Synaptic Manhunt

Mick Farren

Synaptic Manhunt

Mayflower

Granada Publishing Limited

First published in 1976 by Mayflower Books Ltd Frogmore, St Albans, Herts AL2 2NF

A Mayflower Original

Copyright (c) Mick Farren 1976

Made and printed in Great Britain by Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press) Ltd Bungay, Suffolk

Set in Linotype Plantin

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This book is published at a net price and is supplied subject to the Publishers Association Standard Conditions of Sale registered under the Restrictive Trade Practices Act, 1956.

The total silence was only broken by the soft slow dripping of the water clock. The high, narrow room was lit by a solitary candle, and far corners of the dull stone walls were hidden in darkness. The room was bare and austere, but it had an atmosphere of absolute calm. There was no furniture apart from the iron stand that held the candle, the glass water clock on its wooden bench and a small raised dais in the very centre of the room. The dais was covered with a coarse-weave straw mat.

A figure sat on the dais. It was shrouded in a plain black robe, its legs were crossed and its hands lay in its lap with the fingers interlaced in a complicated pattern. Although the candle was placed directly in front of the figure, its head was sunk between the shoulders in such a way that the face was obscured by shadow. From the width of the shoulders, and the supple, powerful hands, which were clearly illuminated by the candle, it was obvious that the figure was that of a male.

The name of the male was Jeb Stuart Ho, although, right at that moment in time, Jeb Stuart Ho hardly existed. His pulse was down to the absolute minimum that would sustain life. His body temperature had reduced by half and his lungs hardly stirred. Except for his upright, crosslegged posture, the lay observer would have assumed him to be dead. But Jeb Stuart Ho was alive. The physical state that he was in was self-induced. He would, however, certainly die within a comparatively short time unless roused by some outside force. The art of terminal meditation was one that was slowly and painfully learned. Once the individual had reached that state there was no release from it except a sharp tap on the shoulder by another who was practised in the same skills.

Being so close to death and so dependent on outside help might have terrified any normal person. Jeb Stuart Ho was beyond terror. He knew nothing, although, at the same time, according to his philosophy, he knew everything. He was in a world that few people outside the temple ever visited. It was beyond the scope of language, beyond emotion and far past the reach of sight, taste, smell or touch.

A door at the far end of the room opened softly. Another man in a black robe entered and walked silently towards Jeb Stuart Ho on sandalled feet. He halted in front of the seated figure, and almost ritualistically took a short polished stick of hard dark wood out of his sleeve. He paused for a moment, and then struck a swift, light blow on Jeb Stuart Ho’s shoulder. He stepped back and waited.

At first, nothing happened, and then the still figure made a soft noise. Jeb Stuart Ho was drawing air into his lungs. At first it was tiny amounts and his body scarcely moved. Then his chest began gradually to rise and fall as he sucked in deeper breaths. Finally, he completely filled his lungs, and began to raise his head. The mind of Jeb Stuart Ho seemed to float upwards. First into a place where it was warm, then sound invaded the comfortable area, the sighing of his blood as it slowly began to circulate through his veins. The pulse of his heart started, up, softly and in wide-spaced intervals at first, but then quickening and getting louder. His sense of touch came alive. He could feel the pressure of his body on the coarse mat beneath him. He was aware of the texture of the robe that covered his body. He knew that his mouth was dry and that his stomach would shortly begin to demand food. He rose towards the light. He opened his eyes, and an image of the dim room rushed in with dazzling brilliance.

Jeb Stuart Ho silently regarded the man standing in front of him. He was slimmer and younger than Ho, little more than a boy. His face was smooth and expressionless. Jeb Stuart Ho matched this first rush of sensation, which came after the deep meditation, with his memory. The boy was Nah Duc West. His pupil, his servant in the temple and his lover.

No spoken greeting was necessary between the two men. Ho simply stretched out his hand and touched the younger man. Then he rose to his feet and walked purposefully out of the room. The young man followed him.

The door of the meditation room led out into a high-ceilinged corridor. It was made from the same dull black stone as the walls of the room. The corridor was illuminated by glowing spheres set in the walls at regular intervals.

They walked down the perfectly straight corridor for some minutes until they came to a pair of double doors, decorated with elaborate carvings and flanked by two more figures in black robes. They appeared to recognize Jeb Stuart Ho, and stepped back, pushing the doors open. Once again, there was a trace of ritual in their action. Beyond the carved doors was a huge, brightly lit circular room. It had a domed ceiling that glowed with the same steady light as the globes.

The room was a hive of activity. Along one section of the curved stone wall, a line of black-robed figures sat on high stools, bent over desks and drawing tables that were littered with charts, graphs, columns of figures and computer printouts. Another long section of wall was taken up by a huge display screen where coloured lights and curved lines slowly shifted position. On a vast plan table in the centre of the room, more black-clothed figures moved transparent overlays with lines and points of colour drawn on them, similar to those on the display screen.

The most intense activity was centred round another section of the curved wall that took up nearly a third of the total circumference. The section was covered with a soft translucent ribbed material. The ribs ran vertically from the floor to the start of the domed ceiling. It bulged out slightly, and occasionally undulated. Behind the material there was a soft green glow that also moved and shifted. Some patches grew brighter, and others dimmed. The crowd of black robes that clustered round it were stroking the surface of the soft wall section with their hands. Their palms and fingertips moved in definite, precise patterns. Occasionally one of them would carefully insert a long fine silver needle into the material. The operations appeared to involve a high degree of skill.

The domed room was the heart of the entire temple. It was here that Jeb Stuart Ho’s brothers carried on the eternal work. It was here that they monitored the progress of the various cultures that flourished in the sundered world that remained after the breakdown.

Over the centuries since the natural laws had ceased to be consistent and human life had clung to areas where artificial stasis could be generated, the brothers had worked single-mindedly on their never-ending task. They had observed and recorded the smallest event in the hundred thousand communities that survived in among the grey nothings. The most insignificant happening was plotted into their charts and included in their calculations. There was a saying among the brothers that even the fall of a sparrow was worthy of inclusion in their graphs, the graphs that charted the passage of past events and from which the brothers made their predictions for the future.

Jeb Stuart Ho had only been in the huge room four times before, but he fully understood the meaning of the coloured points and lines. Years of study in the seminary had equipped him to recognize and appreciate the meanings of the curves. The uphill struggle of the society seeking material progress, the plateau form of the stable culture, the clear straight lines of the stuff beam cities in the central ring, the elegant curve down to decadence. Jeb Stuart Ho could read the subtleties of history in the sudden variations of each curve. He could recognize the sudden termination that meant that disruption had hit a unit of civilization.

Jeb Stuart Ho stood in the doorway of the domed room. Slowly and discreetly his eyes moved across its mysteries. His gaze stopped at the ribbed, undulating section of wall. It was the outside face of the beast. The living meditation that made the efforts of the brotherhood possible. He stared at it in reverence and awe. It was the whole centre and meaning of the temple. The bio-cybernetic mass of circuits and organic life was both master and servant. It computed the patterns from which the brothers made their predictions. It gave early warning of progressions that could become critical, and it ordered the brothers when and where to make their executive interventions.

To Jeb Stuart Ho it was the centre point of his existence. It was the permanence of the state that he could only achieve by terminal meditation. He admired the brothers who caressed the beast, the ones whose silver needles penetrated its transparent hide. He respected the skills with which they transferred information and instruction to and from the huge thinking unit.

He admired and respected them, but he didn’t envy them. He had his own skills. He was, after all, an executive of the brotherhood. His training was just as awesome.

One of the black figures bent over the expanse of plan table straightened, detached itself from the group and approached Jeb Stuart Ho. The face above the black robe was that of a very old man. The skin was pink and soft like a baby’s, terribly wrinkled and totally without hair. The eyes, however, had the look of purposeful calm that was common to all of the brothers.

The old man halted in front of Jeb Stuart Ho and bowed. Jeb Stuart Ho returned the bow.

‘I have prepared, Teacher.’

The old man nodded gravely.

‘And you are ready?’

His voice had none of the weakness or quaver that normally come with great age. Jeb Stuart Ho looked straight at the old man.

‘I am ready, Teacher.’

The teacher raised in eyebrow and smiled gently.

‘You are very certain for one who faces his first intervention.’

‘All my training has led me to this point, and will carry me far beyond it.’

The teacher’s eyes twinkled.

‘So should you fail, the fault will lie in your training?’

Jeb Stuart Ho stood stiffly.

‘I will not fail, Teacher.’

‘You don’t even know the details of the task that awaits you, Jeb Stuart Ho.’

‘I will not fail.’

‘As I said before, you are very confident.’

‘An individual must not allow a false humility to cloud the knowledge of himself.’

‘And you believe you have knowledge of your own readiness?’

‘I know I am ready.’

‘Suppose you were in error when you made this analysis of yourself?’

‘If I was in error I would not be ready for the task.’

The teacher nodded.

‘Then it must be the time for your instruction in the labours you have to perform.’

He took Jeb Stuart Ho by the arm, and led him back towards the carved doors.

‘We will go to my chamber.’

The teacher led the way past the two impassive attendants, and back down the stone corridor. He halted before a door, opened it and ushered Jeb Stuart Ho inside. The room was similar to the one in which Jeb Stuart Ho had meditated. The water clock stood against the wall, the single candle burned in its holder. In this room, however, two raised daises stood side by side. Jeb Stuart Ho stood beside one of them until the teacher had seated himself. Then he too sat down, automatically crossing his legs and lacing his fingers in an attitude of meditation. There was a long pause while the teacher stared straight forward, apparently studying the water clock. Jeb Stuart Ho summoned energy to preserve his patience. Despite all his training he was still eager to learn about the task. At last the teacher spoke.

‘We are required once again to intervene in the affairs of the world outside. Once again their pattern traces a path towards disaster.’

‘I am eager to learn my part.’

The teacher continued to stare straight ahead.

‘The loaf baked in eagerness will lie heavily in the pan. A wise man will not eat of it, lest he break his teeth.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed his head in submission. He knew he stood corrected. There was another long pause before the teacher spoke again. The water clock dripped softly.

‘The task you are being set will not be simple. It can be a heavy load. Your back must be strong enough to bear it.’

This time, Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing. The teacher continued.

‘The probability has almost reached maximum that large areas of the rim, and to a lesser extent the inner sectors, will disrupt.’

He paused, and again Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing.

‘The result of this disruption will be twofold. A state of war will occur which will escalate unchecked until the antagonized will begin to destroy their opponents’ stasis generators, and disrupt the territory they occupy. They will cause a so far uncalculated shift in the balance of our world. Taking into account the most favourable conditions for stasis, the resultant loss of existing inhabited space would be a minimum of 65.79 per cent.’

Jeb Stuart Ho began to feel the magnitude of the task he was being set. Doubt hovered in the corner of his mind, but he controlled his will and it faded. The teacher went on.

‘The second danger that would result from this situation is that the release of energy from a certain level of warfare would be a considerable attraction to the disrupters. They would gravitate towards the source of energy by the shortest possible route. That would certainly involve many of them cutting through the normally undisturbed central sectors. In this event the space and, of course, population loss could be as high as 98.51 per cent.’

The information fell about Jeb Stuart Ho’s shoulders like a heavy yoke. It was far worse than purely physical weight. He was used to those. In advanced combat training the body is often loaded to its very limit. This burden of responsibility would go far beyond that. He would have to be sure-footed and have strength in excess of anything he had experienced. His boast of being ready seemed empty and childish. Still he kept silent, and the teacher continued his instruction.

‘All our calculations lead us to one conclusion. There is a single individual. The individual’s future actions will be the seeds of this disaster. If they are allowed to germinate and grow, the flowers that eventually bloom will be terrible to look upon.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked straight ahead.

‘It will be my task to pluck those flowers?’

‘It will be your task to make sure that seeds never put forth shoots.’

‘I must intervene and prevent the individual from taking such action as will precipitate disaster?’

The teacher looked at Jeb Stuart Ho for the first time.

‘It is graver than that. The actions and their effect on this pattern are too complex. You must remove the individual.’

‘I must kill, Teacher?’

‘You must kill, Jeb Stuart Ho.’

There was a long silence. Jeb Stuart Ho looked down at his hands, and then straight ahead.

‘Who is the subject?’

‘A female, current age thirteen, technocrat upbringing. You will receive a data package as you depart.’

‘May I ask one question? What gives us the right to calculate an individual must die?’

‘Our calculations are accurate to the smallest margin.’

‘So we take the responsibility of another’s death?’

‘That is a second question.’

‘We are always right? Is there no room for doubt?’

‘The superior man arrives at the river and crosses.’

‘We are always right?’

‘To the finest part of allowable error.’

They sat in silence for many minutes. The water clock dripped away the time. Jeb Stuart Ho finally rose, bowed to the teacher and left the room. He made his way down the maze of corridors to his own cell. Nah Duc West was waiting. He bowed as his master entered, and then looked up anxiously.

‘The Teacher has instructed you in the task, master?’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the young man and smiled.

‘You are like the moth that bathes in die flame and wonders at its burning.’

‘Yes, master.’

‘The Teacher gave me his instructions.’

The pupil looked up eagerly.

‘And am I to go with you, master?’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘No, I go alone.’

‘But master, for many months I have been your lover and pupil. We have shared our knowledge and our bodies. Why do you now reject me? Why must you leave me behind?’

Jeb Stuart Ho put his hand gently on the pupil’s shoulder.

‘Your training must continue, Nah Duc West. Another will take my place. You are not being rejected. I have my task, you have yours. They no longer follow the same path and we must part. It is no reason for grief. We both continue. When travellers part at the crossroads they rejoice because their journey continues to its conclusion.’

Nah Duc West bowed his head in the face of this self-evident wisdom. Jeb Stuart Ho extended his hand and stroked his pupil’s hair.

‘We have not parted yet. You still have the task of preparing me for my journey.’

Nah Duc West looked at the floor.

‘Yes, master.’

There were a few moments while the young man stood, not moving. Jeb Stuart Ho sat down crosslegged on his sleeping mat and looked at his pupil.

‘Well, get on with it,’

Nah Duc West jerked into life.

‘Yes, master.’

He went to the trunk in the corner of the room and opened it. First he took out a white cloth and spread it on the floor. Then piece by piece he laid out Jeb Stuart Ho’s equipment. Carefully he stretched out the leather body suit. It was a one-piece black garment fastened down the front. It was reinforced by quilting and small silver plates over the vulnerable spots. It covered the entire body including the hands and feet. The striking edges of these were also strengthened by strips of metal, as were the knees and elbows.

The laying out of an executive’s equipment was a serious ritual among the brothers. The sequence of items was very important. With true regard for tradition, Nah Duc West produced the wide leather belt with its attachments for the various accoutrements. Next came the weapons: the long double handed sword, the nanchuk: two short steel batons joined by a length of chain, the flat case of six matched throwing knives and the .90 magnum in its carry case that also held the ammunition and the extension barrel.

The pupil checked that each weapon was in working order, and free from dirt or rust. He knew if he failed in this, he’d be the subject of a different, more painful ritual. He carefully placed them in their correct positions beside the belt and the suit. The next items were equally important. The portable stasis generator, the small black box that would prevent its wearer from being assimilated into the nothings, and the survival case that contained water and food concentrates. When these had been laid out, the pupil produced the final item from the chest. The thick, coarsely woven travelling cape was placed, folded, at the corner of the white cloth.

When all this was complete, Jeb Stuart Ho finally stood up. He undid his robe and let it fall to his feet. Nah Duc West looked lovingly at his master’s thin but heavily muscled body for a moment, and then stooped to pick up the black leather suit. He helped him struggle into it and zipped up the front. Then he picked up the belt and strapped it around Jeb Stuart Ho’s waist. Jeb Stuart Ho raised his hands as the pupil attached the generator, the survival kit and the gun case to his belt. The sword was hung from the straps on his back so the hilt was level with his right shoulder. The knives were buckled on to his left forearm, while the nanchuk was strapped to the other.

Before handing Jeb Stuart Ho the folded cloak, his pupil took a mirror from the trunk and held it in front of him. Jeb Stuart Ho regarded himself, and was pleased. His fighting suit and weapons were immaculate. His pale face looked back at him in a suitably calm, determined manner. His dark hair hung down straight, cut off at the shoulders in the accepted manner of the brotherhood. He would not disgrace them as an executive. In the outside world he must be the superior man of fable. Not that he was without advantage. His suit would protect him against all human attack below the level of blades or projectiles. Unarmed, he could defeat most men by the skill of his hands and feet. With his weapons he was as nearly invincible as any human could be.

From the very moment of conception, and, in fact, even before that moment, he had been tailored and trained to become a fighting machine. Only the disciplines of the brotherhood could enable him to use such power in an ethical manner. He was confident the disciplines would hold. He would sustain the honour of his teacher.

Jeb Stuart Ho took the cloak from his pupil and threw it around his shoulders, making sure that the hilt of his sword was still easily accessible. Then he leaned forward and gently kissed his pupil.

‘Goodbye, Nah Duc West.’

‘Goodbye, Jeb Stuart Ho.’

He walked quickly out of the room, and turned in the direction of the huge outer doors. When he reached them, the teacher was waiting for him.

‘You go?’

‘Yes, Teacher.’

The teacher handed him a small package wrapped in white silk.

‘This contains all you need to know about the subject.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed.

‘Yes, Teacher.’

The teacher returned his bow, and the great doors slid open with a faint hiss.

***

Jeb Stuart Ho stopped and looked back at the temple. Although he had been outside before on exercise, the first taste of the open never failed to excite him. He stared at it surrounded by the flat, featureless plain that was fixed in perfect stasis by its unfaltering generators. The temple itself filled him, with wonder. It was a huge, flat-sided pillar that seemed to reach halfway to the yellow sky. Its black surfaces were completely blank. The only break in the smooth stone was the huge doorway through which he had left. Even this was dwarfed by the enormous size of the building.

Jeb Stuart Ho turned away from it. He walked on across the even plain, towards the point where the power of the generators began to diminish and the regularity of the plain broke up into wild, jagged rock formations.

When he reached these, Jeb Stuart Ho was forced to climb and scramble. The rocks, as he got further from the generators’ fields, began to change colour. The whiteness of the plain first turned to grey and brown and then, further out, exploded into a riot of purple and green. The sky too changed. It became more strident. Above the black building it had been a pale yellow, but over the wilderness of rocks it altered to a burnished gold.

Here and there, in the deep crevasses, pools of grey shifting nothing swirled and smoked. Jeb Stuart Ho’s hand went to his belt and switched on his generator pack. A red pilot light glowed, and it came alive with a soft hum. He knew if he should accidentally slip into one of those grey pools without the generator protecting him, he would be spread three ways across another universe.

Here and there, spiky plants clung to cracks in the rocks. One in particular, with extravagant red blossoms, attracted him. He stopped and examined it. Then he stepped back and stood tense, just as they had taught him in the swordsman’s class. His hands flashed to the sword hilt behind his left shoulder. The blade whistled. The topmost flower was detached from its stalk. It dropped to the rock, rolled and fell down into one of the grey pools. As it touched the nothings, it smoked for an instant and melted away.

