BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

sure.But I really don't understand some of these sayings, and I don't think I everwill." She shrugged insouciantly as she came to the counter and set downhis coat and hat. She reached over the side and returned with a ticket in herpalm. "For your coat, whenever you want it back." She smiled, and inher eyes was an innocence he found disturbing.

"Thanks."

"I'm Sally, by the way." The ticket remained in herhand.

He hesitated, then pinched it from her palm. "Muldoon."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Muldoon." She giggled and tookhis coat behind the counter, back to the racks where others like it, only newerand not so wet, already hung in rows.

He watched her go until she was out of sight. Then he took a quickbreath and started down the steps into the heart of The Pearl, where the musicwas louder and the lights were brighter. The belly of the beast.

It had been years. Of that much he was certain. Or as certain ashe could be of anything, considering his current state of mind. Yet nothing hadchanged. The lively action on the dance floor, inspired in no small part by thetireless efforts of the musicians on the stage above, led to the overallatmosphere of cheerful irresponsibility and dared anyone to resist itsinfection. The synthetic waiters constantlymoved about, always with platters full, weaving inand out of the way, never spilling a drop, never coming close, always with abroad smile in place to welcome everyone they passed.

Muldoon looked up the regally carpeted stairs at his right,allowed his gaze to follow them upward until they reached the third tier: theVIP section. That's where the mayor and his visiting unholy guests would be.Doubtful they were holding the boy up there. But the kid had to be somewherenearby, in some dark corner of The Pearl.

There was only one way to find out which one.

He waited for two of the waiters to pass, followed by a tuxedowith a glamour-girl on each arm, headed straight for the dancing throng below.The band's tempo had changed, shifting up a notch, and the energy in the placestepped up to the challenge, drawing many a pair from their tables on all sidesto join in the fervor below.

Muldoon ventured up the stairs against the traffic, one hand inthe pocket of his trousers, an attempt to look at ease in a world now asforeign to him as any Eurasian Province. The eyes facing hisway didn't seem to notice him. They were enraptured by their destination, andlittle else mattered. He was glad of that. The last thing he wanted to do wasexplain what he was doing there.

Even if I could.

But as the masses thinned out and he approached the third tier, hefound his mind racing for a plausible explanation, one that would satisfy theformidable presence standing next to the white sign carrying the same fancyscript he'd seen outside: VIP SECTION. Unlike other eyes which hadseemed to see straight through him, the eyes of the three-meter-tall sentinelglowed down at him as if he were the only one present.

"Name?" the mandroid droned.

Muldoon paused one step below, his hand resting casually on thepolished silver banister. His gaze roved across the limited view his vantagepoint afforded him. "Harry Muldoon. Mayor Reeves is expecting me."

The automaton reached forward with a scanner in its large hand.Muldoon drew back the cuff of his jacket to bare his wrist.

"Ident confirmed," the machine droned as the scanner litup, verifying Muldoon's subdermal tag. "However, you are not expected. Imust ask you to leave. The first and second tiers are open to the public. Youmay enjoy all that The Pearl has to offer in one of those sections."

"There must be some mistake." He strained his neck as helooked around. "I just got a call from the mayor. He said it was urgent,that I should meet him right away. Something about his wife and herboyfriend."

"Unverified." The glowing eyes stared withoutexpression. "You are not expected."

"I understand that. There's no way any of this could havebeen expected." He turned his gaze up to the soulless face of thegiant robot. "But here I am. And I don't think the mayor would take itkindly if he heard you were trying to kick me out."

The mandroid paused, processing this unanticipated turn of eventsin the sophisticated computer behind its humanoid mask.

"I will ask the mayor. Wait here," it droned, pivotingaway and striding toward a table at the far end of the level with an enviableview of the stage.

Muldoon didn't feel like waiting.

He followed a few paces behind, hidden for the most part by themassive frame of the mechanical bouncer in front of him. The tables they passedon either side must have been deserted recently, as martini glasses andappetizers by the score sat unfinished. The few patrons who remained in theirseats were of the oldest generation, humans by the looks of them, and withselective hearing that could choose to ignore the dance floor when it beckoned.Particularly when a fresh round of drinks was being served by an ever-so-politesynthetic waiter. A few elderly eyes gave Muldoon a perfunctory glance thatevolved into a curious gawk as they noticed his failure to dress for theoccasion. Doesn't he know he's at The Pearl? For crying out loud!

"Mayor Reeves, please forgive this intrusion," themandroid began as it came to a halt, its tone neither apologetic nor affable."But there is a man who says he is here to see you. His name is not on thelist."

"Where is he?" came the mayor's jovial response.

"Right here." Muldoon stepped out from behind theautomaton with an attempt at a friendly salute.

The robot turned, its sizable arm swinging outward, slamming intoMuldoon's chest and sending him sprawling backward against a table, knocking itover, skidding across the carpet into another table, knocking it over as well,as chairs flipped in every direction. Shocked gasps echoed from the vicinity ofthe elderly patrons, and the mayor uttered a cry of dismay. To Muldoon, unableto catch his breath, let alone make a sound, it felt as though his lungs hadcollapsed beneath two sets of broken ribs. He hoped it wasn't as bad as allthat.