It had opened less than halfway when Islipped sideways past it into the tank farm.
The alarms were hooting in here, too, and redlights were flashing, though the regular lights were on, too.
“Please identify yourself,” somethingsaid.
“Hu Xiao,” I said. “Officer of the court, oncity business.” I was in a corridor, with rows of black panels setwith video displays on either side-dreamtanks, I assumed. I hadnever seen one up close before.
The hooting stopped, but the red flashesdidn’t. “Please state the nature of your business.”
“I’m investigating a reported kidnaping,” Ilied, trotting down the corridor.
At the first intersection I stopped andlooked around for some indication of where I should go, and sawthat the passage I was in was labeled T5, while the corridorcrossing it was R1. I headed straight on.
At the next intersection Corridor T5 crossedCorridor R2. I smiled; that seemed straightforward enough, andpicked up the pace.
“Please explain the nature of yourinvestigation,” the voice said, startling me. It had been quiet forso long I thought it had given up.
“Classified,” I told it.
R3, R4…
“Human personnel have been contacted, and areon their way to discuss the situation,” it said. “Please have yourcity ID ready.”
“Of course,” I said, and I drew the HG-2.
“Officer Hu, your appearance and voice do notmatch the information on file.”
“Rejuve surgery,” I said as I got to thecorner of R6 and hesitated. “I need to update that.” I picked adirection at random and turned right.
Bad choice. The intersections were muchfarther apart in this direction, so by the time I spotted the redT6 on the wall above the corner tank I could hear footsteps in thedistance.
“Hello?” someone called. It sounded like aman, not a machine, but you can’t always tell. “Officer Hu?”
“Over here,” I called. “Row Five.” I turnedand hurried back down Row Six, hoping we wouldn’t cross the Tier 5corridor at the same time.
We didn’t. A moment later the voice wasbehind me, calling, “Officer Hu?”
I was in Row 6, between the T4 and T5corridors-did that put me in Tier 4? And which tank was Station 31?I didn’t see any numbers.
“Officer Hu, if you don’t show yourself I’llhave to call Security.”
“I’m over here,” I said, while I wondered whoI was talking to. Wasn’t he Security? Did he mean he’d have to callfor reinforcements? I stopped midway down the row and studied thenearest dreamtank’s display panel. It was blank. I tapped it with afingernail.
The word STANDBY appeared on the panel.
“Status report,” I said.
“Officer Hu?”
“Right here,” I called, as the screen litup.
The red flashing lights were distracting, butI could read the screen. TIER 4, ROW 6, STATION 18, it said at thetop. OHTA, AZRAEL-I took that to be the occupant’s name. Ascreenful of data appeared below that-medical data, a list ofrecently-played dreams, and more. Azrael Ohta’s blood glucose was72 and his BP was 91 over 63, which both seemed a little low, butotherwise he appeared to be in good health, and he was eighty-threeminutes into something called “Desert Encounter 306,” withthirty-one minutes to go.
But he wasn’t my father. I turned around andlooked at the opposite side of the corridor. A tap on that panelgot me the STANDBY message.
And then a paunchy guy in a purple turban andblue worksuit appeared at the corner of T5 and R6, looking atme.
“You’re not Hu Xiao,” he said
“Neither are you,” I said, hoping to confusehim.
“I saw a picture,” he said. “You aren’tOfficer Hu. Who are you? What are you doing here?”
I sighed, pressed the power button, andraised the HG-2. “I’m threatening you with a heavy-gravity handgunloaded with homing incendiaries,” I said. “That’s what I’m doinghere. Now, are you going to cooperate, or is this going to getnasty?”
Chapter Twelve
He raised his hands slowly and stared at me. “Whoare you?” he asked.
“I’m the person with the gun,” I told him, asI stepped away from the dreamtank and trained the HG-2 on hisgenerously-sized belly. “That’s all you need to know rightnow.”
“You’re trespassing.”
“Oh, there’s a shock,” I said. “Did you thinkI hadn’t noticed?”
“What do you want here? There’s nothing worthstealing.”
“Is that why you aren’t armed?”
“Why would I be armed? I’m justmaintenance.”
“Not security?”
“No. Why would we have a human guard here?There’s nothing worth stealing!”
“Security has been summoned,” the roomsaid.
“Tell them to stay back-there’s a hostagesituation,” I said, keeping the gun pointed at the maintenanceworker.
“They won’t be here for twenty minutesanyway,” my hostage said. “Our security is the casino cops from theGinza, and they’ll want to clear it with management before theycome down here.”
I considered that, then asked, “Why are youtelling me?”
“Hey, you’re pointing a gun at me. I don’twant you getting nervous because things aren’t going the way youexpect them to.”
That made sense. “Which of these is Station31?” I asked, nodding toward the dreamtanks on my right. “Give me ahand, and I can be out of here before the casino cops ever show up.No danger of getting caught in the crossfire.”
“Thirty-One?” He blinked, then pointed,keeping his hand high as he did. “Over there somewhere.” The handsdrooped a little. “Is that what you’re after? One of these lose…I mean, one of our clients?”
“That’s right. Can you get him out forme?”
“You gonna kill him?”
I grimaced. “No,” I said. Then a memory ofwhat it had felt like when the three of us got the news that ourparents were dumping us stirred in the back of my head somewhere,and I added, “Though he maybe deserves it.”
“He owes you money?” He shook his head. “Hecan’t pay it. That’s part of the deal. The company takes control ofall assets and all debts when the babies go in the bottle. Theygive up control of their own affairs. If he has any money left, hecan’t touch it.”
“I know that!” I snapped. “I’m not hereto…never mind. Just open Station 31, will you? It’s none of yourbusiness what I want with him.”
He shrugged. “Sure. No juice out of mysystem.” He lowered his hands and headed toward one of the tanks.He tapped the display and said, “Maintenance.”
The screen lit up. He glanced at it and said,“Oops.” He moved two panels over and repeated his performance,except this time instead of “oops,” he said, “Got it.”
I moved cautiously closer, keeping the gunready and staying a couple of meters out of reach.
TIER 4, ROW 6, STATION 31, the top line ofthe display read, and the second line said HSING, GUOHAN.
That was him.
“Huh,” the maintenance worker said. “Is thatspelled right?”
“Yes,” I said. “Get him out.”
“I mean, it’s usually Singh, S I N G H.That’s how I spell it. Maybe the H is in the wrong place.”
I put that together with the guy’s turban.“He’s not a Sikh,” I said. “The name’s Chinese, with an archaicspelling. Now, get him out of there.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” theturbaned man-presumably Mis’ Singh-said.
“Security is on its way,” the room remindedus. “Please do not take any hasty actions.”
“Get him out,” I repeated.
“He’s been in there a long time,” themaintenance worker warned me. “If I get him out he’s going to bepretty disoriented, and there’s probably been some muscleatrophy.”
I hadn’t really thought that through. I knewhe might not be feeling very cooperative after being snatched outof his mechanical womb, away from his pretty fantasies, but thatwas one reason I’d brought the gun. That he might not be able towalk could complicate matters.
I couldn’t take the whole tank; it was toobig, and built into the floor. It wasn’t designed to move. I had toget my father out, and if he couldn’t walk, that was a problem.