Jeb Stuart Ho stood holding his sword and feeling a little foolish. He was ashamed that he should have succumbed to using his hard-learned skills in such a childish display of bravado. It was unforgivable at a time when all his concentration should be directed to his task.

He decided it was time for him to study the data package. He unzipped the top of his body suit and removed the silk bundle. He squatted on a nearby rock, and carefully began to unwrap it. It contained a tri-di cube and a roll of parchment. Jeb Stuart Ho held up the cube and looked at it. In it was the image of a girl in her early teens. She had dark hair and a pale, petulant face. Her eyes were large and surrounded by dark makeup. Her mouth was coloured dark red and looked cruelly sensual. A loop action inside the cube made the image repeat the same sequence of expressions over and over again. First she stared out impassively at him, then slowly she smiled. Her lip curled, and the smile turned into a sneer. Finally the expression faded, only to start the cycle again. Jeb Stuart Ho turned the cube slowly round examining the girl’s face from every angle. He wished that he had had more experience with women at the temple. The teachers, in their wisdom, encouraged the pupil executives to find love among their own sex.

He put down the cube, and turned his attention to the parchment. It was covered with computer print which he read carefully. There was a solemnity about the moment. He was reading about the person he was going to kill.

A.A. Catto.

Like her brother Waldo, she has remained at a static age for a considerable period.

Member of Directorate (technocrat ruling class) of Con-Lec, a corporation citadel culture in S class decay.

Petulant, wilful, vicious, with high, pain-related sexual appetite. Escorted by human male, reportedly named Reave.

Mistress/pet relationship.

No martial skills.

All training directed to sensory satisfaction.

IQ 197.

M-potential nil.

Psi-property nil.

Retention factor B +.

Subject’s present location midsection city Litz (pop. 1,241,000 - Stuff contract pleasure city) where she moves in a sensation-seeking subgroup.

Class A subject. May surround herself with mercenary protection. Approach with caution.

Aim of intervention is death of subject.

Jeb Stuart Ho read the parchment twice and then folded it beside the cube. He wrapped both in the piece of silk and returned them to his suit. Then he stood up. He knew the first place he had to go. He once again began picking his way through the rocks.

As he went on, moving, all the time, away from the temple, the landscape continued to change. The rock formations began to fragment and break up. Where there had previously been bright colours they faded to a dull grey, not much darker than the pools of shifting nothings. In fact, pools was no longer an adequate description. They had enlarged and merged, so there were now wide expanses of emptiness. Here and there, the rocks jutted out of them, like ice floes on a frozen sea.

It was necessary for Jeb Stuart Ho to cross these expanses. Although his personal generator protected him from the fate of any unshielded matter that came in contact with the nothings, it was still an unnerving experience to step out into the strange, alien mist and suddenly find the solid foothold created by the generator.

On a particularly wide flat expanse of rock, he paused for a moment. He unhitched the supply case from his belt and took a sparing mouthful of water. He looked around, shielding his eyes, and searching for something on the far horizon. He knew that if he was to find the girl A.A. Catto he would have to start by looking for her in the city of Litz. In order to get there he would require a guide. There was a small group of humans who had the power to know where exactly they were in the strange shattered world that had remained after the breakdown. There were certain animals that appeared to have the same faculty. Jeb Stuart Ho knew he would need one of these if he was to make the journey to Litz without much excessive wandering.

If the faculty of location could have been bred or taught, the brotherhood would undoubtedly have produced their own guides. But it seemed to be a completely random gift. All they could do was to keep track of the movements of the various potential guides. Jeb Stuart Ho knew he had been lucky. There was one listed as being in a place on roughly the same plane as the temple. If his calculations had been correct, the shattered landscape he was crossing should be the area where the generator fields of the temple and the place he expected to find the guide failed to overlap completely.

He thought he saw something on the very horizon, but the air shimmered so much where the nothings fought to absorb and destroy it, it was hard to tell. He walked on, and gradually he became positive that there was a tall, dark shape in the distance. After walking a little further it became apparent that the dark shape was a building of some sort. In some ways it was like the temple. It was obviously very tall, and dominated the surrounding landscape in much the same way as the temple. As far as Jeb Stuart Ho could see it didn’t have the clean lines of the temple. Its outline seemed cluttered and fussy.

He knew very little about the place he was going to. The reference had only told him its name. It had said a guide was currently at Wainscot, and given some approximate directions. Jeb Stuart Ho quickened his pace. He could waste no time on the preparatory moves that were needed before he could fulfil his mission.

As he came nearer the dark building, the landscape began to stabilize. It was no more attractive, though, than the borders of the nothings. The rocks did not return to their earlier colours. On the outskirts of Wainscote they were black and shiny. Damp white mist lay in the lower hollows and streamed across the slippery surfaces. No flowers bloomed but here and there twisted, frightened trees clung to the crags. Jeb Stuart Ho saw a dark carrion bird perched on a branch. It eyed him speculatively, but did nothing.

As he drew nearer, he could make out more details of the building itself. To Jeb Stuart Ho’s disciplined mind it appeared a mess. Its base was surrounded by buttresses and porticoes like the exposed roots of some ancient gnarled tree. The main body of the structure was like a stout trunk. It was studded with irregular rows of windows. Most were dark, but a few showed dim, flickering lights. It was topped by an uneven crown of turrets which completed the similarity to a blasted tree by jutting up like stunted branches.

There was an air of gothic gloom that seemed to extend from the house out to the surrounding landscape. The sky had become a deep blue. It gave out no light. That came from an artificial sun that hung brooding behind the turrets, a sullen bloated red. Jeb Stuart Ho involuntarily shuddered, and pulled his cloak more tightly round his shoulders.

Between the rocks he found a rough path that led directly to the house. As he came closer to it, the number of trees increased. More birds, like the one he’d seen earlier, flew high above him in a ragged line. Here and there beside the tracks were other, smaller buildings, cottages or huts. Jeb Stuart Ho peered into a couple of them, but they all seemed to be deserted, and in various stages of decay.

The path opened out as he came closer to the house. The nearer he came, the more he realized exactly how huge the building was. It towered above the surrounding landscape casting a vast, malevolent shadow. A wide area of bare ground littered with rubble and garbage led up to the front of the building. A flight of wide steps gave access to the massive front doors. Jeb Stuart Ho walked quickly across the open space and hurried up the steps. He stopped in front of the double doors. They appeared to have been designed to give access to a race of giants. One of them was slightly open. There was a space just wide enough for Jeb Stuart Ho to slip through. No light came from whatever lay immediately behind. He paused for a moment and ran his fingers over the copper tracery that covered the hard dark wood of the door. Then he slid through the gap, and silently entered Wainscote.

It took a few moments for his eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom. When they did he found that he was in a large hallway. It was deserted, and had the coldness of a place that is rarely used. The few pieces of furniture that were dotted about the flagged expanse of floor seemed like desolate wrecks. They were worn and broken. Garbage had collected in the corners, and the place smelled of damp.

Jeb Stuart Ho moved noiselessly across the hallway towards a wide, and probably once stately, staircase that curved round the far wall. A rapid scuttling sound made him freeze and look round. A pair of small armadillos, disturbed by the unexpected human presence, burrowed for shelter under a collapsed chaise longue. He smiled at their desperate efforts to get away from him. The animals who lived in the temple never displayed such fear and alarm. It was obvious that conditions at Wainscote were very different. He began carefully to climb the stairs. It looked as though the inhabitants of the house must live much further inside the building, and rarely visit the outer areas.

The top of the staircase opened out into a large gallery, which, like the hall below, showed the ravages of neglect. A rat peered out from behind a length of rotting curtain and fled squealing at the sight of the dark figure that had invaded its domain, More squeals and rustles came from inside the walls, as the news of the intruder circulated through the rat community.

A number of corridors led off the gallery. They were dim, bare and uninviting, each one identical to the next. Jeb Stuart Ho knew that he could only make a random choice. The middle one looked as though it might possibly lead more directly to the interior of the house. He started down it, still watchful for any sign of life.

Nothing happened for a long while. Jeb Stuart Ho walked patiently on, past occasional doorways that opened into more empty, deserted rooms. All he could do was follow the twists and turns of the corridor until it reached its ultimate destination. If it ended in a blind alley, he would simply go back and try one of the others. His information said that he would find his guide inside this building, and temple information was nearly always accurate.

After walking for some minutes, he came to a point where the corridor made a right-angle turn. Jeb Stuart Ho had become less careful. The unchanging corridor didn’t seem very hostile. As he turned the corner he saw a dark figure coming towards him at the far end of the passage. His protective senses came to life, and he sprang lightly back, pressing himself against the wall. The figure did exactly the same thing. Slowly, Jeb Stuart Ho moved away from the wall. Again the other figure matched his own movements. He smiled as he realized that it must be an image of himself. The entire end of the corridor was one large mirror.

Then someone laughed. Jeb Stuart Ho spun round, his hands flashing to the hilt of his sword. A girl stood leaning in the doorway of one of the empty rooms. Her hair was very black and hung almost to her waist. It partially hid her small pale face, but Jeb Stuart Ho noticed that it was like that of a self-indulgent child, and only the dark shadows under her eyes gave away her real age. That and her body. Even in the long red satin dress it couldn’t be mistaken for anything but that of a mature young woman. He lowered the sword. She laughed again.

‘You look a little ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculous?’

No one had ever called Jeb Stuart Ho ridiculous before.

‘Jumping at your own reflection. Pulling out that sword.’

‘I’m sorry. I was being careful, that’s all.’

The girl moved towards him. He saw she had an ornamented goblet of some kind of white metal in her right hand. She raised it to her mouth and sipped from it. Her movements seemed very controlled and deliberate. She swayed a little as she walked. It was as though she was very drunk, but also very accustomed to it.

‘Did you drift away from the party?’

‘There is a party?’

‘There’s always a party. Everyone knows that. How is it that you don’t know it?’

‘I have only just arrived here.’

‘You came from outside?’

‘Yes, I came from outside.’

‘You’re not making it up?’

‘What reason would I have for making up something like that?’

‘Some people will do anything to draw attention to themselves.’

‘I don’t want attention.’

‘Most people do.’

‘Do you?’

The girl fiddled with, her drink.

‘I suppose so. I’m no different to the rest.’

‘Then why do you come to these empty rooms? There’s no one to see you here.’

‘They frighten me.’

‘That would seem a reason to stay away from them.’

‘I like to be frightened now and then. Don’t you? Don’t you enjoy a thrill of fear?’

Jeb Stuart Ho carefully put away his sword.

‘I don’t think so. I’ve never considered fear as a source of enjoyment.’

‘It can be terribly exciting.’

There was a long pause while Jeb Stuart Ho considered this new concept. The girl took the chance to move up close to him.

‘Are you going to rape me?’

Jeb Stuart Ho raised his eyebrows.

‘What is rape?’

‘You don’t know what rape is?’

He shook his head.

‘It’s not a term I’m familiar with.’

‘You’re teasing me?’

‘No.’

‘You really don’t know what rape means?’

‘No.’

‘It’s when a man forces a woman to have sex with him against her will.’

‘Why should he do that?’

The girl looked at him as though she was talking to an idiot.

‘He enjoys it, of course. There’s usually an element of brutality involved.’

‘Why should anyone enjoy hurting another person?’

The girl shrugged.

‘I don’t know why exactly, but there’s plenty who do.’

‘Know why?’

‘Enjoy hurting people. There’s plenty of people who enjoy pain, for that matter.’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

The girl gestured towards the weapons hanging under his cloak.

‘You look like you ought to. You could kill a lot of people with that stuff.’

‘I’m trained to kill. It is my vocation. I am aware it may be necessary at times, but I don’t enjoy the act.’

‘Then why do it?’

‘We all have to do things we don’t enjoy.’

‘I don’t, why should I? I don’t think I’m enjoying this conversation any more.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault. I don’t enjoy many things for long. I get bored.’

‘I thought you said you didn’t do anything you don’t enjoy.’

‘That’s right. I don’t.’

‘But …’

‘There are times when I don’t do anything. I frequently don’t do anything. I think I’ll go back to the party now. I’m bored with being out here.’

She looked up at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Do you want to go to the party?’

He shook his head.

‘I have to find someone.’

‘Who?’

‘I have information that there is a guide somewhere in this place.’

The girl laughed. It was short, sharp and with a trace of a sneer.

‘I should have guessed you’d be after him. There are always people coming from outside looking for him. They usually want him to take them somewhere. You’re wasting your time, you know. He never goes. He won’t do it any more.’

‘Why is that? Surely it is his gift? A man cannot turn his back on his gift.’

‘He can. He finds it really easy. Ever since he got into sensory deprivation he’s found it really easy.’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s face formed itself into a look of grim patience.

‘He will go this time.’

***

The Minstrel Boy could feel something and he didn’t like it. Something was reaching into his cosy cocooned tank. Something touched him. He’d felt nothing for so long that it affected his nerves. He twisted away from it, and the pads over his eyes slipped. Light smashed into his head. The Minstrel Boy went rigid. Every response silently screamed. His legs kicked convulsively. The touch came again. It was more deliberate this time. It was a hand. It was reaching for the drip feed. It was trying to remove it from his arm.

Anger exploded inside the Minstrel Boy. It was intolerable. Someone was actually interfering with him, bringing him back to reality. His privacy was being invaded. His consciousness was being changed against his will. What gave anyone the right to mess with him like that?

In one violent move he surfaced. He sat up inside the coffin-shaped cubicle. It was the only thing in the high stone turret room. He tore the headphones from his ears. The amplified sound of his own circulation abruptly stopped.

‘What the fuck …’

The real world crashed in on him. He felt sick and dropped back on to the cushioned interior of the coffin. He tried it a little more gently this time. Carefully he opened his eyes again. The light still hurt, but it was bearable. He found that he could see. He didn’t like what he saw.

A tall thin man in a black cloak was standing beside the black steel coffin. The clear plastic feeder tube was still in his hand. The Minstrel Boy sat up, slowly and carefully this time.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? What makes you think you can walk in here and drag me down to your level?’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked calmly at the Minstrel Boy.

‘I have need of you.’

The Minstrel Boy’s first response was to try to damage this stranger who had caused him so much pain. He checked the impulse when he saw the array of weapons hung around the man’s body. Instead, he rested an arm on the side of the coffin and curled his lip.

‘I suppose you think you can get me to go with you? I suppose you think you can threaten me with violence?’

Jeb Stuart Ho stared steadily at the Minstrel Boy.

‘I could, but that isn’t the way that I operate.’

The Minstrel Boy laughed harshly.

‘That’s not the way you operate? I’ll tell you one thing, you won’t get me to go anywhere any other way.’

Jeb Stuart Ho shrugged.

‘I think you’ll come with me in the end.’

‘You think that? Is that what you think?’

‘I’m confident that you’ll guide me.’

‘Confident, hey? So what makes you so fucking confident? I like this place. I don’t have to move, I don’t have to think. I’m quite happy here, in fact I love it. I don’t see any way you could get me to leave here without holding a gun to my head.’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’

‘You don’t, hey? You don’t think it’ll be necessary?’

‘I don’t.’

‘So what do you intend to do?’

‘I thought that if I explained the nature of my task to you, you might become more willing to guide me.’

‘Explain the nature of your task? You got to be crazy. Can’t you understand that I’m just not interested? I’ve had it. I’ve had it with the travelling and the concentrating. Knowing where you are don’t come easy. You have to work at it. There are times when it actually hurts. I don’t need it. I don’t give a fuck what high-minded mission you got. I don’t want to know.’

Jeb Stuart Ho waited until the Minstrel Boy had finished, then he spoke very softly.

‘I am from the temple. My task is an executive assignment.’

The Minstrel Boy sneered.

‘Is that supposed to frighten me? Is that supposed to fill me with awe? It might have done, years ago, but now I just don’t care. I’m never going travelling again. You’ll have to find someone else.’

‘You’re the one I need.’

‘I’m not the one you’re going to get. I’m staying right here.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stroked his chin.

‘You are a guest here. Perhaps your hosts would not be so anxious for you to stay here if they knew you had incurred the displeasure of the temple.’

The Minstrel Boy laughed.

‘For a temple executive you really don’t know very much. You ought to do a bit more homework. The One who rules this place don’t care whose displeasure He incurs. He don’t care.’

‘The temple is very powerful.’

‘So the temple’s powerful, He’s not interested. He’s not even interested that Wainscote is falling apart around Him. He just lies in His vault and soaks up energy from the fools at the party. If that ever stops, then maybe He’ll wake and move out into the world. When that happens, even the temple won’t be able to stop Him doing what He wants. He’s invincible.’

‘And you want to be just like Him.’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t want anything, or, more to the point, I want nothing. I badly want nothing at all. You understand?’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘I understand, but it seems a very negative attitude.’

‘That’s right. That’s exactly what it is. Negative. That’s for me, Mister Executive.’

‘So it would be no use outlining the importance of my task?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘No use at all, buddy. So you might as well move along, and let me go back to sleep.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked sadly at the Minstrel Boy.

‘You’re putting me in a very difficult position.’

‘That’s really too bad.’

‘In the temple we strive to make every statement an absolute truth.’

‘So?’

‘On the other hand it is of paramount importance that a member of the brotherhood should not fail in an assigned task.’

The Minstrel Boy frowned.

‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’

Jeb Stuart Ho sighed

‘I’m attempting to explain the awkward position you have placed me in by your refusal to cooperate.’

The Minstrel Boy began to get annoyed.

‘Can’t I get it across to you that I don’t want to know?’

Jeb Stuart Ho ignored him and went on.

‘By your refusal to cooperate, you are forcing me to go back on a previous statement.’

‘I should worry.’

‘Perhaps you should.’

‘Huh?’

‘I said earlier that I would not use violence or threats of violence to force you to cooperate. Your attitude and the importance of my mission make it necessary to reverse that statement.’

‘What do you mean?’

Jeb Stuart Ho slowly removed the .90 magnum from its holster.

‘If you don’t accompany me on my mission, I’ll kill you.’

The Minstrel Boy’s jaw dropped.

‘You can’t do that. It’s illogical. The brotherhood can’t go around behaving illogically.’

Jeb Stuart Ho trained the gun on the Minstrel Boy.

‘That’s true, but my analysis of the situation indicates that this is the only course. I think we have delayed long enough. You will get out of that coffin and put on your travelling clothes.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

Jeb Stuart Ho took a step forward and thrust the gun under the Minstrel Boy’s chin.

‘Move!’

The Minstrel Boy began to scramble out of the coffin. He pointed an accusing finger at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘You are going to regret this, my man.’

He tentatively swung his legs over the side and placed his feet on the floor. He tried to stand but his legs buckled and he dropped to the flagstones. He looked up at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘You’re going to have to help me. I’m kind of weak. I haven’t moved in quite a while.’

Jeb Stuart Ho lowered his gun and bent down, extending a hand to the Minstrel Boy. The Minstrel Boy grasped the offered hand, and then suddenly jerked and twisted. He pulled at Jeb Stuart Ho’s arm. For a moment he swung off balance. The gun wavered. The Minstrel Boy kicked at Ho’s legs, but the executive turned on the balls of his feet, avoided the Minstrel Boy’s thrashing legs, and aimed a precise blow with the edge of his own foot. It landed under the Minstrel Boy’s jaw, and he rolled against the side of the black steel coffin, clutching his throat.

