulled Chia out of the room, closed the door, and then Chia was following the back of the Russian’s tan suit down the narrow corridor, his fancy cowboy boots illuminated by the ankle-high light-strips.

Rez was stepping into the elevator with Masahiko and the Russian when the big man caught his shoulder. “You’re staying with me,” he said, shoving Chia into the elevator.

Masahiko pushed the button. “You are having vehicle?” the Russian asked Masahiko.

“No,” Masahiko said.

The Russian grunted. His cologne was making Chia’s stomach turn over. The door opened on the little lobby. The Russian pushed past her, looking around. Chia and Masahiko followed. The elevator door closed. “Looking for vehicle,” the Russian said. “Come.” They followed him through the sliding glass door, into the parking area, where Eddie’s Graceland seemed to take up at least half the available space. Beside it was a silver-gray Japanese sedan, and Chia wondered if that was Rez’s. Someone had put black plastic rectangles over the license plates of both cars.

She heard the glass door hiss open again and turned to see Rez coming out, the nanotech unit tucked beneath his arm like a football. The big man was behind him.

Then a really angry man in a shiny white tuxedo burst through the pink plastic strips that hung down across the entrance. He had a smaller man by the collar of his jacket, and the smaller man was trying to get away. Then the smaller man saw them there and shouted “Blackwell!” and actually managed to slip right out of his jacket, but the man in the white tuxedo reached out with the other hand and caught him by the belt.

The Russian was yelling in Russian now and the man in the white tuxedo seemed to see him for the first time. He let go of the other man’s belt.

“We’ve got the van,” the other man said.

The big man with the missing ear stepped up really close to the man in the white tuxedo, glared at him, and took the other man’s jacket. “Okay, Rozzer,” he said, turning to Rez. “You know the drill this one. Old hat. Same as leaving that house in St. Kilda with the bastard Melbourne tabs outside, right?” He draped the jacket over Rez’s head and shoulders, slapped him encouragingly on the upper arm. He walked over to the pink strips and drew one aside, looking out. “Fucking hell,” he said. “Right then, all of you. It’s move fast, stay together, Rez in the center, and into the van. On my count of three.”