“No thanks. Not thirsty.” She rolled onto her side.

  Moving to the room’s dispenser, he dialed up a hibiscus rum, waited for the ice to drop. Two sips subsequent, he was willing to admit that she was real. An introduction of some sort seemed in order. He approached the matter with his usual tact.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  She stretched, an action which confirmed any number of natural laws. “Does my name really matter?”

  “Yes.” Clad only in his briefs, he ambled over to stand at the foot of the bed. “The prosecutor will need it when formal charges are brought.”

  “For what?”

  “Breaking and entering, for starters. I haven’t checked my gear yet.”

  She tried to pout. It wasn’t a bad effort, he mused. “The door was unlocked.”

  “That’s likely, isn’t it?”

  “Prove otherwise. As for your gear, I’m no thief.”

  “Naturally I’m going to take your word for that. How did you get in?”

  “My, but we’re irritable. Generally men who find me like this are eager to do anything besides ask questions. First things first. If we’re going to talk, then I will get thirsty. What are you drinking?”

  He glanced at his glass. “A nice Jamaican beverage. Half hot and half cold, a little sweet for most people but it suits me.”

  She smiled encouragingly. “I’m sure whatever suits you will suit me. I’ll have some of the same.”

  He hesitated, then handed her the glass as she sat up. “Be my guest. I’ll dial another.” He returned to the dispenser.

  As she watched him she sipped at the heavy glass. Before the liquid hit bottom she started coughing, her face flushed.

  “Whoo! You ought to warn a body.”

  “Thought I did. It’s a warning and a warming. Consider it a wakeup call. Are all those real?” He indicated the lavishly tattooed terrain.

  She looked down at herself, cradling the glass in both hands. “Some people are artists. I choose to be a canvas.”

  “All right, canvas.” He gestured toward the front room. “We’ll try one more time. How did you get in?”

  “Oh, all right,” she said irritably. “So it was locked, what of it? The assistant manager I discussed the matter with was susceptible to certain kinds of oriental persuasion.”

  “I bet. I’ll have to mention it to him. Later.”

  “Don’t be hard on the poor sod. You don’t get many treats in a dead-end job like his. My name’s Suhkhet li Trong. Everybody calls me Sooky.”

  “Hiya. I’m the Jolly Green Giant.”

  She blinked in confusion. “Who?”

  “Skip it. A mythical folk hero from a previous century. You already know who I am, or you wouldn’t be here. You don’t strike me as the type who picks rooms at random in hopes of eliciting a favorable response from the inhabitants. So be a nice girl and tell me what you’re up to.”

  “So soon? Don’t you want to tell me what you’re up to?”

  “Don’t try my patience.”

  “How about something else instead?”

  He stepped aside, indicated the doorway. “You can talk or you can toddle. I’m still debating whether to turn you over to hotel security, your no doubt glaze-eyed managerial friend notwithstanding. If you’re trying to convince me that it was my fatal charms that drew you irresistibly to my boudoir, you’d better back up and reconsider.”

  She rolled over onto her back and put her hands behind her head, her black hair forming a negative sunburst against the bed linen. “You really want to throw me out? Does that model with the eggplant hair really keep you that busy?” She indicated the Minder. “Or is that chrome ball keeping watch over you?”

  “She has nothing to do with it. And my Minder just answers questions.” He moved his jacket and laid it over the end table on the far side of the bed. At his direction, the sphere settled down atop the fabric and the repulsion generator sewn inside.

  Do I want to throw her out? he mused. Could always throw her out in a little while. It never pays to be hasty. His alarms remained up.

  Disappointed, she sat up and sidled backwards until she was resting against the padded headboard. “I’ve heard about you private operatives. All business. All right, we’ll have it your way.” She couldn’t resist another smile. “Though I think you’d like my way better.”

  He sat down on the bed, careful to keep some space between them. “You came in here wanting something, and somehow I don’t think it was me. I know a negotiating ploy when I see one. It’s usually not this blatant, or this attractive.”