‘What in hell did you do that for? You could have ruptured my windpipe.’

‘The blow did exactly what it was supposed to do.’

‘Huh?’

‘It was a reminder. I sought to hurt you, but not cause any serious damage. If anything like that happens again I shall break one of the less vital bones in your body.’

‘Okay, okay.’

‘On any subsequent occasion I’ll do an increasing amount of damage.’

‘Sure, great, I give in. I’m coming with you.’

‘Just so we understand each other. Nothing must stand in the way of my mission.’

The Minstrel Boy got unsteadily to his feet. He was still massaging his bruised throat.

‘Okay, you’ve got a deal. I won’t cause any more trouble.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stood erect and watchful.

‘Then get dressed. We’ve wasted enough time already.’

The Minstrel Boy looked calculatingly at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘There is one thing.’

‘What?’

‘I figure I ought to get paid for this job.’

‘You’ll be amply rewarded.’

‘How much?’

‘I guarantee the temple won’t turn down any reasonable request.’

‘Okay, that’s good enough.’

A small wash bowl was set in one corner of the bare stone room. Beside it was a simple wooden cupboard with a plain mirror set in the front of it. As the Minstrel Boy moved across the room, Jeb Stuart Ho noted that he was genuinely unsteady on his feet. He bent over the sink and splashed water on his face and neck.

‘That deprivation sure leaves you feeling bad.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked bored.

‘That would seem adequate reason not to engage in it.’

The Minstrel Boy scowled.

‘I might have known you’d say that.’

The Minstrel Boy opened the cupboard, and took out a plain white cotton shirt. When he’d put this on, he removed a pair of grey pinstripe trousers from a hanger, and climbed into them. Next he pulled on a pair of high-heeled black boots, and tucked his pants into them. He turned to the mirror and dragged a comb through his dark, curly hair. He stepped back and admired the reflection of his pale, pinched face for a couple of moments. Then he lifted a belt that held five matched throwing knives, and strapped it around his hips. Jeb Stuart Ho glanced at him questioningly.

‘You don’t carry a gun?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned and shook his head. He patted the knives.

‘These will do me just fine. After all, I’ve got you to protect me, haven’t I? You’d be lost without me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho remained silent. The Minstrel Boy laughed and took a black frock coat from the cupboard. He slipped it on and brushed himself down. He clipped a miniature generator to his belt, and then completed his outfit with a wide-brimmed black hat with a silver and turquoise band. With a swift practised motion he tipped the hat over his eyes;, and grinned at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Okay, I’m ready. Where do you want to go?’

‘The city of Litz …’

‘Litz! I know Litz.’

‘There will be a problem in getting there.’

The Minstrel Boy laughed.

‘No, no, it’s a good distance, but there’s no real problem in getting there.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked puzzled.

‘Then why do you laugh?’

‘Relief, I guess. Litz is, at least, halfway civilized. I began to think that you wanted to go to some weird place out in the fringes.’

‘It might come to that in the end, but Litz will do for now. Shall we get started?’

The Minstrel Boy sat down on the edge of the coffin.

‘Just hold on a minute. A trip to Litz isn’t just a short stroll. We need to plan the thing out.’

‘We can’t walk?’

‘No way. If we walked, I’d go insane before we were halfway there. We’ll need lizards.’

It was Jeb Stuart Ho’s turn to look puzzled.

‘Lizards?’

‘Sure, lizards. They’ll get us there, and all I’ll have to concentrate on is letting them know where we want to go. They’ll find their way there without any help.’

‘There are lizards in this place?’

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

‘Sure, there’s a bunch of them stabled in the lower levels. Nobody’ll notice if we take a couple.’

Jeb Stuart Ho raised a dubious eyebrow.

‘Will no one object if we remove something that is their property? Might they not become bitter about it?’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘What if they do? We’ll be long gone before that happens. In any case, I doubt if anyone will notice. Nobody hardly ever leaves here. I just hope someone’s remembered to feed them recently. Lizards are okay, but they have a tendency to get mean when they’re hungry.’

He pushed his shirt cuffs out from his jacket with a sharp hustler’s gesture, and jerked his head for Jeb Stuart Ho to follow him. They left the bare room with its steel coffin, and started down the endless corridors of Wainscote. It was almost like a dress rehearsal for the coming adventure. Jeb Stuart Ho was already totally in the hands of the Minstrel Boy. The builders of Wainscote had employed no recognizable logic in its construction. He knew that he could easily wander for days before he found his way out. He carefully watched the Minstrel Boy’s back for any sign of a trick. He didn’t altogether like the situation, but he realized there was no other way.

They descended five flights of stone stairs. It was like dropping into the vaults of the earth. The ceilings became covered with trails of dark green slime that hung like stalactites. Jeb Stuart Ho and the Minstrel Boy had to duck their heads to avoid it brushing off on their clothes.

Jeb Stuart Ho noticed that as they went lower and lower, a smell somewhat like ammonia got stronger. At the bottom of the fifth set of stairs it became almost overpowering. Ho glanced at the Minstrel Boy.

‘What causes this smell?’

The Minstrel Boy scowled.

‘Lizards. They stink something cruel. Nobody ever cleans the pens.’

‘Why not?’

The Minstrel Boy looked at Jeb Stuart Ho impatiently.

‘Why should they bother? Who gives a fuck? Like I said, nobody ever goes anywhere.’

‘But they are living creatures.’

‘So?’

Jeb Stuart Ho gave up. It was obvious that the Minstrel Boy’s mind worked in a very different way to his. They reached the bottom of the last flight of steps. The smell became almost overpowering. Ho raised his cloak to cover his nose and mouth. The Minstrel Boy grinned at him.

‘Bad, isn’t it?’

They walked through a high stone arch and into the lizard stables of Wainscote. Jeb Stuart Ho looked along the row of stalls that housed the huge creatures. Despite his training to expect anything, he couldn’t help being awed by the huge beasts. Their bodies alone were twice as high as a man, and their long necks extended to almost twice that again. As the two men approached them they shifted uneasily, and made deep bleating sounds. One of them swung its head round. It stared at Ho and the Minstrel Boy from dark moist eyes. Its thin reptilian tongue flicked in and out like a whip. Jeb Stuart Ho glanced at the Minstrel Boy.

‘Are you sure you can control these beasts?’

The Minstrel Boy laughed.

‘Sure. Nothing to it. Why? Are you nervous or something?’

‘No, I was just wondering.’

‘Don’t worry. I know all about lizards.’

He walked over to one of the largest, a huge dark green monster, and slapped it hard on the rump.

‘Lizards are no problem.’

He ducked under the heavy chain that closed off the end of the stall. He made a shrill whistling noise between his teeth. The animal inclined its head, and the Minstrel Boy began to scratch it vigorously on the nose.

‘See? No trouble at all. We might as well get saddled up and start moving. There ain’t nothing to hang around here for.’

He pointed to a row of saddles hanging from some short beams that jutted from the opposite wall.

‘Bring over two saddles and two sets of harness, and I’ll get a couple of these monsters hitched up to go.’

Jeb Stuart Ho walked over to the rack and picked up a heavy wooden saddle. The leather girth was attached to the seat with huge decorated silver studs. It must have once looked magnificent, but now it was filthy and covered in dust. He wiped off the worst of it and hefted the saddle over to where the Minstrel Boy was standing, still scratching the big lizard. He put it down, and went back for another one. The Minstrel Boy gestured towards the rack.

‘We’ll need two sets of harness as well.’

The harnesses consisted of a wide leather collar with a single long rein attached to it. Jeb Stuart Ho brought them over to the Minstrel Boy, who took one of them and buckled the collar round the neck of the big green lizard. He led it out of the stall and handed the rein to Ho.

‘Hold this one, while I go and sort you out a mount.’

Jeb Stuart Ho gingerly grasped the lizard’s rein. To his relief the creature showed no inclination to go anywhere. The Minstrel Boy sauntered down the row of stalls, inspecting the other animals. Finally he stopped in front of a smaller lizard, with a yellowish mottled hide. He attached a collar to it and led it towards where Jeb Stuart Ho was standing.

‘This one should suit you. It’s pretty docile and easy to handle.’

Ho and the lizard looked at each other distrustfully. Slowly Ho stretched out his hand and scratched its nose. The lizard bleated gratefully. The Minstrel Boy sniffed.

‘Maybe we’ll turn you into a lizard handler before this trip’s over.’

Jeb Stuart Ho glanced at him sharply.

‘I have more important objectives for this journey.’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘We’d better get the saddles on, or we won’t reach any kind of objective at all.’

The huge bulk of the creatures made putting the saddles on them an awkward business. A set of stone steps ran up one part of the stable wall. The Minstrel Boy led the first lizard over to them. He got Jeb Stuart Ho to hold it while he picked up one of the saddles, climbed the steps and tossed the saddle over the animal’s back. After that, he had to scramble under its belly and buckle the girth. The whole process was repeated with the second lizard. When they were both saddled, he walked to the far end of the stable and pulled open a pair of high double doors. Sunlight streamed into the dim room, and the lizards shuffled and blinked nervously. Beyond the doors, an inclined ramp led up to ground level.

The Minstrel Boy climbed up into the saddle of the big green lizard, and Jeb Stuart Ho hauled himself on to the smaller yellow one. He watched carefully as the Minstrel Boy dug his heels sharply into the monster’s side. The lizard began to lumber forward towards the open doors. Jeb Stuart Ho tried the same thing with his own mount, and was surprised and pleased when it began following its big green brother.

As they climbed the ramp, Jeb Stuart Ho called out to the Minstrel Boy.

‘Should we not close the door behind us?’

The Minstrel Boy turned and laughed.

‘Why bother? With the doors open, the lizards will get restless and start trying to break out. It might force someone to do something about it.’

They reached the top of the ramp, and pointed their mounts away from Wainscote. Jeb Stuart Ho would have liked to gather more information about the place, but his mission was more pressing. He and the Minstrel Boy vigorously kicked their lizards, and the beasts broke into a ponderous, earth-shaking canter.

***

A.A. Catto stared sourly across the crowded room. The tables of the Venus Flytrap were each enclosed in their own plexiglass dome. If she dimmed the interior light she could see what was going on in the rest of the club; if she turned it up the rest of the club could see her. Right then, she had it set at medium. The other people in the place were reduced to dark murmuring shadows. She was just a dim shape to them inside the bubble. That was the way A.A. Catto wanted it. She didn’t want to see anyone, and she didn’t want to be on display.

A.A. Catto was beginning to hate the Venus Flytrap. She was beginning to hate the entire city of Litz. She was even beginning to hate herself. She looked down at her thirteen-year-old body encased in the brief metal foil dress. She was thoroughly sick of the thin arms and legs and half-formed breasts. The only thing that stopped her leaving off the growth retarder and letting it mature was the possibility that she might regret it afterwards. Once you allowed yourself to age there was no going back. You could halt your growth any time you liked, you could accelerate it if you wanted to. The one thing you couldn’t do was reverse the process. A.A. Catto was sick of living in an age of such incomplete and half-arsed technology.

Way over on the other side of the club she could just make out Reave. His face was illuminated by the rainbow lamp above the four square table. He sat with his back to the curtain of black water that served as one wall of the club. She could see from the anxious, stupid look on his face that he was losing consistently. He was more interested in watching the tits of the topless dealer than in paying attention to his cards. She was beginning to get sick of Reave. She kept him,, she dressed him, chose all his clothes and all his makeup. He looked particularly cute tonight in his black silk suit and purple lipstick. If only he didn’t always behave like a dummy. A.A. Catto expected, if not intelligence, at least some originality. All Reave seemed able to come up with was doglike devotion.

Her hand moved towards the silver ring on her left hand. It was inlaid with a complicated gold pattern. Reave wore a matching collar. The two pieces of jewellery were linked by an energy transfer. A.A. Catto only had to move the ring to push any experience from a soft tingle to unbearable pain straight into Reave’s nervous system. She turned the ring a fraction in the direction of pain. Reave jerked, dropped his cards, then looked in her direction and smiled. A.A. Catto’s lower lip stuck out and her mouth turned down at the corners. He was so predictable. Even when she hurt him, he took it as a sign of affection. There were times when she felt like turning him loose to fend for himself.

Beside her in the bubble, one of the club’s specially cloned entertainers was still going through his mildly obscene monologue. He wore a white suit, black shirt and an archaic white necktie. His right ear was pierced by a plain gold ring and his black hair was slicked back and shining. His face was framed by symmetrical sideburns. A.A. Catto assumed that some pretty, juvenile gangster from the motion picture era had been used as a model for his batch. The big thing in Litz right then was images from the days before break-up. A pale, almost albino girl drifted past the bubble. She wore high, polished boots and the black and red uniform of some ancient, long vanished political/military culture. A.A. Catto wondered if she ought to get an outfit like that. She turned to the clone and cut him off in mid sentence.

‘Do you think I’d look nice dressed like her?’

He responded without even looking at the girl.

‘You’d look cute in anything, babe.’

His accent and vocabulary were tailored to match his image. The only trouble with clones was that they were anxious to please to the point of paranoia. A.A. Catto sighed, and smiled sweetly.

‘Hold out your hand.’

The clone did as he was told. A.A. Catto took the thin black cheroot out of her mouth and ground it out in his palm. The clone gasped, clutched his injured hand and then drew back his fist to hit her. A.A. Catto shook her head.

‘Don’t bother. I don’t want to be beaten up. I’m bored with you. You’re dismissed.’

The clone got to his feet, still nursing his hand. A.A. Catto grinned as he walked away in the direction of the availability point. They were so funny, programmed like robots but still human enough to suffer. Although they could get tedious, A.A. Catto thoroughly approved of clones. They were good to have around.

She stood up herself, left the bubble and moved quietly to where Reave was still losing at four square. Reave didn’t notice her as she came up behind him. A.A. Catto twisted the ring hard into the pain register. Reave screamed, his back arched, and he toppled from his stool. The topless clone halted in mid-deal and waited, holding the pack of long rectangular cards in front of her full breasts, to see what would happen. Clones weren’t programmed to show emotion unless it was expected of them.

Reave lay on the carpeted floor, hunched in a foetal position. The other customers of the Venus Flytrap coolly acted as if nothing had happened. After about five seconds, A.A. Catto started to become impatient.

‘Get up, damn you.’

Reave whimpered and slowly uncurled. A.A. Catto nudged him with her toe.

‘I said get up.’

Painfully he climbed to his feet. He massaged the back of his neck and looked reproachfully at her.

‘Why did you do that?’

A.A. Catto’s lip curled.

‘Because you’re pathetic.’

‘Pathetic?’

‘You’ve lost a fortune tonight.’

Reave ran his fingers through his long straight hair.

‘But it doesn’t matter. We’ve got permanent, unlimited credit.’

A.A. Catto clenched her tiny fists.

‘I know we’ve got unlimited credit. It’s my credit.’

‘So what’s wrong?’

‘You had to go and lose.’

Reave nodded towards the still motionless clone.

‘It’s very hard to win against clones. They’re programmed to be almost unbeatable.’

‘So why play?’

‘It was something to do. You wouldn’t talk to me.’

‘Do you wonder that I don’t talk to you?’

Reave looked round helplessly.

‘I …’

‘Oh, for god’s sake, shut up. We’re leaving.’

Reave turned and signalled to the dealer that he was giving up his place at the table. She smiled an automatic sexy smile.

‘Thanks for the play, sir.’

Reave grinned back.

‘That’s okay.’

A.A. Catto scowled disgustedly.

‘Do you have to be so grovelling polite to clones?’

Reave shrugged.

‘It doesn’t cost anything. I mean, they are still human.’

‘You disgust me. You and your stupid ideas.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Do you always have to apologize?’

‘I …’

A.A. Catto’s hand moved to her ring. The colour drained our of Reave’s face and he held up his hands.

‘Please … not now. If you knock me out again it’ll only slow us up getting away from here,’

A.A. Catto smiled.

‘That’s true. You know, Reave, now and again you show flashes of crude intelligence.’

Reave bit his lip and said nothing. It wasn’t worth talking back to her when she was in this kind of mood. He followed her as she turned on her heel and swept out of the club. There had been a time when Reave might have made some kind of gesture behind her back, but now he didn’t even bother. He simply clasped his hands behind him and walked a few paces to her rear.

As they approached the club’s exit, the liveried doorman, resplendent in maroon and gold, snapped to attention and saluted.

‘You require transportation, Miss Catto?’

A.A. Catto shook her head.

‘I think I’ll walk, but you better get me some guardians.’

She handed him her credit card, and he dropped it into the call box on his wrist.

‘How many would you like, Miss Catto?’

‘Three should be enough.’

The doorman punched out the guardians’ code, and within seconds three clear-eyed, square-jawed clones swung into the foyer of the club in perfect step. They wore the one piece silver uniforms and red and blue helmets of the Litz Security Corporation. They halted in front of the doorman. Each one was at least two metres tall. They towered over everyone else in the foyer. The centre one of the three saluted the doorman.

‘Guardian unit reporting as requested. Which is the client?’

The doorman indicated A.A. Catto. The centre guardian turned and saluted again,

‘How may we serve you, miss?’

‘My companion and I have decided to walk home. We’d like you to escort us. I trust you’re adequately equipped?’

The guardian touched the long nightstick and heavy-duty stun-gun at his belt. His companions were similarly armed.

‘We are equipped for anything that might occur in the street.’

‘We might as well proceed then.’

The centre guardian bowed and held the door open. The one on his left preceded Reave and A.A. Catto into the street. The one on his right brought up the rear. After the darkness of the club, the street was a blaze of glory. Although no daylight was built into the environment of Litz, and it was a city of perpetual night, its illuminations were magnificent to look upon. At street level each ground car was festooned with lights. The stores, theatres, fun palaces and brothels vied with each other in the size and splendour of constantly shifting, glowing, illuminated signs. Overhead, searchlights slashed across the sky, probing the darkness with their slim fingers.

Every window in the high buildings showed its own light, and the lighter than air craft that floated between the tall towers all carried their own spots and riding lights. Some were even floodlit from below.

A few people hung round the carpeted sidewalks outside the cabarets and casinos. Small groups of whores made the come-on outside the bordellos and nudie bars, but apart from them the streets were almost empty of pedestrians. A.A. Catto and Reave only passed a few isolated people, all escorted by tall clones from the various security services. Every so often a black-uniformed, two-man foot patrol from the Litz Department of Correction would stroll past. The LDCs weren’t clones. They were normal men who enjoyed the dangerous and brutal work.

The streets of Litz may not have been safe for unprotected individuals on foot, but for ground cars it was a different matter. The huge shining vehicles streamed past in a continuous procession down the wide, ten lane thoroughfares. Their lights added to the general display of the endless Litz night.

A.A. Catto, Reave and their three guardians reached the first intersection. As they waited for the traffic control to change, the guardian who seemed to have the role of leader looked at her questioningly.

‘Where do you wish to go, miss?’

‘The Orchid House.’

A.A. Catto waved her hand towards the slim pyramid that stood a few blocks away, towering over the surrounding buildings. The guard looked at it and then back to the girl.

‘If we took the main throughways it would be a longer walk, but there would be less possibility of incident.’

