“If it doesn’t work with your fiancй, and you come back . . .” he began optimistically.
“You’ll be top of my list. Promise.”
He watched her disappear through the doors, standing with his arms hanging limply at his side. The finality of it was appalling. For one mad moment he wanted to rush after her.
“You’ll get over it, son,” the doorman said. “Plenty more of them out there.”
“Not like her!” Andy shouted back.
The doorman shrugged, and smiled with infuriating smugness.
Andy turned fast, and walked away through the night-time crowds that were clogging the pavement. “I kissed her, though,” he whispered. “I really did.” He gave an incredulous little guffaw as the enormity of the contact finally registered. “I kissed Louise Kavanagh.” Laughing broadly he set off towards Islington; he was far too broke to pay for a metro trip.
Louise waited until Genevieve was tucked up in bed before she called Banneth.
“Hello. You don’t know me, but I’m Louise Kavanagh. I’m calling to warn you about someone called Quinn Dexter. Do you know him?”
“Fuck off.” The contact was cancelled.
Louise datavised Banneth’s eddress to the room’s net processor again. “Look, this is important. I met Quinn Dexter on Norfolk, and he’s going to . . .”
A red cross icon flashed persistently as the contact was cancelled again. The next time Louise datavised Banneth’s eddress she got a filter program which requested her icon tag. She loaded it in, only to be told she wasn’t on the receiver’s approved reception list. “Damnation!”
“What’s the matter?” Genevieve peered over at her from the bed, duvet clutched round her shoulders.
“Banneth won’t talk to me. I don’t believe this, after everything we’ve been through to warn her. How . . . How stupid. ”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Call Robson, I suppose.” She datavised the detective’s eddress into the processor, wondering if the man was psychic. Not a bad thing for a private eye.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ll come right over.”
The cocktail lounge was a mistake. Louise sat at a table by herself and ordered an orange juice while she waited for Ivanov Robson to arrive. The decor was as polished as the rest of the hotel, with honey-brown wooden panels and gold-framed mirrors covering the walls. Chandeliers kept it well lit, although it seemed shady, like a woodland glade. There were enough different bottles behind the rosewood bar to make the shelving look like an art exhibition.
Whether it was the wine and Norfolk Tears finally catching up with her, or just the superb cushioning of the deep leather chair, Louise suddenly started to feel warm and drowsy. It didn’t help that she had to deflect seemingly dozens of offers from young (and not-so-young) men to buy her a drink and keep her company. She was worried that she was being too sharp when she turned them down. Whatever would mother say?
One of the tailcoated waiters eventually came over, an ancient man with large white sideburns who put her in mind of Mr Butterworth. “Are you sure you want to stay here, miss?” he asked kindly. “There are quieter rooms available for residents.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Ivanov Robson said.
“Of course, sir.” The waiter bowed, and backed away.
The giant detective’s gaze slid along the line of men sitting up at the bar. All of them suddenly found something else of interest.
“No offence, Louise, but if you’re going to wear that kind of dress, you really shouldn’t be in a bar by yourself. Not even here. It sends out some seriously strong signals.” He sat down in the chair beside her, his bulk making the leather creak.
“Oh.” She looked down, only just realizing she was still in the blue dress she’d worn as a treat for Andy. “I think I may have had too much to drink. I went out for a meal with a friend earlier on.”
“Indeed? I didn’t think you were wearing it for my benefit. Though I would have been highly flattered. You look quite gorgeous.”
Louise blushed. “Um . . . thank you.”
“You do know your neural nanonics have a suppression program to deal with a wee bit too much mouth-alcohol interaction, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Well they do. Perhaps if you were to put it into primary mode, this would be a more productive meeting.”
“Right.” She called up the control architecture, and hunted round for the suppresser program. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually the bar wasn’t so warm. Deep breaths conjured up the kind of alertness she employed during difficult school exams.
A cut-crystal tumbler of whisky had appeared on the small table at Ivanov’s side. He took a sip, watching her intently. “Better now?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Though she was unhappy about the dress; people were still giving her the kind of looks Andy had, but without his endearing reticence.
“What happened with Banneth?” Ivanov asked.
“She cut me off. I couldn’t tell her anything.”
“Humm. Not entirely surprising. I accessed several facts about her during my investigation that indicate she’s not an average citizen. The Edmonton police have amassed a rather large file on her activities. They believe she’s involved with some kind of criminal organization; supplying illegal hormones and bitek products. Any mention of her former colleagues is bound to make her prickly. And you were right about this Dexter character, he was deported; the charge was aggravated resistance of arrest. The cops suspected he was a courier for Banneth.”
“Now what do I do?”
“You have two options. One, you can forget it and stay in London. We’re safe for now. I keep my ear close to the ground, the possessed haven’t appeared here yet.”
“I can’t. Please don’t ask why, but I have to give Banneth a proper warning. I didn’t come all this way to be thwarted by the last mile.”
“I understand. In that case, I reluctantly advise you to visit Edmonton. If you meet Banneth face to face she’ll see you are neither a police entrapment agent, nor a nutcase. She’ll take your warning seriously.”
“But Edmonton has been isolated.”
“Not any more.” He took a sip of whisky, watching her closely. “The vac-trains have started running again. I guess the authorities have eliminated the possessed, or think they have.”
“Quinn Dexter will be there,” she said softly.
“I know. That’s why I advised you to stay away before. However, if you’re set on this, I’ll accompany you and provide what protection I can. If he’s as bad as you say he is, it won’t amount to much. But it’s better than nothing.”
“You’d do that?”
“You’ll have to pay for it. But I include bodyguard services in my job description.”
It still wasn’t over. Louise fought to hold back the fear she felt at the prospect of walking into an arcology where she was sure Quinn would visit. But dear Fletcher had been so adamant, and she’d promised. “Do you know where Banneth is?”
“Yes. I have a contact in the Edmonton police who’s keeping me informed. If you decide you want to do this, we can go straight to her. You deliver your message, and we walk out. I doubt that’ll take more than ten minutes. We could be back here in London in less than five hours.”
“I can’t leave Gen. Not even for that.”
“I’m sure the hotel can arrange for someone to look after her tonight.”
“You don’t understand. She’s my responsibility; Gen and I are all that’s left of our home, our family, maybe even our whole planet. I can’t put her in any more danger. She’s only twelve years old.”
“The danger is the same here as it is in Edmonton,” he said levelly.
“No it isn’t. Just being in the same arcology as Banneth is dangerous. Govcentral should never have opened the vac-trains to Edmonton again.”
“I can get my hands on the kind of weapon which the Liberation army is using on Mortonridge. They’re proven against the possessed. That puts the odds back in our favour.”