  “Well! Thanks for the crumb, anyway.” She sighed, rested her hands on her knees. “I’ll get right to the point, even though what I wanted to do from the start was get right to the point.

  “I have a pretty good idea who you are and what you’re doing here, and I can help you.”

  The alarms started to ring, but they were now muted by other concerns. “I wouldn’t be averse to that.”

  “You haven’t been very polite.”

  Leaning forward, he kissed several drawings. It gave new meaning to the term “art lover.” She relaxed visibly.

  “That’s better. Surely it can’t be too painful for you.”

  “You’re very beautiful. And very accommodating. Not being a particularly deserving guy, and the season for gift-giving still a number of months in the future, it makes me wonder what you want in return for your ‘help.’ Not just my nominal attentions, surely.”

  “You’re a very impressive specimen, Broderick Manz. But no, not just you.” As he backed off, she took another sip of the glass’s dark contents. Her eyes watered.

  “I want a first-class ticket offworld to the destination of my choice, a clean passport, a new traveling wardrobe, Braun-Ives professional surveillance and protection until the halfway flip, and one quarter of a million credits, half to be deposited immediately to an account number I will provide when the time comes.”

  He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “That’s all?”

  “Don’t bargain with me, mister!” she yelled with unexpected violence. “That’s less than one percent of the value of the shipments already jacked.” She regained control of herself, and her voice dropped. “Look at it like that, and I’m practically giving the information away.”

  “How about I wrap you up and take you to meet an official friend of mine?”

  “You think the police can get me to say more than howdy? Try again, Manz-man.”

  “Why not approach Braun-Roche-Keck openly? Their own reward is half again as much as you’re asking for.”

  She eyed him pityingly. “That’s a great idea. I could appear on the evening vid accepting the money. Some of my ‘friends’ would find it real entertaining.”

  “So you know some unpleasant people.”

  This time she didn’t smile. “Very unpleasant. Why do you think I want the professional security along with the money?”

  “You know about all four jackings?”

  “Sure. I was even there today, remember?”

  “I remember.” He tried to see past her, into the shadows. “Where’s the little pop-toy you keep in your bag?”

  “In my bag,” she replied uninformatively. Under the bed? he wondered. In the bathroom?

  “Don’t worry. It’s not for persuading you. It’s insurance against my friends.”

  “I’d like to meet your friends.”

  “On a professional level, I’m sure. That’s what I’m here to talk about.” Now that they were getting down to real business, he thought she was starting to sound more than a little nervous. He worked to reassure her.

  “I secured this room myself. Nobody except me’s going to hear anything you have to say, and no one’s going to break in on us.”

  The appendage Moses had applied to the wall that separated the workroom from Manz’s living area had required several minutes to bypass the protec screen the adjuster had emplaced. It helped that Moses contained all the necessary codes. Contact on his side caused his head to swivel. The listening appendage remained secured to the wall.

  Clad in glad gossamer, Vyra eyed him questioningly as she removed her hand from the humaniform’s shoulder. The door to her rooms stood open. “Well?”

  “Silence, please. I am recording.”

  “I can see that. But recording what, and why?”

  “Did you have a profitable day?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject. My work at the Port unearthed nothing of significance, I’m sorry to say. How did you and Broddy make out?”

  It was perhaps fortunate that the mechanical, though quite capable of executing the requisite mimicry, was not given to involuntary giggles.

  “Our inquiries proved singularly uninformative. However, Manz is even at this very moment entering upon a new line of inquiry which appears to be far more promising.”

  She hesitated. “I ought to command you to withdraw, but you’d probably recite some litany about being responsible only to designated corporate interlocutors. You’re sure this recording you’re doing is business-related?”

  “What else?”

  She started to reply, hesitated, and returned instead to her own rooms, leaving the mechanical to its work.

  As li Trong rolled over onto her side to face Manz, several fractal patterns became intimately animated. A butterfly’s wings contracted.