A.A. Catto grinned at him.

‘Let’s take the back streets, huh? I’m sure you boys can take care of any incident.’

The guardian bowed deferentially.

‘As you wish, miss.’

Reave looked round dubiously, but didn’t say anything. Despite the time he’d spent in Litz, he was still afraid of the menacing nighttime city.

They crossed the intersection and walked on down the throughway for another block. Then they turned off into a side street. It was like entering another world. The bright lights were left behind. Dull yellow street lights replaced the flashing reds, greens, blues and golds of the main streets. They had only walked along the mean back way for a few minutes when a group of figures loomed up in front of them. The three guardians spread out in front of A.A. Catto and Reave, their hands going to their long nightsticks.

Faint glimmers of light were reflected from the shoulders of the figures that clustered round the lamp standard. A.A. Catto felt a tingle of excitement run through her. They were one of the notorious juv gangs that roamed the back ways of the city, terrorizing anyone who strayed away from the bright lights.

The guardians ushered Reave and A.A. Catto out into the middle of the road. They spread out and formed a loose line between their charges and the juvs. As they came closer they could make out their distinctive outfits. The light had reflected from their shiny silver jackets. They were woven out of steel thread, with solid metal shoulders that rose into twin spikes on either side of the wearer’s head. There was also another steel plate set between the shoulders, which bore the emblem of the wearer’s gang. The outfit was completed by black tights with a decoratively padded crutch and heavy black knee boots, and, of course, the haircut. The juv haircuts varied from month to month. Right then, they were favouring it close cropped at the sides and very long over the top and back, with an elaborately curled quiff hanging down over their foreheads.

As A.A. Catto and her companions came within a couple of metres of the juvs, she saw that there were eight of them. They all appeared to be between the ages of twelve and fourteen. The tallest of them pulled a telescope knife from a pouch on his wide, studded belt and snapped it open. The guardians’ hands dropped to their stunners. The juv raised his hand, inspected his fingers. He jabbed at one offending nail, grinned wolfishly and flicked the knife shut.

With the three guardians keeping themselves between their charges and the gang, A.A. Catto and Reave walked slowly past. A couple of the youths made obscene gestures, but none of them seemed to fancy taking on the heavily armed guardians. Reave kept looking back until the darkness once again swallowed up the gang. He let out his breath in a noisy gasp.

‘Thank Christ that’s all over.’

A.A. Catto looked at him contemptuously.

‘Were you frightened, then?’

Reave nodded.

‘Damn right I was frightened.’

‘The guardians would have looked after us.’

Reave looked doubtful.

‘If they’d decided to jump us, any one of us could have got a knife in the gut.’

A.A. Catto pursed her lips.

‘They wouldn’t have jumped us. They knew the guardians would have burned them down.’

‘From what I’ve heard that wouldn’t deter them. They can be totally suicidal if they feel like it.’

A.A. Catto sneered.

‘From what you’ve heard?’

Reave shrugged but said nothing. They walked on in silence. The rest of the journey was uneventful until, just a short distance from the towering bulk of the Orchid House, they passed the dirty grey lights of a backway greasy spoon. A ragged figure was huddled in the doorway. As the small group walked past, it suddenly twitched and leaped to its feet. It quickly dodged past the guardians and grabbed at A.A. Catto’s arm.

‘Please miss, let’s use your credit card, just for a meal, please miss.’

The voice was high and vaguely female, but the figure was too filthy and tattered for anyone to say, for sure, even whether it was human. A.A. Catto tried to shake it off, but it clung on with grim determination.

‘Please miss, just a meal, let’s use your card.’

The guardians swung round and pulled out their nightsticks. As the first blow struck, the creature fell to the ground screaming. It jerked and twisted, covering its head with its thin arms and pulling its knees up to protect its stomach. The guardians continued beating on it with their clubs until it ceased to move. Each time a blow fell there was a dull squishing thud. A pool of blood slowly spread over the surface of the road. When the figure lay still, one of the guardians prodded it with his toe. Satisfied that there was no sign of life, he hung his nightstick back on his belt. His two companions did the same. From the doorway of the greasy spoon a group of more ragged figures watched silently. They continued to stare as A.A. Catto, Reave and the three guardians walked away.

It was only another block before they reached the throughway and the imposing entrance of the Orchid House. No more of the back area people bothered them. As the black glass doors of the Orchid House slid open, the guardians saluted, turned on their heels and marched away. A.A. Catto and Reave entered the foyer and the huge doors hissed shut behind them.

After the back ways, the Orchid House was an opulent paradise. The triangular floor was made from a single piece of polished marble. It was dominated by a huge fountain. The three walls, crossed by tier after tier of apartment balconies, sloped slightly inwards, and rose almost as far as the eye could see. They met at a point over a thousand metres above. Artificial sunlight streamed down from a huge white sphere set in the top of the pyramid. Cascades of flowers and climbing plants hung like long garlands from the balconies. They were a splash of wild colour against the white walls.

Reave followed A. A, Catto towards the lifts. These were black spheres that rose from the floor. At rest, they sat in hemispherical depressions at the side of the foyer. They moved in straight lines, parallel to the wall, without any visible support. Reave still hadn’t figured out how they worked. A.A. Catto touched an illuminated stud on the side of the lift and a section of the side silently opened. She stepped inside and Reave did the same. The interior of the lift was lit by a soft red light. Muted music came from a hidden speaker. A.A. Catto pressed the control for the ninety-third floor. Reave ran his fingers through his hair.

‘Sure is good to be back home.’

A.A. Catto’s eyes narrowed. She looked sideways at Reave.

‘Don’t get too pleased too soon, honey.’

Reave turned and looked at her in surprise.

‘What’s wrong now?’

‘You’ve been giving me a pain all evening.’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘Come on, nothing. You’ve pissed me off, and you’re going to pay for it.’

‘Please, isn’t it a bit late in the day for more games?’

A.A. Catto held up her ring finger.

‘No games, sweetie. You are going to suffer.’

Reave opened his mouth to speak. He thought better of it, and closed it again. If the fancy took her, A.A. Catto had enough dope in the apartment to keep her awake for days. The game could go on for ages. He felt sick to his stomach. The lift stopped at the ninety-third floor and Reave followed her out, fingering the collar round his neck.

***

Jeb Stuart Ho, despite his concentration, was beginning to lose all sense of time. He could no longer remember how long he and the Minstrel Boy had been out in the nothings. The lizard had settled down to a steady, bounding lope, exactly as though it was running on hard ground. The lizard seemed to have a very definite sense of purpose. That was the only reassuring thing about the whole situation.

Jeb Stuart Ho looked to his left. He could just about make out the Minstrel Boy against the strange glittering grey mist. The image of the man on the lizard kept shifting and breaking up. It was only when the two of them were very close together that he could see the Minstrel Boy and his mount clearly. At one point, the Minstrel Boy had drifted some distance away and vanished altogether. It was then that Jeb Stuart Ho had come close to panic. He hadn’t experienced a feeling like that since he was a small child. The brotherhood discipline had kept him from going over the edge, but he’d been immeasurably relieved when the Minstrel Boy had finally flickered into view again.

Ho stretched out his hand. It was a signal to the Minstrel Boy that he wanted to say something. Unless they were actually touching, there was no point in speaking. The words became lost and jumbled in the howling silence of the bright greyness. The Minstrel Boy moved towards him and grasped his hand.

‘What’s the trouble, Killer?’

Jeb Stuart Ho disliked the nickname the Minstrel Boy was trying to saddle him with, but he didn’t complain. There would be time enough for that when they reached somewhere tangible.

‘Where are we now?’

‘In the nothings.’

‘I know that. What I meant was, will we get somewhere soon?’

Jeb Stuart Ho made himself act very patiently when talking to the Minstrel Boy. The Minstrel Boy grinned at him.

‘Yeah … soon.’

‘How soon?’

‘Dunno. Time’s pretty relative out here.’

‘Relative to what?’

The Minstrel Boy laughed.

‘Relative to just about anything that’s going. That’s why it’s so hard to estimate.’

Jeb Stuart Ho was sure that he was deliberately trying to confuse him. He wasn’t sure why.

‘Are you sure you know where you are?’

‘Sure I’m sure. I always know where I am. I’m famous for it.’

The Minstrel Boy let go of Jeb Stuart Ho’s hand, and they drifted apart. The Minstrel Boy’s image began to flicker as the space between them increased,

Despite all his training, the lack of time sense weighed heavily on Jeb Stuart Ho. Nothing had prepared him for being mounted on the galloping lizard, rushing headlong into seemingly eternal greyness. He closed his eyes and tried to put himself into an intermediate state of trance. At first it was impossible, but gradually he felt himself merging with the strange, shattered universe. It was the sound of a voice that eventually brought him back to the material world.

‘Come on, Killer. Wake up, what’s wrong with you?’

Jeb Stuart Ho opened his eyes. The Minstrel Boy was standing beside him, tugging at his leg.

‘What’s the matter with you, I thought your brain, had fused?’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘I was meditating.’

‘No shit?’

Ho suddenly realized that he could hear the Minstrel Boy quite clearly without their actually touching. They were obviously out of the nothings. He looked around. They were standing on a huge, even expanse of grey rock. It was flat and featureless. The sky above was a lighter shade of grey, and the air was damp and cold. The lizards were moving about uncomfortably. Ho shivered, and pulled his cloak tight round his shoulders.

‘Are we on the same level as Litz?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘Somewhere on the way.’

‘Where?’

‘That’s hard to say.’

‘I thought you took pride in knowing where you are?’

The Minstrel Boy scowled.

‘I don’t take pride, I know.’

‘Should a developed faculty not be a source of pride?’

‘I know, that’s all.’

Jeb Stuart Ho swung a leg over the lizard’s back.

‘As you wish.’

He slid to the ground.

‘What is this place?’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘It has no name. By rights it shouldn’t be here. I can’t see what keeps it stable.’

‘Why did we stop here?’

‘The lizards stopped. They don’t seem happy.’

‘What has happened to them?’

The Minstrel Boy took off his hat and ran his fingers through his curly hair.

‘I don’t know. Their minds seem to be closed. I can’t get across at all.’

It was the first time Jeb Stuart Ho had seen the Minstrel Boy look genuinely worried. He hesitated before he spoke again.

‘Should we not continue with caution and find out why the lizards have brought us to this place?’

The Minstrel Boy looked down at the ground.

‘I’d just as soon turn back.’

‘You know I can’t do that.’

‘Sure.’

Jeb Stuart Ho remounted his lizard. The Minstrel Boy reluctantly did the same. Before they started to move the Minstrel Boy looked across at Ho.

‘I really don’t like this. Just remember that.’

Ho looked grimly ahead.

‘I’ll remember.’

The Minstrel Boy dug his spurs hard into the lizard. It lurched away at a half-hearted waddle. Jeb Stuart Ho’s mount trailed after it in the same lethargic manner. They continued their slow progress for over an hour. A strange, cone-shaped promontory appeared on the horizon. As they gradually approached it, the lizards became increasingly restive and uneasy. They were awkward to handle, and kept trying to stray away from the Minstrel Boy’s course.

About three hundred metres from the slope of the cone, the lizards stopped dead and refused to go any further. They stood still, shifting their weight from one foot to another and swinging their long necks from side to side. Jeb Stuart Ho and the Minstrel Boy both dismounted. Whatever was affecting the lizards was also affecting the two men. The Minstrel Boy had broken out in a cold sweat, and Jeb Stuart Ho felt an irrational fear trying to take hold of him. He exerted the maximum control on his mind and looked at the Minstrel Boy.

‘There is something terribly wrong here.’

The Minstrel Boy had started to shake. His voice came out as a strangled croak.

‘Let’s get out of here.’

Jeb Stuart Ho gripped him by the shoulder.

‘Relax, breathe slowly and deeply. A man may run from an external danger, but cannot run from fear in his mind.’

The Minstrel Boy nodded. Sweat was still pouring off him. It was obvious he was trying to keep himself together, but when he spoke his voice was cracking on the verge of hysteria.

‘Let’s get the hell out of here! Now! I can’t stand it.’

‘Do not succumb to the fear. The fear of fear is the poison of the soul.’

‘I … can’t take it!’

The Minstrel Boy’s voice was almost screaming. Jeb Stuart Ho took his face in both hands. He massaged the Minstrel Boy’s neck.

‘Think, be calm, use your intelligence. What is this thing?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t think.’

‘Where does it come from?’

The Minstrel Boy could no longer speak. He waved his hand in the direction of the cone. His legs began to give way and he clung to Jeb Stuart Ho. Ho gently pulled him back to his feet.

‘We must go to the cone and make this thing cease.’

‘No! No! No!’

The Minstrel Boy slipped into uncontrollable hysterics. Jeb Stuart Ho slapped him hard across the face, and he fell silent. Jeb Stuart Ho took him by the arm and, half supporting him, began to lead him towards the cone. They stumbled for about a hundred metres. The mind-wrenching fear seemed to grow stronger. Then the Minstrel Boy groaned and sank to his knees.

‘I can’t go on.’

‘The superior man faces his fear and in facing it overcomes his weakness.’

The Minstrel Boy fell on his side. He rolled over and pulled his knees up to his chest.

‘I … can’t … do … it!’

Jeb Stuart Ho knelt down beside the Minstrel Boy.

‘If you don’t strive to overcome it, it could kill you.’

‘I don’t care!’

The Minstrel Boy lay still with his eyes tightly closed and his face contorted. Jeb Stuart Ho stood up, and began walking up the side of the cone by himself. Each step became an inhuman effort. The fear had become a physical force. His legs were leaden. It was like wading in sand. He stumbled frequently. As he neared the top, it became almost more than he could bear. The sky glowed an evil, menacing red. The rock appeared to reflect it, and danced with flame. The force battered at him like a hurricane. Black hallucinations, flapping like murderous bats, swooped at the edge of his vision.

He reached the top. The force became absolute torture. It was pushing at him so hard that it seemed to be tearing the flesh from his bones. It screamed around him like monsters from some awful hell. In front of him, in the very summit of the cone, was a circular depression. Lying in it, on a bed of soft sand, were nine gold eggs. Each one was about half the height of a man. Jeb Stuart Ho knew immediately that they were the source of the power. His instinct was to destroy them. His hand went to his gun. It was like moving in slow motion. Inch by inch his fingers moved towards his belt. All the force seemed to be concentrated on his right arm. It was filled with a burning cold that gnawed at the bone and muscle. His fingers curled round the butt. That too was deathly cold. His fingers froze to it. As he slowly drew the gun from the holster, it felt as if the flesh of his hand was being ripped apart. He slowly raised the gun. Its weight seemed unbearable. The muscles in his arm felt like they were going to snap. Gradually the gun came in line with the clutch of eggs. He eased back the trigger. The scream around him rose in pitch. It felt as though his ears had started bleeding, maybe his very brain. The eggs seemed far away. His vision tunnelled. He desperately hauled on the trigger. It would hardly move. He began to black out, then, through it all, he heard the Minstrel Boy screaming.

‘Don’t! Don’t! For god’s sake don’t do it! They’re only trying to protect themselves.’

It suddenly all fell into place. Jeb Stuart Ho touched the half formed entities inside the gold shells. He felt the power of the scarcely developed minds. He felt their fear and their vulnerability. He was awed by what they might become. For an instant everything hung poised. The gun fell from his fingers. He sank, crosslegged, to the ground. He forced his mind to be calm. The beings’ fear still washed over him, but it was no longer aimed directly at him. He gathered all his strength and slowly directed peace and gentleness. He meant them no harm. He projected that as hard as he could. Veins pumped in his forehead as he tried to thrust his way through the fear.

He reached them. His thoughts penetrated through to the beings in the eggs. They seized on his projections as something new and strange. They dragged it out of him with a greedy hunger. They were insatiable. He hung on to stop his mind being dragged from him. He begged them to stop, but their infant greed demanded more and more. Jeb Stuart Ho reached his final limit. His consciousness was drained away.

The world went black. His body toppled, and rolled down the side of the cone like a discarded puppet whose strings had been cut.

He woke up to find the Minstrel Boy wiping his face with a damp cloth. He grinned at Ho.

‘Shit, Killer. I really thought you were dead for sure, this time.’

Jeb Stuart Ho raised his head.

‘How long have I been here?’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘Maybe a couple of hours.’

‘What happened?’

‘Don’t ask me. You were up there, you did it. One minute all hell was breaking loose, then suddenly it was beautiful, like the dawn coming up.’

Jeb Stuart Ho sat up. The landscape had completely changed. The ground was still grey rock, but it was broken up by clumps of green vegetation growing out of cracks in its surface. Tiny streams trickled into crystal clear pools. The sky was a deep even blue. It was as if the beings had taken apart his mind, and reshaped their environment according to what they found there. A little distance away, the lizards grazed happily on the vegetation.

Jeb Stuart Ho carefully stood up. He had expected his body to show some signs of strain after the ordeal. He was surprised to find there were none. He felt as though he had just woken from a comfortable sleep. He looked at the cone. It radiated a glow of benign contentment. His gun was still lying at the foot of the slope, where it had come to rest after he had dropped it. He walked over and picked it up. As he touched the weapon, the sky seemed to darken. The lizards looked up in alarm. He quickly dropped it into its holster and things resumed their previous calm. The lizards returned to their chewing.

The Minstrel Boy walked over to where Jeb Stuart Ho was standing at the foot of the cone. He was grinning happily. His friendliness was almost unnatural. He put his arm round Ho’s shoulders.

‘Looks like it turned out okay.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘It would seem so.’

The Minstrel Boy looked up at the cone.

‘I’m almost sorry to leave.’

‘We have to leave.’

‘I knew you’d say that.’

‘We should start.’

The Minstrel Boy stared at the ground. He seemed reluctant to start back into the nothings.

‘It’s like I’m thinking we ought to leave some kind of mark on this place.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him in surprise.

‘Why?’

‘I dunno, just so we know we’ve been here.’

‘Surely we know that without leaving our mark here?’

‘Maybe we should give it a name or something?’

Jeb Stuart Ho gestured towards the top of the cone.

‘They must have a name for this place.’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘Yeah, maybe. I dunno.’

He put two fingers in his mouth and gave a high-pitched whistle. The lizards looked up, and began lumbering slowly towards where the two men were standing. Ho and the Minstrel Boy each caught the reins of his own mount, and climbed into the saddle. They turned the lizards and rode slowly past the cone. Jeb Stuart Ho paused for a moment and stared hard at it, then he took a deep breath and started after the Minstrel Boy.

***

A little grey-haired man in a quilted dressing gown tugged open the lift gate and padded across the frayed carpet of the Leader Hotel lobby, and up to the reception desk. He waited until the desk clerk looked up from his comic book and deigned to notice him.

‘Yeah?’

The little man cleared his throat, and tugged the faded robe closer round his bony shoulders.

‘Did my letter come?’

The desk clerk didn’t even bother to look at the pigeonholes behind him.

‘Nothing came.’

The little man remained where he was.

‘Are you sure? Couldn’t you check?’

The desk clerk put down his comic book and looked at the little man with cold patience.

‘Nothing came, Arthur. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that and every day you’ve been here. Nothing ever comes for you, Arthur. Okay?’

Arthur cleared his throat again.