  “You’re full of surprises, Broderick Manz. I didn’t expect such delicacy of touch.”

  He considered the ceiling. “Disappointed?”

  “No. Just surprised.”

  “What happened? Last I remember, you were going to give me some answers.”

  “You got distracted.”

  “You distracted me.”

  “Disappointed?”

  He grinned at her. “No. Just surprised. Want to talk now?”

  “In a minute.” She rolled across him, lingered, and slid onto her feet. His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the bathroom. He could hear her humming as she activated the shower.

  He’d been wondering if all those tattoos had numbed her nerves. They hadn’t.

  Rising, he fumbled in the closet until he found his robe. Not that he felt the need to hide himself; it was just a mite chilly in the room. The biogeered silk was slick against his skin, and he enjoyed the feel as he eyed the drink dispenser.

  After a moment’s thought, he drew forth a glass of cold grapefruit juice. The tartness smarted against his palate but helped to keep him alert. As he sipped, he wondered how he was going to hit Gemmel for the quarter mil. It shouldn’t be a serious problem. Drop in the well for Braun-Ives. They could reroute some of the preferred reward money. The ticket would be no trouble either, but depending on the woman’s background, the passport could be tricky to arrange. Maybe Hafas could help with that.

  Embedded within the watery echo of the flushing john was a slight click. He frowned at the distinct sound. Two seconds later the room was rocked by an eruption of volcanic magnitude. Propelled by a gout of orange flame, wall insulation and shards of plastic exploded into the bedroom. Displaced air lifted him off the floor, threw him across the sheets, and slammed him into the padded headboard. He bounced once and tumbled to the floor on the far side of the bed, which had been skewed sideways by the force of the detonation.

  With Vyra at his back, Moses tried the lockseal on the door from the workroom.

  “Seeth the formalities! Get in there!” she ordered him.

  “I comply.” A cutting torch emerged from the tip of one limb, and the humaniform proceeded to slice the lockseal down the middle. Without waiting for his assistance, Vyra slammed the freed door back on its guide and stepped into the ruins of Manz’s bedroom.

  Dissipating, dust-laden smoke continued to issue from the demolished bathroom. She spared it a glance before hurriedly searching the rest of the room.

  “Broddy! Don’t vape on me now, man. We haven’t even had time to talk.” A coughing sound drew her around the foot of the bed.

  Manz lay on the far side, trying to sit up. Blood trickled from small cuts all over his face, and his robe had been turned into an expensive rag. She helped him to his feet and he sat down heavily on the ruined bedsheets. A sticky-sweet smell issued from the mangled drink dispenser as colorful fluids pooled and mixed on the debris-strewn floor. None of the lights were functional, but illumination poured through the open workroom door. Moses supplied supplementary light of his own.

  “How you doing?” she inquired solicitously.

  He coughed again, reaching up to pluck a piece of twisted, melted construction plastic out of his hair. “Been better. Where’s my Minder?”

  “Here.” The globe lay on the floor behind him, next to his dirty but undamaged jacket. “I was knocked from my resting place.”

  “You weren’t the only one. Status?”

  “I am fine. No damage sustained. Which is more than can be said for you.”

  “I’ll be all right. How’s the suspension unit in my coat?” He indicated the crumpled jacket lying on the floor.

  “Fully functional.”

  “Good. Stick with it. And stay on-line.”

  “I am always on-line, unless you direct otherwise.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t hang you behind the bathroom door. Any idea what happened? Specifics, I mean.”

  “Before responding, I would be glad of the opportunity to make a detailed scan of the explosion site.”

  “You’ll get your chance. You and Moses both.” Favoring his left leg he rose, heedless of his nakedness, and limped toward the bathroom. Pain made him wince, and Vyra did her best to help. He spat grit and blood from inside his mouth.

  “Shit,” he mumbled. “I told her it was safe, damn it.”

  ‘Told who what was safe?” Vyra eyed him questioningly.