‘I’ll try tomorrow.’

The desk clerk turned over the page of his comic book.

‘You do that.’

Arthur turned away and shuffled back to the lift. Billy Oblivion sprawled in the sagging armchair and watched the tiny drama without interest. It happened every day. Every day Arthur came down from his tiny room on the twenty-seventh floor to look for the letter that would change his life. Every day the letter failed to arrive. The lift door rattled shut and Arthur returned to the twenty-seventh floor. The desk clerk went back to his comic book, and Billy went on staring at the semi-erotic frieze that was slowly crumbling away from the dirty pink wall.

For most of its residents the Leader Hotel was the end of the line. A tall warren of tiny rooms and dim corridors that smelled of decay and urine. As long as you kept paying the rent you were wholly, totally free to overdose, drink yourself to death or simply grow numb. Billy hoped that none of those things would happen to him. He hoped that one day he’d manage to get out of the place and into something better. Billy’s hope didn’t guarantee him any protection against those fates. Most people in the Leader Hotel hoped for something, but still it happened to them. The Leader Hotel was the last stop for the non-people, the ones who, for one reason or another, didn’t have credit cards.

Billy Oblivion didn’t have a credit card. He’d never had one. He’d wandered into Litz without one, found that the good life was closed to him, and wound up at the Leader. He’d been there ever since. Billy the pimp they called him now. That was on account of Darlene. Darlene had picked him up, and kept him ever since. Darlene made enough to keep them both surviving at the Leader, but never enough for them to get out. Darlene didn’t have a credit card. It had been taken away for some unspecified crime. Darlene never went into the exact details.

Not having a credit card created problems for Darlene in her profession, and Darlene’s problems automatically became Billy’s problems. Not having a credit card meant that her tricks couldn’t pay her by a straightforward credit transfer. She had to operate a kind of barter system. She fucked them, or did whatever else they wanted, and they slipped her some kind of small valuable. These she unloaded on the desk clerk, who credited them with enough to pay the rent and live. He, of course, only gave them a fraction of what the stuff was worth, and made sure they never got sufficiently ahead actually to get out of the hotel.

The previous night, however, Billy and Darlene had made more of a mess of things than usual. Darlene had had a reasonably good afternoon. She’d turned three tricks. Three tricks in an afternoon was good for her. It wasn’t that Darlene was unattractive, but here was no way she could compete with the big legitimate brothels. They creamed off most of the custom that just wanted to get laid. Darlene had to make do with the ones who were funny for lowlife. She got the ones who liked to follow a good-looking non-person back to the Leader, the ones who got an extra kick that way.

The three tricks the previous afternoon had made Billy and Darlene a shade overconfident. They’d blown all their credit on a bottle of hotel booze and a package of funaids. Darlene had been certain that if she hit the street later that night, not that night and day made much difference in the permanent dark of the city, she could make the next day’s room rent.

Of course, it had all been a fantasy. The booze and the pills had made sure that they’d become too fused to move from the bed until the house detective had come knocking with his regular morning call of pay up or quit. They didn’t have the room rent, but the desk clerk and the house detective had been very good about it. They’d let Billy sit around in the lobby until Darlene hustled up the rent. They hadn’t even made them move their stuff out, just taken away the key.

Billy waited. It was kind of embarrassing but there was nothing else he could do. The lobby of the Leader Hotel was particularly depressing. It smelled of squalor and decay. The potted palms in the corner had long ago become brown, dry mummies, but no one had bothered to replace them or even throw them out. The carpet was worn into holes in a number of places. The ancient creaking lift only worked by a miracle, and there seemed to be no logical reason why the scarred and battered armchairs that stood dotted about in lonely groups hadn’t fallen into shapeless ruin a long time ago. The high ceiling was marked with huge brown patches of damp.

Billy tried to distract himself by watching the vid that was mounted to the right of the reception desk. Its colour was blotchy and the 3D was alarmingly out of alignment. The only thing that could be said in its favour was that it worked at all. Not that he could see it all that clearly. His view was constantly interrupted by the swaying heads of three old winos who clustered around it as though it actually gave out heat. They were avidly watching one of the multiple hanging shows. Billy wondered how they managed to enjoy it so much. Everyone knew that the hanging shows were fixed.

After another hour, Billy’s patience was finally rewarded. Darlene walked in with a fat little citizen in tow. He was just the type who always seemed to go for her. Pink with nervousness and excitement, he was sweating profusely into his pale blue one-piece suit. Dark stain had formed under his armpits. It was obvious that his dry-all-day anti-perspirant wasn’t holding up under the strain.

Darlene was at least a head taller than the trick. Billy had to admit that she looked good. Her red dress scarcely covered her arse, leaving a flash of inviting thigh above her matching stockings and boots. The thin straps of her red suspenders added an extra touch of excitement. The red ensemble contrasted so nicely with her jet-black skin and close-cropped hair. There was no mistaking that Darlene was a good-looking broad. Billy was proud to have her. He loved that black skin, and he hoped she’d never make enough to get the colour change she was always bitching about.

Billy gave no sign of recognition as she stopped by the reception desk and turned pointedly towards the trick. It didn’t do for a pimp to be too much in evidence while his woman was hustling. It tended to make the tricks nervous. Darlene winked at him from behind the fat man’s back, but Billy didn’t respond. Then she went to work. She took the trick by the arm and steered him up to the reception desk.

‘I guess you wouldn’t mind giving my friend the desk clerk a little present, would you? He could get into trouble for letting me take you up to my room. You can use your credit card, honey. It’s okay. It goes through the hotel.’

The little man looked apprehensively at the desk clerk.

‘The payment won’t be traced, will it?’

Darlene and the desk clerk both smiled reassuringly.

‘Not a chance of that.’

The fat man reluctantly produced his credit card. The desk clerk dropped it into the hotel transfer unit. He dialled out the appropriate amount and handed it back. Billy sighed quietly as the desk clerk gave Darlene the room key. They were good for another day. She grinned at him and firmly propelled the fat man towards the lilt.

‘This way, honey. I know we’re going to have a fantastic time. Just fantastic.’

The lift door rattled shut and they disappeared from sight. Billy stood up and brushed a bit of chair cover from his yellow satin suit. He straightened the diamante collar, brushed back his curly hair and strolled over to the desk.

‘Did you clip him for enough so I can get a drink?’

The desk clerk grinned.

‘He got clipped but good.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I did you a favour, kid. I kind of like you and your woman so I got two days’ rent, a bit for me and a bit over. I figured you could use it after the state you got into last night.’

Billy didn’t need to be reminded of the comedown he was going through. He did his best to look grateful.

‘Give me a drink.’

The desk clerk reached under the counter and produced a bottle of schnapps and two glasses. He filled one and then cocked an eyebrow at Billy. Billy knew the ritual. He grinned.

‘Go ahead, friend. Have one on me.’

He filled the second glass and downed it in one gulp. Billy took a little more time with his. He had to treat his head gently. It was in a bad way. The desk clerk was already smiling, looking for a refill. Billy nodded, and the desk clerk took another shot. He was just angling for another when Lame Nancy hobbled in. She grinned at Billy.

‘Found some credit then, stud?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘I like to see young people happy.’

Billy looked dubiously at Nancy. She was always showing up just after Darlene. Billy knew she was doing her best to try and get Darlene away from him. He wondered if she actually followed her about. Lame Nancy was a dyke who liked to keep her girls working. She had four set up in different rooms of the Leader. Her ambition seemed to be to make Darlene number five. Lame Nancy nodded towards the bottle of schnapps.

‘Is there a drink in that for me?’

Billy’s lip curled.

‘Depends who’s paying for it.’

Nancy sneered and patted Billy’s cheek. ‘I’ll pay, sweet thing. Though I don’t know what you’re worried about. That little honey of yours is upstairs making you the price of a few drinks.’

‘You got four, so I figure you can buy your own.’

Lame Nancy nodded towards the bottle. The desk clerk produced a third glass and poured Nancy a shot. She swallowed it in one gulp, and nodded for another. While she downed the second, Billy looked at her carefully. He knew that she’d probably take Darlene away if he gave her the chance. Lame Nancy looked striking and had a powerful personality. It radiated from her as she leaned against the bar in one of her favourite gunfighter poses. There was no denying that she was bizarre enough to attract Darlene. She gave an overall impression of being totally white. Her hair was white and cut into a shaggy crewcut, her skin had been done into an opalescent pearl finish. She wore a white body stocking, silver wedge-heeled sandals and a highly polished, stainless steel belt.

The whole outfit seemed designed to contrast sharply with the black callipers that supported her withered leg. Even these seemed to be designed for maximum shock. They were made from highly polished black steel, inlaid with an elaborate pattern of gold damascene. Lame Nancy cut a strange, impressive figure.

The lift door rattled back, and Billy switched his attention away from Nancy. The fat man hurried out of the lift, straight for the street door. He was still sweating, and avoided everyone’s eyes. Nancy laughed.

‘Looks like your sweetie will be down with something for you soon, Billy dear.’

Billy didn’t say anything. He knew he was being baited. Nancy’s grin broadened.

‘You ought to get that honey of yours to pull in a bit more of the goods. I know I would.’

Billy scowled.

‘Keep out of my business, will you.’

Nancy laughed again.

‘I intend to, sweet thing. There ain’t enough in it for me.’

The lift rattled again. This time it was Darlene. Billy walked across the lobby to meet her. He wanted to head her off before she could join Nancy at the desk. He knew Nancy would try and get her drunk, and be dropping all kinds of broad hints about how much better a time Darlene would have with her rather than Billy. Billy didn’t need that. He grinned at Darlene.

‘Hi, how did it go?’

Darlene scowled.

‘It went.’

‘Did you get anything?’

Darlene fished between her breasts and came up with a small platinum pacifier.

‘Enough.’

‘Great.’

‘That pig behind the desk will still short change us.’

‘So ‘what can we do?’

‘What can you do? You’re supposed to take care of business. I just do the work.’

Billy took hold of her arm.

‘Don’t get mad.’

‘I ain’t mad. I just don’t need it.’

‘Was it rough?’

Darlene’s mouth curled into a sneer.

‘Oh no, not rough, just another trick.’

‘What happened?’

‘You really want to know?’

‘If it helps.’

‘If it helps? Well, if it helps, he got me to squat on the floor of the shower while he pissed on me, and then I had to suck him off. Okay? Does that help? All for one lousy trinket. You know, sometimes I think you like to hear what I do with the tricks. Maybe you get a kick out of it.’

Darlene was working herself up into a frenzy. Billy wasn’t sure whether to placate or punch her. While he was making up his mind, she started again.

‘Maybe you’d like to have a go yourself. You fancy me squatting in front of you while you pissed over me?’

Billy shook his head.

‘No, of course not.’

He wondered if he would enjoy it. He’d never thought about it before. He smiled at Darlene. The tirade had gone on long enough.

‘Listen honey, we’ve got a bit of credit, why don’t we get a bottle and go upstairs?’

Darlene didn’t seem about to give in.

‘You want to end up the same way we did today? I’m going out again to see what I can get.’

Before Billy could say anything, she had pulled away from him and was marching across the lobby, swaying her hips. She looked straight ahead, avoiding the stares of Nancy and the desk clerk. As she was about to flounce out into the street she almost collided with two men coming into the hotel.

‘Why the fuck don’t you look where you’re going?’

One of the men stepped back and bowed slightly.

‘I’m sorry.’

Darlene was going to start complaining, when she took a second look at them. One was a tall thin man, wrapped in a black cape. His straight hair hung to his shoulders, and the hilt of an evil-looking sword protruded from the cape. The other one was shorter and, if anything, thinner. A mass of black unruly curls were stuffed under a wide-brimmed hat. He wore a black frock coat and high boots. He had the same hard air of determination as his companion. Darlene ducked hastily out of the door. Her tantrum was completely forgotten. She didn’t want to stick around and find out what the two strangers wanted.

Billy felt much the same way, only, to him, they weren’t both strangers. He recognized the Minstrel Boy straight away. They’d been through a lot of trouble together, and most of the time Billy had wound up looking stupid. He could imagine the Minstrel Boy’s sneers when he found out that Billy had sunk to pimping in Litz. Billy stepped quickly back into the lift before the Minstrel Boy noticed him.

The Minstrel Boy and Jeb Stuart Ho walked up to the desk. Lame Nancy and the desk clerk both looked at them curiously. The winos went on staring at the Execution Hour.

The desk clerk put down his comic book as they approached.

‘You want some rooms, gentlemen?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘Not right now.’

It was the Minstrel Boy who was doing the talking. It had been his idea to make the Leader Hotel their first stop. They’d left the lizards in the pen at the edge of the nothings, and taken a ground cab into downtown Litz. In the past, the Minstrel Boy had found the Leader an ideal point at which to plug into the city’s wealth of gossip and rumour. The desk clerk scowled at him.

‘If you don’t want rooms, what do you want?’

‘Some information.’

‘We sell room and board, we don’t give out information. If you want information, watch the screen. Only don’t do it here if you ain’t rented no room.’

The Minstrel Boy smiled.

‘Since when did information stop being worth something in Litz?’

The desk clerk looked sideways at him.

‘You willing to pay?’

The Minstrel Boy nodded. He turned to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘You got your credit card?’

Ho put his hand under his cloak, and passed a card to the Minstrel Boy. The eyes of both Nancy and the desk clerk fastened on the black-edged brotherhood credit card as he placed it on the desk and grinned.

‘Why don’t you take whatever you think ten minutes of your conversation is worth?’

The desk clerk gingerly picked up the card. He seemed almost nervous of it. Nancy watched intently as he placed it in the transfer unit. He dialled out a modest sum. He looked up at the Minstrel Boy.

‘Is that okay?’

‘If that’s what you think you’re worth, then sure it’s okay.’

The desk clerk handed the card back to the Minstrel Boy. He turned it over and then passed it to Jeb Stuart Ho. The desk clerk began to look nervous.

‘What do you gentlemen want to know?’

Jeb Stuart Ho placed the tri-di of A.A. Catto in front of the desk clerk.

‘Have you ever seen this woman?’

The desk clerk shook his head.

‘She’s never been in here.’

The Minstrel Boy looked at him sharply.

‘You sure about that?’

‘Never forget a face.’

‘You ever hear of someone called A.A. Catto?’

‘I heard the name.’

‘What did you hear about her?’

‘I heard people talk about her.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘Rich little bitch by all accounts. She came into town. Started doing the society circuit. The nightclubs, the best parties. The rumour was that she was kind of wild. Like, you know, vicious. Into pain, other people’s pain. By all accounts she keeps herself looking like a young kid. That’s about all I know.’

‘Is she still in town?’

‘As far as I know.’

‘Do you know where she’s living?’

‘I heard she had an apartment at the Orchid House.’

‘The Orchid House, where’s that?’

‘It’s the big new apartment building. The big triangular one, right in the middle of downtown. You can’t miss it.’

The Minstrel Boy turned to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I guess that’s about it. All you have to do is get down there,’

The desk clerk laughed.

‘It ain’t as easy as that.’

The Minstrel Boy turned back to him.

‘Why not?’

‘You’ll, never get inside the place. Not unless the lady wants to see you.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s like a goddamn fortress. That’s part of the service. Unless you’ve got a pass from a resident you’ll never get past the security. There’s a whole army of them.’

The desk clerk looked at him slyly.

‘That’s if the lady doesn’t want to see you.’

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘The lady hasn’t had a chance to get to know us yet.’

He thought for a minute.

‘Suppose we took an apartment in the building?’

The desk clerk shook his head.

‘Not a chance. There’s a waiting list a mile long.’

‘Can’t you jump the list? I mean, if you’ve got the credit, surely anything’s possible?’

‘Not there it’s not. Everyone who wants to move in there’s got credit. You have to pay a fortune in bribes just to get on the list.’

‘So we’d better make friends with the lady.’

The desk clerk grinned.

‘That’s the best way. Only the lady doesn’t seem to be too friendly.’

The Minstrel Boy smiled.

‘Maybe.’

He glanced at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘My friend here can be amazingly charming when he has to be.’

The desk clerk looked across at Jeb Stuart Ho, and then back to the Minstrel Boy.

‘He doesn’t say much.’

‘That’s part of his chirm.’

There was a pause. The desk clerk looked down at the transfer unit, and then back up at the Minstrel Boy.

‘There’s nothing else you’d like to know?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘I think we’ve had our money’s worth.’

He turned away, and looked at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I don’t think we’ll achieve much more here.’

‘We know now where the woman lives.’

They walked towards the door and out into the street. Nancy watched them thoughtfully until they disappeared from sight.

***

As Jeb Stuart Ho and the Minstrel Boy emerged from the Leader Hotel, back into the glittering streets of Litz, the executive paused. He looked up and down the street. An airship drifted overhead about fifty metres up, following the line of the street. Lights shone out from the gondola. The sound of laughter and a ragtime piano drifted down. The Minstrel Boy looked up into the darkness and grinned.

‘They sure know how to have parties in this town.’

Jeb Stuart Ho pursed his lips.

‘They seem to know very little else.’

The Minstrel Boy shot him a sideways glance.

‘You ought to check out a few, Killer. It’ll be an education for you.’

Ho continued to look up and down the street.

‘My education is a process that continues without the need to study such things as parties.’

‘Hell, you ought to relax.’

‘My task allows me no space to relax.’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘There’s no hope for you, man.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked confused.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand you. Hope can have no influence on probability.’

The airship drifted on down the street. The Minstrel Boy watched it go. Then he looked back at Ho.

”What’s the matter with you, Killer? Why do you keep looking up and down the street like you were lost?’

‘I was computing my next move until you began to talk about parties.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Do not be sorry. All information is of value. Unfortunately parties are not particularly relevant.’

‘Was that a joke?’

‘What?’

‘Parties not being particularly relevant.’

‘I fail to understand.’

The Minstrel Boy waved his hand in despair.

‘Forget it. If you’re stuck for a next move, why don’t you pay me off?’

‘I may need you again.’

‘You may what?’

‘I may need you again.’

‘Shit! I got you to Litz. What more do you want? You don’t need me to help you knock the chick off.’

‘She might leave the city. I’d need you if that should happen.’

The Minstrel Boy began to get exasperated.

‘Okay, okay, if that happens, come and see me. Maybe we can make a deal. I might even take the job. In the meantime, pay me off. I want to have a little fun. I ain’t about to watch you hunt this chick all over town.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded thoughtfully.

‘How would you like to be paid?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘The way I figured it, you’ve got this credit card. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘It’s unlimited. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘All we have to do is go along to a bank and get them to issue me with a temporary card, so I can draw on your credit for a limited period, say a month. How does that suit you? That be okay?’

Jeb Stuart Ho made a slight bow.

‘If that’s what you want, I will do it.’

‘Great.’

‘There’s one thing, though.’

The Minstrel Boy looked suspicious.

‘What?’

‘Where do we find a bank?’

The Minstrel Boy laughed.

‘That’s no problem.’

He waved his hand down the street.

‘Walk in any direction. We’ll soon find one. They need a lot of banks in Litz.’

‘Are they open at night?’

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

‘Sure they’re open. They have to be. It’s always night here.’

They started walking. It only took them two blocks before they found one. The First Exploitive Bank of Litz squatted smugly between a mass sex operation and a torture parlour. Its solid granite facade contrasted sharply with the glass and neon of its immediate neighbours. It seemed like a haven of conservative responsibility. As they mounted the steps that led up to the huge brass doors. Jeb Stuart Ho looked questioningly at the Minstrel Boy.

‘Why do they need such places?’

‘Banks?’

‘Yes.’

‘It gives them something to do. Them that like it.’

‘Surely, in many places, Stuff credit is given free to all people?’

They like to do things the hard way here.’

‘It gives them power over their fellows.’

‘That’s the way they like it.’

‘It seems hardly fair.’

‘People who want things fair don’t come here.’

Jeb Stuart Ho thought about it. They reached the top of the steps. The door was flanked by a squad of bank security guards armed with machine pistols and fragmentation bombs. As they walked inside, one of the guards stepped back on to a concealed foot switch, and a cluster of cameras, set high in the lofty ceiling, tracked their progress across the spacious marble interior. They joined the line in front of one of the cashiers’ windows. The presence of the heavily armed Ho sent a ripple of alarm through the other customers. From various points around the bank, more armed guards watched him intently.

The line moved slowly towards the cashier’s window. Finally it was Jeb Stuart Ho’s turn. A thin-lipped, middle-aged man in a black jacket and stiff wing collar stared nervously at him from behind the armoured glass.

‘Can I help you?’

Jeb Stuart Ho smiled politely.

‘I’d like to arrange a movement of credit.’

He indicated the Minstrel Boy.

‘I’d Like my friend here to have a temporary credit card on my account.’

The clerk peered over the top of his rimless glasses.

‘That kind of transaction is somewhat irregular.’

‘Surely it is possible?’

‘You’ll have to wait.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed. The clerk climbed from his stool, but then turned back to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I’ll need your card.’

Jeb Stuart Ho handed over the black-edged credit card. The clerk almost dropped it in fright, then collected himself and hurried away. Jeb Stuart Ho and the Minstrel Boy waited. They waited for five minutes. Jeb Stuart Ho closed his eyes. Five minutes became ten. The Minstrel Boy shifted from one foot to the other. After twelve minutes the clerk returned. He was accompanied by a more portly, more authoritarian version of himself. The portly one seemed determined not to be intimidated by the black-clad executive.

‘Is this your card, sir?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you wish a temporary card issued to this … gentleman?’

He gestured towards the Minstrel Boy with a look of distaste. Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘That is correct.’

‘You have to make a special appointment to transact that kind of business.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it is the normal procedure.’

‘I see.’

There was a pause while the two men looked at each other. Finally the portly clerk gave in.

‘If you go along to the window marked Special Appointments, you can make the arrangements.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed again. He and the Minstrel Boy moved along to the window marked Special Appointments. Behind it was a sour-faced woman with scraped-back grey hair. She wore a high-necked black dress with a cameo brooch at the throat. A pair of spectacles hung from her neck by a chain. She looked coldly at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Yes?’

Ho took a deep breath and repeated his request for the temporary card. The woman picked up his card and looked hard at it.

‘Wait a moment.’

She disappeared. They waited for another seven minutes. A grossly fat little man in a black jacket and striped trousers bustled up to them. He held Jeb Stuart Ho’s card in one hand, and thrust out the other in jovial greeting. Both hands were heavy with gold rings. He was sweating profusely despite the almost icy air conditioning. When he smiled he revealed a fortune in gold teeth.

‘Mr Ho, so sorry to keep you waiting.’

Jeb Stuart Ho ignored his hand.

‘It is Brother Ho.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘My title is Brother. Brother Ho.’

The fat man laughed nervously.

‘I’m sorry, uh, Brother. I’ve never met one of you chaps before. I’m Axelrod. I’m the president of this bank. Perhaps you’d like to step into my office.’

‘Will we achieve what we came here for?’

Axelrod beamed.

‘Of course, old boy. Won’t take but a moment.’

Jeb Stuart Ho and the Minstrel Boy followed him towards an imposing mahogany door with a frosted glass panel that carried the word President in gold letters. Once inside, Axelrod took up his position behind a huge desk. It seemed to make him look bigger. He pushed a silver box towards Ho.

‘Cigar?’

‘No, thank you.’

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘I’ll take one.’

Axelrod waved towards the box with ill grace. The Minstrel Boy stuck a cigar in his mouth.

‘Match?’

Axelrod scowled and picked up a silver table lighter shaped like a vulture, and hastily lit the Minstrel Boy’s cigar. Then he turned back to Jeb Stuart Ho and beamed.

‘This won’t take but a moment.’

He dropped the card into a slot on the elaborate desk console, and punched a series of buttons with a flourish of starched shirt cuff. For two minutes they all watched the unit in silence, then it gave a beep, a light came on and two cards dropped, into a tray at the bottom. Axelrod picked up Jeb Stuart Ho’s card and handed it to him with a smile.

‘Your card, Brother Ho.’

He pushed the Minstrel Boy’s card across the desk to him.

‘And yours.’

‘Thanks.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stood up and bowed. Axelrod showed them out. Slowly they walked across the steps. On the pavement the Minstrel Boy hesitated.

‘So what are you going to do now?’

‘I must complete my task.’

The Minstrel Boy looked round awkwardly.

‘Well, uh, I’m off to have me some fun. I guess I’ll see you around.’

‘How will I find you if I have need of you?’

‘The bank can trace me through the card.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed.

‘I am grateful for your services.’

The Minstrel Boy winked.

‘Think nothing of it, Killer.’

He turned and sauntered off down the block. Jeb Stuart Ho watched him until he turned the corner. Then he started off in the opposite direction.

His intention was to follow the distinctive lights of the Orchid House. He was certain there would be a way he could get inside and complete his mission. He hadn’t walked more than a block and a half, however, when a huge ground car pulled up beside him. It was black with a broad yellow stripe down the side. Its roof was festooned with chrome speakers, aerials and spotlights. Below the stripe were the letters LDC, the Litz Department of Correction. One of the front windows slid down and a helmeted and visored head leaned out.

‘Hey you!’

Jeb Stuart Ho stopped and turned.

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, you. Come over here. We want to talk to you.’

‘I don’t have the time, I’m afraid.’

He started to walk on. There were muffled curses from inside the car. The nearside doors burst open, and four men boiled out. They wore black uniforms and pale blue helmets with dark visors. Their pants had a yellow stripe down the sides and were tucked into high black jackboots. Heavy recoilless pistols, nightsticks, gas and fragmentation bombs hung from their belts. On their helmets and shoulders were the insignia of the LDC.

The first one to reach Jeb Stuart Ho grabbed his arm, and tried to twist it up his back. Ho relaxed for an instant and then straightened his arm with a snap. The LDC man reeled with a scream.

‘He’s dislocated my goddamn shoulder.’

A second cop swung at Ho with a nightstick. His armoured forearm flashed up to meet it. The two met with a crack, and the stick shattered. The cop looked at the broken end in disbelief. He backed away a couple of paces. His two partners also stopped. The first one to attack Ho leaned against the wall groaning and clutching his shoulder. There was a moment of stillness. It seemed as though they were all waiting to see who would make the next move. Then the cop dropped the useless handle of the nightstick and reached for his gun. The gun cleared the holster, but before the cop could fire, Jeb Stuart Ho’s sword was in his hand. It flashed at inhuman speed and completely severed the cop’s right hand at the wrist. The gun, with the dead hand still clutching at it, fell to the pavement. The cop sank silently, staring at the bleeding stump with the blankness of total shock.

Things suddenly happened very fast. One cop leaped to help his companion. The other threw his nightstick at Ho’s head. Ho caught it with his left hand and whirled, looking for the next attack. A sleep gas grenade burst at his feet. Ho dropped the nightstick, and whipped his cloak up to his face. He emptied his lungs in a single high-pitched gasp and held his breath. His trained response was fast, but it didn’t beat the gas. It was already being absorbed through the pores of his skin. The street faded to black and white. It became two dimensional and began to recede. The focus failed, and it went out altogether.

When it came on again Jeb Stuart Ho was staring at a bright white light set in a smooth white ceiling. He carefully turned his head and the waist of a rumpled brown suit moved into the centre of his field of vision.

‘So you woke up?’

Jeb Stuart Ho focused his eyes.

‘What place is this?’

‘Department of Correction.’

The voice sounded as though it was used to giving orders and having them obeyed. It was a voice that enjoyed its power.

‘May I sit up?’

‘If you do, I’ll blow you apart.’

‘May I turn my head?’

‘Sure. I don’t see how you can do any harm by that. Help yourself. Just don’t make any sudden moves. If you do, I’ll kill you. That’s a promise.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked round. The room was completely bare except for the concrete slab on which he was lying, and a simple collapsible chair in which the man was sitting. The man wore a creased brown suit, a white shirt and a wide necktie with a painting of a bound and naked woman on it. The tie was loosened and the top of his shirt was undone. He was sweating slightly. The man was of medium height, thickset and overweight. His face had the coarse bulldog look of a determined and methodical bully. The chewed end of a cigar was clenched between his teeth. Across his knees he cradled a wide-barrelled riot gun. When he caught Jeb Stuart Ho looking at him, he smiled grimly and patted the gun.

‘I could cut you in half with this before you could reach me, however fast you are.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked down at himself. He still had his one-piece black suit, but everything else had been taken away. He swung his gaze back to the man in the chair.

‘Do you know who I am?’

The man took the cigar out of his mouth.

‘A big league hit man.’

‘An executive of the brotherhood.’

The man’s lip curled.

‘Like I said, a big league hit man.’

‘The brotherhood would not view my detention by your people favourably. What is your name?’

‘I’m Bannion. Chief-Agent Bannion.’

‘My mission is of the utmost priority, Chief-Agent Bannion.’

‘You attacked four of my patrolmen.’

‘Quite the opposite. I was defending myself from their unprovoked attack.’

‘You casually lopped off one of their hands.’

‘I’m sorry. The man was about to shoot me and I overreacted. I trust he has been taken care of?’

Bannion scowled.

‘He’s dead.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked surprised.

‘Dead?’

‘Dead.’

‘But how? If he received prompt medical attention he should have recovered. It would even have been possible to replace the severed limb.’

Bannion stared at Ho grimly.

‘The shock was too much for him. He shot himself. Left handed.’

Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing. There was a long silence. Bannion finally broke it.

‘I think we’ve completed the decent silence.’

‘How can you estimate a man’s worth in silence?’

‘I have a feeling you’re just burning to tell me what bad news it will be if the brotherhood find out we ain’t been treating you right.’

‘The basic computations that support the city’s gambling economy and even its basic stasis and life support all come from the brotherhood.’

‘And it might just get cut off if they found we’d messed you up?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘That’s why my men aren’t beating you to death right now.’

‘You stopped them?’

‘I stopped them.’

‘And what will happen to me now?’

‘That depends.’

‘On what?’

‘You’re here to kill?’

‘I’m here on an executive task.’

‘You’re here to kill?’

‘Yes.’

Bannion sighed.

‘That’s more like it. Okay, who?’

‘A woman who lives in this town.’

‘Why?’

‘If her course of action is not terminated, the eventual outcome could be a major disaster.’

‘Is this woman a native of Litz?’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘A visitor.’

Bannion took out another cigar and lit it.

‘That’s a relief. Having a human killing machine running round the city would be bad enough, but letting you kill born and bred citizens is out of the question. What’s this woman’s name?’

‘A.A. Catto.’

Bannion stood up, walked over to the door and banged on it with his fist. After a moment, the door opened and a blue-helmeted head appeared.

‘Yes, Chief?’

‘Get me all we have on a female called A.A. Catto.’

The door closed again. Bannion returned to his chair. Jeb Stuart Ho raised his head slightly.

‘Could I sit up now?’

Bannion’s eyes narrowed.

‘You sure you won’t try and jump me?’

‘I have no reason to attack you.’

‘Okay, sit up, but keep your hands on the slab.’

Jeb Stuart Ho eased himself into a sitting position. He crossed his legs, and Bannion appeared to relax. The door opened, and a uniformed patrolman came in carrying a red plastic folder. He handed it to Bannion, stared hard at Jeb Stuart Ho and then left. Bannion leafed through the file and then looked up at Ho.

‘There seems to be no reason why you shouldn’t kill her. We don’t encourage the slaying of rich out-of-towners, but I suppose we have to go along with what the brotherhood wants. You’ll have to make it legitimate, though.’

‘Legitimate?’

‘That’s right.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘You file a claim.’

‘A claim?’

Bannion looked at Jeb Stuart Ho as though he was talking to an idiot.

‘An Assassin’s Claim to Victim, form DY 7134/B. You fill it out. I approve it. We notify the security services. They withdraw any protection they might be renting to the victim and you go in and kill her. Normally the processing of a claim takes about six months.’

‘Six months?’

‘But in your case we’ll do it immediately. Although you’ll have to grease a few palms.’

‘You mean bribes?’

Bannion grinned.

‘A nasty word. Call it operating expenses, and a donation to the Widows’ and Orphans’ Fund.’

Jeb Stuart Ho shrugged.

‘You have my credit card.’

Bannion stood up. He winked.

‘That’s right. We do.’

***

Lame Nancy paid off the cab, and walked up to the glass doors of the Orchid House. They slid back as she came within a couple of metres of them, and two armed guardians in purple suits and dark red helmets barred her way.

‘You are a non-resident.’

It was more a statement than a question. They were obviously clones. Nancy could tell from the way they moved that they were clones. Nancy didn’t really like dealing with clones. They were too straightforward. They didn’t respond to the tricks and subtleties that worked on normal humans. Nancy took a deep breath and stared back at the faces behind the dark visors.

‘I want to see Miss A.A. Catto.’

‘Do you have a visitor’s pass?’

Nancy shook her head.

‘No.’

‘Then it is not possible. You’ll have to leave.’

‘Can’t you call her some way? It’s very important.’

‘Are you known to the lady?’

‘No, but I have some particularly vital information for her.’

The clones appeared to consider the matter for a few moments. Then one of them punched out a combination of digits on his wrist communicator. The instrument’s tiny screen flickered into life. By craning her neck and peering over the shoulder of one of the guardians, Nancy could just make out the dishevelled image of a young teenage girl. A small tinny voice came from the speaker.

‘What?’

‘It’s the main entrance, Miss Catto. There’s a person who claims to have information for you.’

‘Does this person claim to know me?’

‘No, Miss Catto.’

‘I don’t want to see anyone. No, wait. What’s the person’s name?’

The guardian glanced at Nancy.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Just Nancy. That’ll do.’

The guardian looked back into the communicator.

‘She says her name’s Nancy.’

‘It’s a woman?’

‘Yes, Miss Catto.’

‘Scan her for me.’

The guardian took a step back and pointed the communicator at Nancy. A.A. Catto’s voice came from the speaker.

‘I’ll take a chance on her. Check her for weapons and send her on up.’

The screen died as A.A. Catto broke the connection. The guardian took a small cylindrical detector from his belt.

‘The lady says you can go up.’

‘I heard.’

‘I’ve got to check you for weapons.’

‘I heard that too.’

The guardian pointed the detector at her. A small light came on.

‘I’m getting a positive reading.’

Nancy produced a small, pearl-handled needle gun from a hidden pocket. She handed it to the guardian.

‘It’ll be this.’

‘What did you bring it for?’

‘A girl has to protect herself.’

‘You’ll have to leave this with us for as long as you remain in the building.’

‘You better hope I’m not attacked.’

‘We will be able to defend you.’

‘Have you clones developed a sense of humour?’

‘I fail to understand.’

The guardian pointed the detector at her again. This time the light didn’t come on.

‘You’re clear, you can go through.’

Lame Nancy bowed extravagantly. One of the guardians led her to the lift and explained how to reach A.A. Catto’s apartment. The next thing she knew the doors had closed and she was in a red, softly lit compartment that was rising quickly upwards. The interior was padded with soft cushions and music played. Suddenly Nancy wondered if she had taken on too much. She felt a long way out of her league. The feeling stayed with her when she reached A.A. Catto’s door. It was overwhelming. The ride in the lift, the size of the place, the huge drop from the terrace and the cascading tiers of flowers, were so far removed from what she was used to. In the Leader Hotel she could throw her weight about and expect to get her own way. She looked at her reflection in the stainless steel apartment door. She pulled herself together. She could deal with these people. People were the same everywhere. She pressed the stud for attention. It was, after all, places like this that the tricks came from, and she could handle them easily.

‘Yes?’

Nancy wasn’t certain where the voice came from. There was obviously a speaker hidden somewhere round the door. She could see nothing specific to speak into.

‘I’ve come to see A.A. Catto.’

She felt a little foolish talking to the blank door.

‘Wait a minute.’

A small cylinder protruded over the door with what appeared to be a lens set in the end. Nancy realized that she was being scanned from inside. She stood perfectly still. The door slid silently back. Behind it was a small compact hallway with matt silver grey walls. A girl leaned against one of them, beside a wall panel with a small screen and a number of control studs. Nancy was surprised at just how young she was. The image in the guardian’s communicator had looked like a teenager, but this girl was scarcely more than twelve or thirteen. Her hair was dishevelled. Her makeup was smudged. There were dark circles under her eyes, and when she pushed herself away from the wall she seemed a little unsteady.

‘You must be Nancy.’

Her voice was slurred. She sounded as though she was out of her mind behind something.

‘I’m Nancy.’

‘You’re an interesting-looking creature.’

‘I’m not a creature, dear. I’m solid human.’

‘You’re deformed.’

Nancy’s face went very tight.

‘Who isn’t?’

The girl giggled and smoothed down her silver dress.

‘You have to forgive me. I’m loaded. What is it you want?’

‘I want to see A.A. Catto.’

‘That’s me. I’m A.A. Catto. What do you want?’

‘I’ve something to tell you. I think you might find it interesting.’

‘I find you interesting already. That’s a very interesting device you have round your leg.’

Nancy was getting tired of the girl’s rambling.

‘Are we going to stand here in the hallway for ever?’

A.A. Catto looked round and blinked.

‘I was forgetting. I’ve been awake for a long time. You’d better come in.’

A.A. Catto led her into a large white room. The whiteness was overpowering. Walls, furniture and carpet were all the one colour. There was an immense effect of space, although the room wasn’t quite as huge as it appeared. On one wall was a screen, about four metres across and inset three dimensional. It was an ample substitute for a window. The sound was turned off, and two men fought in eerie silence. They were naked except for plate armour that protected their heads, necks, shoulders and arms. They fought in the Heidelberg manner, neither giving ground, both swinging at each other with long heavy sabres. Blood ran down both their bodies. Nancy stood looking at it until A.A. Catto spoke.

‘These shows can be very tedious.’

She turned and waved her arm vaguely around the room.

‘You’ll have to excuse the mess.’

Nancy looked round. Mess was exactly the right word. Chairs and lamps were overturned. Cigar ends had been ground into the carpet. Bottles littered the floor. Empty duramene ampoules had been crushed underfoot. A long low table made from a single block of marble was overflowing with more bottles and dirty glasses. A jar had been knocked over, and loose pills were strewn about. Some of them were decomposing in a pool of spilled booze.