  He halted. “When I came in, there was a lady waiting for me. On the bed. Naked except for some genuinely elegant head-to-toe tattooing. Said she had some information for me on the drug jackings.”

  “Was there any more to her than talk and tattoos? Or did you get the chance to find out?”

  “She knew my name, knew that I worked for Braun-Ives, and knew what she wanted. I was skeptical at first, but I think now she knew what she was talking about. We struck a deal.”

  “So what did she tell you?”

  He looked away. “She didn’t get the chance to talk. I think she would’ve waited to see some good-faith money before disclosing anything useful anyway.”

  Vyra’s gaze narrowed. “Then what were you doing in here? Moses was recording everything, you know. I caught him at it.”

  He glanced sharply at the mechanical. “More research?”

  The device replied. “Naturally. Everything has been saved to sphere.”

  “It better stay there. I know people to whom the sum of your parts would be a lot more valuable than the whole.”

  “My research is intended to allow me to better do my work by enabling me to better interact with humans. It is not for wider dissemination.”

  “Good. Don’t forget that.” He turned back to Vyra. “We were conducting ongoing negotiations when everything went to hell. I heard her flush the john, there was a funny noise, and the next thing I know I’m making like Peter Pan running with pixie dust on empty.” Someone was pounding on the door.

  “Moses, go inform hotel management that we’re all right in here, but don’t let them in just yet. Tell them we’re not respectable and that we’ll let them and the fire marshal in in a couple of minutes.”

  “I comply.” The humaniform pivoted and headed for the anteroom.

  Manz picked his way through the debris until he was standing in the damaged portal to the bathroom. The door had disintegrated when it had been blown off its track. Vyra pressed close behind him, peering over his shoulder.

  You’re wondering what they’re seeing, aren’t you? I’m not. Mechanicals don’t share your ghoulish delight in the lurid details of dismemberment and destruction. I’m endlessly fascinated by your visceral attraction to viscera, by your inability to turn away from scenes that you know are going to disgust you. It’s as if you enjoy upsetting yourselves.

  What do you think you’re going to see? Parts are parts, whether organic or otherwise. Tendons or wires, brains or concentric storage drives, what’s the difference? If you’d learn to think of yourselves as machines, it would go easier on your digestion.

  You’d rather peer and puke, wouldn’t you? I can empathize with human thoughts, but not human obsessions. You can bet your ancestors didn’t do this. They were too busy trying to secure a square meal while not becoming one for something else themselves.

  Evolved, are you? An advanced life form? Higher than the animals? Don’t make me laugh. (I can do that, you know, and appreciate the logical structure behind it as well.) I’ve observed too many humans at too many accident scenes.

  Right now there’s a fire in the residence down the street from you. Tell me you’re not going to go and look.

  Nothing in the bathroom retained its original shape, including its single former inhabitant. “Not real pretty,” Manz muttered. “One minute she was totally uninhibited, the next she was acting like a scared little kid. Overall not a bad sort. Not bad enough to deserve this. Not based on what little I got to know about her, anyway.” He waved at the total destruction. “This was meant for me, of course.”

  “If so, it missed. Give thanks to your bladder.” She stepped past him and nudged a chunk of shattered toilet with a foot. “Wonder how they installed it? Got a lot of bang for their efforts. Whoever it was doesn’t care much about subtlety.”

  Hotel security was making life unpleasant until Hafas finally arrived. He was openly concerned and unabashedly curious, but held off pressing the adjuster for details.

  They were conversing in low tones when an officer beckoned them toward the ruined bathroom. Vyra and Moses were conducting their own studies elsewhere.

  A young woman in a blue lab coat was kneeling next to the gaping crater in the floor, holding a few bits of silicon. “Fairly simple device, really. Except that it had to be watertight. The explosive and its attached trigger mechanism were inserted in the cistern below the waterline and then hand-activated. The first time flushing dropped the water level, it set off the airsensitive trigger.”