Nancy heard a whimpering noise. It came from the corner of the room. There was a man huddled on the floor. His head was pressed to the wall. He was naked, and his hands were secured by two wide leather bracelets joined by a short length of chain. Near him, some straps and lengths of chain were tossed across a steel and leather butterfly chair. A.A. Catto giggled.

‘Take no notice of him. He only does it to attract attention. I’ve just been exercising him. Why don’t you sit down?’

Nancy settled herself in a nest of huge velvet cushions. Her leg in the callipers stuck out in front of her. A.A. Catto didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off it. Nancy felt something sticking in her. She tugged at it and produced a short, plaited leather whip. She held it up.

‘You, uh, exercise him a lot?’

A.A. Catto nodded, and settled herself beside Nancy.

‘He pisses me off a great deal.’

Nancy grinned.

‘Men can do that.’

‘Right.’

A.A. Catto reached out and touched the black steel calliper.

‘This is an incredible thing.’

Nancy sat very still and said nothing. A.A. Catto smiled at her, and ran her index finger round the damascening on the steel.

‘I don’t like men. They can be very tiresome. Do you like men, uh, Nancy?’

‘Not a lot.’

‘I have a direct link with this one’s nervous system. I can make him feel whatever I want.’

Nancy looked impressed.

‘That must have been expensive.’

A.A. Catto was puzzled.

‘Expensive? I’ve never thought about it.’

Her eyes went vacant. Nancy waited. After a few minutes they flashed back to life again.

‘I’ve got to take something to keep me going.’

She scrambled to her feet, and rummaged about on the marble table.

‘I can’t find any duramene. You don’t have any, do you?’

Nancy shook her head.

‘I don’t. We don’t get a lot of it down our way.’

‘Too bad.’

A.A. Catto picked up a handful of pills and inspected them.

‘I suppose these will hold me together for a while.’

She put half a dozen of them in her mouth and took a swallow from the nearest glass. Then she returned to the cushions.

‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

‘I heard your name today.’

‘That must have been nice.’

‘It was at the Leader Hotel.’

‘What’s the Leader Hotel?’

‘It’s a broken down fire trap on the other side of town. I keep a string of girls there.’

‘What do they do for you?’

‘They work for me.’

‘That seems very practical. Do you think I’m pretty?’

‘Yes, very pretty.’

‘Go on.’

Nancy was beginning to become used to the way A.A. Catto’s mind jumped around. She went back to her story.

‘Two men were looking for you.’

A.A. Catto laughed.

‘Men are always looking for me.’

‘One of them looked like an assassin. A professional.’

‘You believe he might want to kill me?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘Why would anyone want to kill me?’

Nancy shrugged.

‘I don’t know, but it sure seemed like this guy and his partner had a contract for you.’

She jerked her thumb towards the corner.

‘Maybe he wants you dead?’

A.A. Catto looked at her in disbelief.

‘He wouldn’t dare, besides, he hasn’t had the chance. He’s been with me all the time. He doesn’t leave my sight.’

‘I really don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. I just had this feeling.’

A.A. Catto ran her fingers down the calliper again.

‘And you came to warn me. That was very sweet o,f you.’

‘It was nothing.’

‘I still can’t understand why anyone should want to kill me. I’m beautiful. You do think I’m beautiful, don’t you?’

‘Sure, I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re very beautiful.’

‘If I was one of your girls, would you make me work for you?’

Nancy flashed with horror at the problems this dopefiend could cause if she was a working hooker. She smiled quickly.

‘Honey, if you were working for me, I’d keep you all to myself.’

‘Kiss me, Nancy.’

Nancy leaned over and kissed A.A. Catto in a way that wouldn’t commit her to anything. A.A. Catto’s arms immediately snaked around her, and her tongue darted into Nancy’s mouth. She seemed almost desperate. She clung to Nancy, kissing her face and licking her ear. Nancy quickly responded, partly enjoying it, partly wanting to do the thing right. After a few minutes A.A. Catto moved away. She quickly squirmed out of her silver dress, and stood up for Nancy to inspect her. All she had on were her silver boots. She spread her feet wide apart and put her hands on her hips.

‘Do you like my body?’

Nancy stretched out a hand and stroked the inside of A.A. Catto’s thigh.

‘I think your body’s wonderful.’

A.A. Catto crouched down beside Nancy, and touched one of her small hard breasts. She plucked at the white material of Nancy’s one piece outfit.

‘How do you take this off?’

‘You can’t take it off completely.’

Nancy unclipped her silver belt and let it fall back on the cushions. Then she pointed to a small mother-of-pearl stud at her neck and kissed A.A. Catto on the cheek.

‘If you press that, the whole thing splits down the front.’

A.A. Catto extended a long thin finger and touched the stud. The suit split open down the entire length of Nancy’s body. A.A. Catto began caressing her skin, and Nancy sighed deeply. She reached out, and began to fondle A.A. Catto’s breasts. A.A. Catto traced a path with her fingers down Nancy’s body from her collar bone to the white fuzz of her pubic hair. Then she followed it with her tongue. As she found Nancy’s clitoris, Nancy gave a groan of real pleasure and began to writhe her hips. A.A. Catto looked up from between Nancy’s legs.

‘Was that nice?’

Nancy sighed.

‘Oh, really.’

A.A. Catto squirmed round until the gap between her own legs was presented to Nancy.

‘Now do the same to me.’

For a long while the two women aroused and teased each other with their mouths and tongues. Each time the feeling became too strong one would clutch spasmodically at the other’s legs. At last, A.A. Catto surfaced.

‘This is very nice, but I’d like to get further.’

Nancy opened her eyes. There were beads of perspiration on her upper lip.

‘What do you suggest?’

A.A. Catto grinned.

‘I have some toys that might help us.’

Nancy ran her tongue up A.A. Catto’s thigh.

‘Why don’t you find them?’

A.A. Catto jumped up with a laugh. She looked helplessly round the room.

‘I know they’re here somewhere. I saw them when I was torturing Reave.’

Nancy propped herself up on one elbow.

‘Aren’t you worried that someone might be trying to kill you?’

A.A. Catto paused from rummaging about in the litter that covered the room.

‘I’ll probably worry terribly when I start to come down, but right now I can’t quite believe it. Anyway, it’d be very hard for anyone to get me here. We’re surrounded by guards.’

Nancy sank back into the cushions as A.A. Catto went on searching. Things were working out very differently from the way she had expected. When she’d first thought of coming to the Orchid House it had been for a quick bribe. It seemed to have gone a lot further than that. Her deliberations were interrupted by a buzzing from the wall screen. On the screen, one of the swordsmen was, at last, delivering the finishing blows to the other. A.A. Catto moved over to it, and flicked the control to the communication channel. The huge head and shoulders of a guardian filled the screen. It completely dwarfed A.A. Catto. She took an involuntary step back.

‘What do you want?’

‘Miss Catto?’

‘Yes.’

‘I regret to inform you that our organization can no longer offer you protection of any form. This withdrawal of service applies to all guard and security organizations in the city.’

A.A. Catto looked at the screen in bewilderment.

‘You mean I’m not protected?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘And nobody will protect me?’

‘That’s right, Miss Catto.’

‘For god’s sake, why?’

‘You are the subject of an Assassin’s Claim to Victim.’

‘What the hell’s that?’

‘In simple terms, a professional assassin has applied for permission to kill you, and permission has been granted.’

‘But why?’

‘I have no information on that.’

‘Who is this assassin?’

‘The claim was filed in the name of Jeb Stuart Ho. He described himself as an executive of the brotherhood.’

A.A. Catto looked round desperately.

‘Isn’t there anything you can do to help me?’

‘Nothing, Miss Catto. All we are allowed to do is give you formal notification of the claim. I must terminate this conversation.’

A.A. Catto shook her head helplessly.

‘I don’t understand. What have I ever done to these people?’

‘I have to terminate this conversation right now.’

The screen went blank. A.A. Catto felt terribly cold. She looked imploringly at Nancy.

‘Did you hear that?’

‘It’s worse than I thought.’

‘What can I do?’

‘We’d better get out of here.’

‘Where can I go?’

‘You could come to the Leader. You might be safe there until we organized something. You got plenty of credit?’

‘Unlimited. If they haven’t taken that away.’

Nancy stood up and began fastening her suit.

‘They can’t take that away.’

‘Thank god.’

Nancy began to organize. She was mentally kicking herself for becoming so involved. The only consolation was that there might be some rich pickings, in it. At least the assassin didn’t have carte blanche to kill her.

‘You’d better throw anything you need into a bag. Oh, and wake him up.’

She pointed at Reave.

‘We’ve got to move fast. He may be on his way here right now.’

A.A. Catto hurried across to where Reave lay huddled, and kicked him. He whimpered and tried to push himself further into the corner.

‘Please, I couldn’t take any more.’

A.A. Catto snapped at him impatiently.

‘Get up. This is important.’

Her voice softened.

‘Please get up. I forgive you for now. There’s someone coming to kill me. We’ve got to get out of here. Please, Reave. Get up and help me.’

Reave got painfully to his feet.

***

Billy Oblivion lay on his bed feeling better than he’d felt in weeks. Darlene had finally started to make a real effort, there was a bit of credit stacked up, and all was right with the world. The only thing that troubled him slightly was the way Darlene had gone so militantly to work. She seemed to be turning tricks every hour of the day she could. Billy couldn’t figure out what had got into her, but while it lasted, he didn’t try very hard.

Billy wasn’t trying very hard at anything. After a handful of dormax and two-thirds of a bottle of tequila he didn’t have a worry in the world. A couple of times he’d thought about getting up, going down to the desk and getting the desk clerk to reconnect the room screen. Even that seemed to be too much trouble when he looked at it from inside the pleasant haze of booze and sleeping pills. As long as they held, out, Billy could think of nothing more pleasant than to sprawl on the bed and examine the interesting cracks and patterns on the ceiling.

The building trembled slightly as the lift was set in motion. Billy grinned to himself. One day someone would step into the Leader Hotel’s lift, push a button, and the whole building would fall down. Billy giggled, and took another shot of tequila. Somebody was flat picking an amplified guitar somewhere down the hall. Billy tapped his toe in time to it. It really seemed a pleasant way to pass the time.

The lift came to a halt at Billy’s floor. Billy listened, he wondered if it might be Darlene. He held up the tequila bottle. There was only about an inch left. If it was her, she could go down to the desk for another one. A thought suddenly got through to him. She might have a trick with her. If she did, that would mean he’d have to get out of the room. He’d end up in the foyer feeding drinks to the goddamn desk clerk. That was the only trouble with Darlene’s new attitude to work, it was a drag having to scoot in and out of the room all the time. Maybe if she kept on working the way she was, they could get two rooms, one for living in, and one for business.

A key rattled in the door. It was Darlene. Billy propped himself up on one elbow. The door opened. Darlene stood in the doorway. She was wearing her red working outfit. Billy grinned at her.

‘You look good enough to eat.’

Darlene flounced across the room.

‘I’ve had enough people eating at me. I feel like I was a meal.’

She pulled off her red boots and threw them across the room.

‘Can’t you do anything but lay about all day?’

Billy knew he really ought to get mad and hit her. Darlene was getting completely out of line. The trouble was that he just couldn’t get it together. He let his head fall back on to the pillow.

‘I really don’t need this.’

Darlene was pulling off her stockings.

‘You think I need it? You’re just turning into a bum. There was a time when I used to feel good walking around for you. I didn’t mind turning tricks, I thought we were going to get someplace.’

Billy groaned.

‘How can we get anyplace? We’re non-people. We don’t have credit.’

‘We ain’t going to get anyplace if you keep getting too loaded to walk.’

Darlene pulled her red dress over her head, and carefully folded it over a chair. Billy focused on her. She looked really good. She was naked apart from the garter belt that still hung round her hips. Her black skin colour contrasted sharply with the thin strip of red. He patted the bed beside him.

‘Honey, don’t give me a hard time. Come on over here and relax.’

Darlene pulled open the door to the tiny shower. She turned on the water and took off the garter belt. Before she stepped inside she looked down at Billy.

‘If you think I feel like fucking you after turning five tricks in as many hours, you better think again.’

The door of the shower banged behind her. Billy sighed, picked up the tequila bottle and swallowed about half of what was left. Things with Darlene were getting out of hand. He repeated the phrase to himself a few times. He liked the ring of it. His brain was too fuzzy for any kind of concentrated thought. When he was straight he’d work it out. One thing was sure. It couldn’t go on like this. It was a determined kind of phrase. Billy liked it. He was still repeating it to himself when Darlene came out of the shower.

The flash of Darlene naked and dripping wet was the kind of thing that stopped Billy leaving her. He shook his head. That was the trouble with dormax. They made you horny, but left you incapable of making the effort to do anything about it. Darlene was busily towelling herself. Billy raised his head.

‘Are you going out again?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know yet.’

‘You don’t want to overdo it. Why don’t you stay up here with me for a while?’

Darlene flung the towel on the floor.

‘For Christ’s sake don’t start that again.’

‘Start what again?’

‘I told you before. I don’t want to know right now. For one thing, I’m sore.’

Billy subsided again. Darlene pulled on a dirty housecoat.

‘If you want something to do, you could go down to Nancy’s. You might find yourself some work down there.’

‘You been hanging round with Nancy? You know I don’t like you getting in with her.’

‘Afraid I might go to work for her?’

‘No, it’s just …’

‘Listen, Billy. I don’t care what you like. Nancy’s useful. She knows what’s happening. She passes on tips to me.’

Billy became sullen.

‘I bet she does.’

‘If you got yourself down there, you might pick up a fair bit of credit.’

‘Why? What’s happening?’

‘I don’t know for sure. She’s getting a team of guys together for something. She asked if you could handle a gun.’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘I said I didn’t know.’

‘You know I can handle a gun.’

‘You can’t handle walking half the time.’

Billy struggled to sit up.

‘Listen, you bitch. I killed a man in a shoot-out when I was on the road with Reave. Shit, we got involved in a whole fucking war.’

Darlene turned on the hot plate under the coffee pot.

‘So you say.’

‘Damn it, it’s the truth.’

‘Even if it is, there’s no saying you could do it now. You’ve gone downhill ever since I met you.’

Billy scowled.

‘I can do it.’

‘Go do it then.’

‘I will.’

Billy swung his legs over the side of the bed. His stomach lurched, and he had to sit still for a while. Darlene laughed.

‘See the fearless gunman.’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

Billy had another try at standing up. He stood in the middle of the room, swaying slightly.

‘I need some duramene.’

Darlene snorted contemptuously.

‘Since when could we ever afford duramene? You live in a dream world, Billy boy.’

Billy looked round helplessly.

‘I need something.’

‘We don’t have anything.’

‘Some funaids might help.’

Darlene shook her head.

‘They’ll just make you stupid.’

‘I’ve got to get myself straight.’

‘A shower and a lot of coffee would take care of you as well as anything else.’

Billy started to fumble with the fastenings on his shirt.

‘Why do you always want me to do things the hard way?’

‘I like to see you suffer.’

For the next hour Darlene filled Billy with black coffee, pushed him into alternately hot and cold showers and massaged the back of his neck. He was sick a couple of times, but by the end of the period he was zipped into his best suit and walking steadily, if a little stiffly, towards the lift.

He rode down to Nancy’s floor and walked down the corridor. He paused for a moment in front of her door, then stretched out his hand and knocked.

‘Who is it?’

‘Billy.’

‘Hold on.’

There was the rattle of security bolts being shot back, and the door opened just wide enough for Nancy to peer out. It was still secured by a chain lock. She confirmed it was really Billy, and then shut it again. He heard the sound of the chain being removed. Before letting Billy in Nancy looked carefully up and down the corridor. Billy wondered what could be going on that merited so much caution.

The room was crowded with at least half the hoods who hung round the hotel. Billy nodded to a few of them. Most of them seemed to be armed, and everyone had the air of waiting for something. On the far side of the room, setting crosslegged on the bed, was a young girl in a metallic blue one-piece jump suit. Beside her was a man. Between them they produced a flash of violent recognition in Billy.

‘Reave!’

‘Billy!’

‘How are you, my man?’

His one-time partner looked thinner and more haggard than when they had parted company in the city of Con-Lee, when Reave had stayed with A.A. Catto, and Billy had continued with his wanderings. Reave clutched at Billy’s arm.

‘It’s good to see you.’

‘You too, what’s been happening?’

Reave frowned.

‘We’re in a bit of trouble.’

‘You and A.A. Catto?’

‘Yeah, there’s …’

Before Reave could tell his story, Nancy interrupted him.

‘Why don’t you leave the reunion till later? It seems like everyone’s here, so we might as well all hear the tale at once.’

There were murmurs of assent from the men grouped around the room. It seemed as if nobody really knew why Nancy had got them up there. She stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned round.

‘You’ll be pleased to know that each of you has been left a day’s credit at the front desk.’

There was general approval for this statement. Only one of the men didn’t join in the loud reception. His name was Monk. He was a thickset individual. He wore a collarless striped shirt, a black waistcoat, and his face was half hidden by a light grey fedora. Under one armpit a heavy, vicious-looking needle gun hung in a patent Speed-Draw shoulder holster. He leaned forward in his seat and looked suspiciously at Nancy.

‘What are we supposed to do for it?’

Nancy grinned.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

Monk shook his head.

‘I don’t get it.’

‘It’s a token of goodwill. Look at it as a payment for coming here.’

‘Seems to me that there’s a lot of credit behind whatever this thing is you’re cooking up.’

Nancy nodded.

‘You can believe that.’

There was a chorus of questions. Nancy raised her hands and waited until they subsided.

‘I’ll get straight down to the reason I’ve got you all up here. I need to put a team together. This lady here …’

She pointed to the girl on the bed.

‘Her name’s A.A. Catto, and this team’s being hired to protect her. There’s a couple of guys in the city who are going to try a hit on her. We’re going to stop them.’

Monk interrupted.

‘Why can’t she just hire a team of guardians? It sounds as though she can afford it.’

‘They won’t deal with her.’

Monk raised a slow eyebrow.

‘There’s only one reason I can think of why the guardians won’t protect her.’

Nancy nodded.

‘I ain’t going to hide anything. There’s a claim out on her.’

There was an immediate ripple of conversation. Monk seemed to be slipping into the role of spokesman for all the men present. He minutely examined his fingernails. There was a pause while everyone waited to see what he would say. He sucked in his breath and looked up.

‘That means that the guys who are after her are professionals.’

Nancy grinned.

‘They looked that way.’

‘You’ve seen them?’

‘They came here yesterday asking a lot of questions.’

Billy looked up sharply, but said nothing. Monk went on voicing the men’s queries.

‘What did they look like?’

‘One was tall and thin, dressed in black and carrying a bundle of hardware. The other was shorter. Seemed to be only carrying a set of knives.’

She picked up a bundle of papers and began to pass them round.

‘I put the descriptions down on these fax-sheets’

There were a few moments of silence while everyone in the room studied the papers. Then Monk tapped his with his forefinger.

‘It says here that the tall one’s name is Jeb Stuart Ho.’

Nancy nodded.

‘That’s right.’

‘Sounds to me like a brotherhood name.’

‘Could be.’

‘So you seriously expect us to try stopping a brotherhood killer?’

‘I don’t suggest we wait for them to come. I figure we should try and get them first.’

Monk shook his head.

‘You got to be crazy.’

Nancy planted her hands on her hips and looked down at him.

‘There’s a credit card in it for the one who gets Ho, a card of his own.’

Everyone began to talk at once. A credit card meant reinstatement in full. It was the only kind of prize that might tempt anyone to tackle a professional assassin. Monk grinned.

‘What do the others get?’

‘A month’s credit. That’s for each man who joins us. There’s nothing else to tell. Who’s going to join us?’

The men all looked at each other. A couple shook their heads and sheepishly left. The remainder stayed put. Monk stood up.

‘Looks like you got your team. All we need is weapons.’

Nancy nodded towards a pile of gift-wrapped packages in the corner.

‘We stopped at the gun store on the way up here. There’s a half dozen riot guns, ammunition, some hand guns and grenades. We’ve got enough weapons.’

Monk grinned.

‘You think of everything.’

Then Nancy got down to the final details. The team was split into two groups. One would stay at the Leader and guard A.A. Catto, the other would move out into the city and start circulating the description of Ho to the beggars, winos and hustlers. Once he’d been located they’d move in for the kill. Billy found himself drafted into the hotel group. He wasn’t really concentrating on the planning. While it was going on he moved close to Reave, and spoke to him in a low voice.

‘I know who the other guy is. Ho’s partner.’

Reave looked at him in surprise.

‘Who?’

‘The Minstrel Boy.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I’m not, I saw him when they came here looking for A.A. Catto.’

‘Did he see you?’

Billy shook his head.

‘I ducked into the lift. I didn’t want him to see me. I guess I was ashamed or something.’

Reave said nothing. Billy looked at him urgently.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘We can’t let him kill A.A. Catto.’

‘But we can’t let him be gunned down. He got us out of real trouble a couple of limes.’

Reave ran his fingers through his hair.

‘I don’t know what we can do except wait and see. If we tell anyone now, it could put us in a real awkward position.’

Billy glanced at A.A. Catto.

‘But you’re with her. She won’t let anything happen to you.’

Reave avoided his eyes.

‘I wouldn’t altogether count on that.’

Billy nodded unhappily.

‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.’

***

The Minstrel Boy was drunk. He wasn’t quite at the point of falling over, but he was certainly having trouble getting up the steps of the Club 93. He leaned heavily on the girl beside him. Although he couldn’t quite remember her name, he was happier than he’d been since Jeb Stuart Ho had rudely dragged him from his comfortable tank at Wainscote. It was his first day of living it up on Ho’s credit, and he was making the most of it. He grinned at the girl.

‘Think we should make it back to my hotel, honey?’ The first thing the Minstrel Boy had done after he’d left Ho was to check into the Albert Speer. The Albert Speer was generally considered to be the best hotel in Litz. The girl looked up at him with a quick professional smile.

‘I don’t think you’re capable of much else.’

The Minstrel Boy’s grin widened.

‘You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.’

‘I’m surprised you’re still capable of standing up.’

Still holding him steady, she signalled to the 93’s doorman to get them a cab. While they were waiting for it, he took the opportunity to have a better look at her. The pick-up had been so fast he hadn’t really had a chance to study her. She’d made a beeline for him almost immediately he staggered into the club and started tossing his credit about. She’d seemed okay in the dim light of the club, but up on the street, the blemishes were inclined to show.

In fact, she stood up to the examination very well. Her growth had been halted around fourteen or fifteen. She had the turned-up nose, large eyes and cute features of the most popular clone hostess model, although from the way she moved and talked, he knew she was a normal human. Her skin was done in a pleasant rainbow blend of light pastel shades. Her hair was a mass of waist-length, dark blue ringlets that matched her short tight tube dress and lace-up boots. The Minstrel Boy congratulated himself. He’d really done rather well for one so drunk.

The cab pulled up, and it took both the girl and the doorman to get him safely inside. If the Minstrel Boy hadn’t suffered so much difficulty in negotiating himself into the back of the cab, he might have noticed the beggar who took one look at him, started, jumped up from his pitch on the kerb and hurried off down the street.

The cab ride took longer than originally intended. Halfway to the Albert Speer, the Minstrel Boy decided that he needed a bunch of duramene to burn off some of the alcohol in his brain, and he made the driver make a detour to a drugstore. Once they got there, he suffered an attack of paranoia and refused to get out of the cab. He’d convinced himself that if anyone saw him buying anything as expensive as duramene he was quite likely to be mugged as he walked back to the cab. After some haggling, the driver was persuaded to go.

They started back to the hotel once again, but after they’d only gone a couple of blocks he stopped the cab again. He’d decided he needed a shot to help himself get across the hotel foyer. As he fumbled the ampoule into the injection unit, the girl began to exhibit noticeable signs of impatience, but when he offered her a shot for herself, they quickly receded. By the time they reached the hotel they were laughing and talkative. The Minstrel Boy was hardly any more coherent, but the duramene had made him a good deal more mobile.

They stopped for a moment and stared up to the soaring baroque facade of black and red glass. The girl squeezed the Minstrel Boy’s arm.

‘You really like to live well, don’t you?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned and nodded. He was still hoping he would find out her name without having to ask.

‘You’d better believe it.’

They crossed the foyer, stepped into the lift, and rode up to the Minstrel Boy’s thirty-seventh-floor suite without any difficulty. Immediately they were inside the girl grabbed the Minstrel Boy and kissed him very hard. She thrust the whole length of her body against him, squirming slightly and darting her tongue in and out of his mouth. When she suddenly released him, he took a step back and dropped into a chair.

‘Unh.’

The girl looked down at him.

‘What’s the matter with you? Don’t you like me?’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘How should I know? I only met you a while ago, and ain’t been able to see straight most of the time.’

The girl began to look angry.

‘You don’t take a lot of trouble to be charming.’

‘That’s true.’

‘I expect you can’t even remember my name.’

‘That’s true too.’

‘You’re goddamn impossible.’

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

‘Impossible.’

The girl went red.

‘Well fuck you, Jack.’

She turned on her heel and began heading for the door. The Minstrel Boy turned in his chair, and called after her.

‘Hey!’

She turned in front of the door.

‘What?’

‘I’d really like to fuck you.’

The girl leaned back against the door and gave a half smile.

‘You would, would you?’

‘Sure.’

‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’

‘You could be, whatever turns you on. I could pay you if that’s what you want.’

‘I’m not a hooker.’

‘So you’re up here for kicks.’

‘That’s what I thought when I came here.’

‘So come on over here and get some.’

‘I’m not so sure. You really don’t try very hard.’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘What would you like me to do?’

‘You could ask me my name.’

‘Okay. What’s your name?’

‘Liza.’

‘Liza, hey? Liza from Litz.’

‘Don’t be cute. Do something else.’

‘What?’

‘You choose. Think for yourself.’

The Minstrel Boy suddenly sat up in his chair. He grabbed the phone. The girl came and stood beside his chair looking puzzled.

‘What are you doing?’

‘You’ll see. Hello, room service? Listen, send up a couple of bottles of champagne - how the hell should I know what kind? The best kind, and a couple of pounds of strawberries, right, oh - and a large cut glass bowl. Yeah, right.’

He hung up. Liza looked disappointed.

‘Is that the best you can do? Just start drinking again?’

The Minstrel Boy smiled at her crookedly.

‘Who said anything about drinking?’

‘But I thought …’

‘You want to use your imagination.’

He mimicked the girl’s Litz accent. She looked annoyed.

‘So what else can you do with champagne?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned broadly.

‘First of all you take the glass bowl, you put the strawberries in it. Then you pour in the champagne, and mush it all together, until you’ve got this bowlful of expensive goo.’

‘And what do you do with it?’

The Minstrel Boy’s grin broadened.

‘We take off our clothes, spread the mush all over each other’s bodies, and then we lick it off again.’

Liza smiled.

‘Sounds delicious, if messy.’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘The hotel takes care of the mess.’

She began to drift round the room, looking at the things that the Minstrel Boy had left strewn about. Before getting drunk, he had been on a buying spree. She picked up a hand-carved guitar.

‘Do you play this?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘Uh-uh, I just drop them from great heights and watch them break.’

‘You’re a funny bastard.’

She picked up his belt of knives.

‘What are these?’

A hard edge came into his voice.

‘Put those down.’

Liza dropped them. She said nothing. She wandered around for a little while longer, and then walked slowly and slightly dramatically towards the Minstrel Boy. He sensed it might be the start of a display. He liked displays. He thought of himself as something of a connoisseur.

‘I’m glad you can be obscene.’

The Minstrel Boy frowned.

‘Obscene?’

‘The strawberries and champagne.’

‘Aah.’

Liza put both her hands to the back of her neck.

‘We could start being obscene right now.’

The dress undid itself and dropped to the floor. Liza stood in front of him, naked except for her boots.

‘Do you like what you see?’

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

‘Sure, love it.’

The girl looked a little put out. She squatted crosslegged at his feet.

‘Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?’

‘In a moment.’

‘What do I have to do?’

‘Use your imagination.’

The girl slowly stretched out her legs on either side of the Minstrel Boy’s feet. Slowly she lay back on the ground. The Minstrel Boy raised one of his boots and covered her pubic hair with it. He noticed that she had it dyed the same blue as the hair on her head. He moved his foot with a circular motion, gradually increasing the pressure. Liza gave a soft laugh.

‘You’ve got an odd imagination.’

The Minstrel Boy raised an eyebrow.

‘Who, me?’

He was just stretching out a hand to touch her when there was a knock on the door.

‘Who is it?’

‘Room service.’

He didn’t bother to look round. He just went on teasing the girl with his foot. He ignored the sound of the door opening. Then hands grabbed him roughly round the neck.

‘What the hell …?’

It all seemed to happen at once. The Minstrel Boy was struck hard across the face. The chair toppled over on its side and he fell with it. He saw three men standing over him. Liza screamed and jumped to her feet. One of the men grabbed her by the wrist. Another kicked at the Minstrel Boy. As he rolled over he saw a fourth man dragging an unconscious bellhop into the room. Liza went on screaming. The man holding her, a thickset individual in a grey fedora, slapped her hard across the face.

‘Shut your mouth, honey.’

Liza continued to struggle.

‘Take your goddamn hands off me.’

She found a heavy, vicious needle gun pressed beneath her chin. The man hissed at her from between clenched teeth.

‘Make another sound and I’ll rip your face off.’

Liza stood very still. One of the other men was systematically kicking the Minstrel Boy. He glanced at the one in the fedora.

‘Do we kill him now, Monk?’

Monk shook his head.

‘No, I want to see if he knows where his partner is. That’s the one that scores the prize.’

The chair was set back on its feet. The Minstrel Boy was hauled into it. One of the men, a small sallow one with a livid scar on his cheek, ripped the cord out of the phone, The Minstrel Boy’s arms were dragged back behind the chair, and his thumbs were tied together with a length of wire. Liza was also tied up. Another length of flex secured her wrists, and a third strapped her ankles together. Still naked, she was left in a corner as the four hoods directed all their attention towards the Minstrel Boy.

A sense of something almost like calm settled over him. There was nothing he could do except sit there and take it. All he could hope for was to come up with what they wanted as quickly as possible. That was the only way he could see to avoid getting hurt. He watched the four hoods as they gathered round him. The one called Monk leaned forward and breathed into his face.

‘Okay, where’s your partner?’

‘What partner?’

Smash! The one called Monk punched him hard in the face. They all stood round and waited while his head cleared. Monk grinned down at him.

‘Okay. Let’s try it again. Where’s your partner?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Smash! The Minstrel Boy was aware of a warm sensation, a trickle of blood running down from the side of his mouth. The telephone cord had cut off all feeling from his thumbs.

‘Your partner?’

‘Listen …’

Smash!

As the Minstrel Boy’s senses came back to him, he decided to try another tack.

‘If you told me what partner you were talking about, I might be able to help you.’

‘Jeb Stuart Ho. You know Jeb Stuart Ho?’

‘He’s not my partner.’

Smash!

The Minstrel Boy’s head reeled. There had to be some way out of this.

‘He wasn’t my partner.’

Monk drew back his fist. The Minstrel Boy thought quickly.

‘He wasn’t my partner. I was just working for him.’

Monk sneered.

‘Working as what?’

‘A guide.’

‘A guide?’

The Minstrel Boy took a deep breath.

‘I’m one of the ones who know where they are.’

The four men fell silent. Two of them took a step back. The legend of the guides seemed to stop them in their tracks. Monk was the first to recover.

‘You worked for Jeb Stuart Ho?’

The Minstrel Boy nodded painfully.

‘Sure.’

‘And you guided him here?’

‘Right.’

‘So where is he?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘I just don’t know.’

Monk turned savagely to his three sidekicks.

‘Work him over for a while. He might remember something.’

The Minstrel Boy began to struggle as they moved towards him. His voice almost reached a scream.

‘Hold it, hold it.’

Monk looked down at him. He motioned to the other two.

‘Wait a bit. Maybe he’s going to tell us something.’

The Minstrel Boy sagged in the chair.

‘I don’t know exactly where he is, but I might be able to find out.’

‘How?’

‘How do I know you won’t kill me once I’ve found out what you want to know?’

Monk grinned.

‘You don’t.’

‘So why should I do it for you?’

Monk gestured to the other three hoods. They started towards the Minstrel Boy. Monk held up his hand and they halted. His smile was ugly.

‘You can do it the easy way, or you can do it the hard way. It’s your choice.’

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

‘I’ve always preferred the easy way.’

‘Okay. How do we find him?’

‘Do I have to stay tied up?’

‘How do we find him?’

‘You don’t find him.’

Monk drew back his fist. The Minstrel Boy went quickly on.

‘I find him.’

Monk’s eyes narrowed.

‘What are you trying to pull?’

‘I’ve got a credit card on his account. The bank will know the last location he used his card.’

‘So where’s the card?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘It’s not as easy as that. They’ll want to be able to identify me on a vision link before they give out the information. I’m the only one who can do it. You’ll have to untie me, and clean me up a bit.’

The Minstrel Boy even managed a lopsided bruised grin.

‘You’ll even have to take me down to the lobby.’

He nodded towards the service phone with its ripped out handset.

‘Your gorillas don’t think ahead.’

Monk looked at the other three. They all said nothing for a while. Then he shrugged reluctantly.

‘Maybe he’s telling the truth.’

The one with the scar looked sideways at the Minstrel Boy.

‘And maybe he’s just playing for time. I figure we should work him over a bit more - just so we can be sure.’

‘That’s what you figure, Wormo?’

The hood with the scar nodded. Monk grabbed him by the front of his jacket.

‘Leave the figuring to me, okay? When you start trying to figure, your nasty inclinations usually get in the way.’

He pushed him away.

‘Now untie him, and take him into the bathroom and get him cleaned up.’

Wormo reluctantly did as he was told. When the Minstrel Boy emerged from the bathroom, Monk pointed the needle gun at his chest.

‘We’re going down to the lobby now.’

He snapped his fingers at Wormo.

‘Give me that coat off the bed.’

Wormo picked up a fur coat off a chair. It was one that the Minstrel Boy had bought during his spending spree. Monk draped it over his arm so it hid the gun.

‘This’ll be pointed at your back all the time. If you try anything I’ll cut you in half.’

The Minstrel Boy nodded. They started towards the door. Wormo was the only one who hesitated. Monk half turned.

‘What’s your problem?’

‘What about the girl and the bellhop?’

‘Leave them. The cleaners’ll find them.’

Wormo licked his lips.

‘Can’t I have them? The girl at least. I’ll take care of her and catch up with you later.’

He looked at Monk expectantly.

Monk shrugged.

‘Stay here and do what you want. You’ll be finished with the job, that’s all.’

Wormo looked disappointedly back at Liza, hesitated for a moment and then reluctantly followed the others. He spotted the Minstrel Boy’s belt of knives. He picked them up.

‘Can I take these?’

Monk nodded impatiently.

‘Take what you want but grab it fast.’

The Minstrel Boy’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. With Monk right behind him he started walking towards the lift.

In one corner of the hotel foyer were a cluster of com-booths. The Minstrel Boy and his escort came out of the lift. Nobody seemed to pay them any attention. They crossed the foyer, threading their way between the flowering plants, glass tables and Bauhaus chairs. They attracted no interest at all. The Minstrel Boy looked round. He wondered what would happen if he tried to run. Monk was right behind him. He imagined the stream of steel needles slicing into his back. His skin crawled and he felt sick. He kept on walking.

The Minstrel Boy seated himself in one of the plastic blisters. Monk positioned himself in the entrance so he could see and hear everything. The gun under the coat was still pointed at him. The Minstrel Boy took the credit card from his pocket. He punched out the coordinates of the bank. A stiff-collared clerk appeared on the screen.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I wish to know the location of Jeb Stuart Ho. I hold a temporary card on his account.’

‘Place the card in the transmission slot and your hand on the scanner.’

The Minstrel Boy did as he was told and the screen clouded. Monk leaned over and hissed at him.

‘What’s going on? Is this some kind of double cross?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘Just wait.’

The screen cleared and the card dropped from the receiver slot. The clerk smiled a thin smile.

‘You’re in luck, sir. Brother Ho has just paid for a meal at Fidel’s Burgers on Authority Plaza.’

The screen went blank. The Minstrel Boy looked up at Monk.

‘There’s your man.’

Monk nodded grimly.

‘That only leaves the question of what we do with you.’

***

Jeb Stuart Ho took one bite out of the Vegie-Wonder and put it down. The brotherhood were not meat eaters. He had passed Fidel’s Regular, Super and the Triple Deck Scrumbo, and picked out the Vegie-Wonder. It was advertised in the menu as a ‘non-meat vegetarian whole-food delight’. It was nasty. The so-called vegetables were sheets of recycled cellulose, die-stamped into crude leaf shapes and dyed a garish green. Jeb Stuart Ho suspected that the burgers were made of the same material, only dyed brown.

He pushed away his meal and looked through the plate glass front of Fidel’s Burgers. He had walked through to Authority Plaza after going to the Orchid House. The guardians had told him A.A. Catto had left. He had been hungry, but the main reason he had come into the place was to attempt to think about his next move. Even this was denied him. Hard metallic music blared from speakers all over the hamburger joint, and jagged patterns of light danced on the walls. The other customers in the place seemed to be munching contentedly.

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head and took his credit card from the pay slot. He stood up and made his way out of Fidel’s Burgers. The pavement was almost deserted. In the centre of the square was a particularly ugly fountain. Lit by searchlights, stylized heroic figures supported a huge marble bowl from which water cascaded over them. The only thing Jeb Stuart Ho could imagine it symbolized was blind stupidity. Apart from a few drunks who staggered round the statue’s base, the centre of the square was equally quiet. It seemed an ideal place to stop and think.

He stepped off the kerb and dodged the ground traffic until he reached the central island. There he walked slowly towards the fountain. He stopped at its rim and stared down into the water. A.A. Catto had eluded him. He couldn’t afford just to roam Litz and hope for another lead. That would undoubtedly give her time to leave the city altogether. There was even a chance that she had done that already. His best action might be to contact Bannion, to see if he had any information on her whereabouts. His other alternative might be to get hold of the Minstrel Boy and find out if he had any more contacts that could be valuable.