Seeker

NINE

Perception is everything.

- Source unknown, approximately twentieth century C.E.

Amy looked distraught. Her blouse was half-hanging out of her belt, her hair was disheveled, her colors clashed. She looked as if she’d gotten dressed on the run. She sighed when I opened the door, thank God I was home, looked back down the corridor, then pushed past me into the apartment. Her eyes were wild.

“He was behind me,” she said. “Just a few minutes ago. He was right behind me.” She was carrying something wrapped in red cloth.

“Hap?”

“Who else?” She went to the window, stood to one side, and looked out. Then she fussed with the drapes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it’s late.”

“It’s okay. Are you all right?”

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Okay. Sit. You’re safe now. How’d you find me?”

“You’re the only Chase Kolpath listed.”

“All right. Good. You did the right thing.”

“He showed up at my place. Pounding on the door. Yelling about the cup.” She wiped away tears and tried to straighten herself.

“What did you do?”

“I told him it was mine.” She started to tremble. “I went out the back. When he gets like that he’s out of his mind.” She unwrapped the red cloth, which was a blouse, and produced the cup. “If it’s okay, I wanted to leave it with you.”

“Sure. If you want.”

“It’ll be safer here. If he gets his hands on it, I’ll never see it again.”

“You said you saw him behind you?”

“A few minutes ago. As I was coming up the walk. I don’t know how he found me here.”

It might have had something to do with your mentioning my name to him, you nitwit.

“Okay,” I said. “Just relax. Everything’ll be okay. We’ll get you some protection.”

“He says it’s not really mine. That he didn’t mean for me to keep it.”

“Why didn’t you call the police, Amy?”

“He’d kill me if I did something like that. You don’t know what he’s like when he gets mad.”

“Okay.”

“He goes crazy.”

I was thinking how much trouble people get into because they can’t keep their mouths shut. “Listen,” I said, “you better stay here tonight. Tomorrow we’re going down to report this and get some help.”

She shook her head violently. “Won’t do any good. He’ll be out again in a couple of days.”

“Amy, you can’t live like this. Eventually, he’s going to hurt somebody. If not you, somebody else.”

“No. It’s not like that. We just need to give him time to cool down.”

Carmen’s voice broke in: “Chase, we have another visitor.”

Amy began to tremble. “Don’t let him in,” she said.

“Relax. I won’t.”

“He’s on something.”

The door has a manual bolt. Extra security because I’ve never completely trusted electronics. I threw it just as the lights went out.

“He did that,” she said. “He has a thing -”

“Okay.”

“It kills power-”

I immediately thought of the Bayloks and their power drain. “I know. Take it easy.

We’re okay. Carmen, are you there?”

No response.

“It shuts everything down-”

A fist pounded on the door. It sounded heavy. Big.

“Open up, Amy.” It was Hap’s growl. No question about that. “I know you’re in there.”

“Go away,” she said.

More pounding. The door, barely visible in the glow of the moon and a streetlamp, literally bent. She was off the sofa, cowering near the window. But we were on the third floor. We weren’t going to get out that way. And there was no back door. “Don’t open it,” she pleaded. Her voice squeaked.

It sounded as if Hap was using a sledgehammer. I took a quick look out the window and saw that the other lights in the building were out, too. “Get into the bedroom,” I told her. “There’s a link on the side table. Use it. Get the police.”

She stood looking at me. Paralyzed.

“Amy,” I said.

“Okay.” Her voice was barely audible.

“Go away,” I told the front door. “I’ve called the police.”

Hap returned a string of profanity. “Open up, bitch,” he added. “Or I’ll do you, too.”

Amy disappeared into the bedroom and the door closed behind her. It had no lock.

Hap went back to pounding, and the latch started to come loose. I tossed the cup on the sofa and threw a cushion over it. Not much of a hiding place. Then, stumbling around in the dark, I drew the curtain across the kitchen entrance and closed the bathroom door.

“I have a scrambler,” I said. “You come in here, and you’re going down.” In fact I did have one, but it was up on the roof, in the skimmer. Good place for it.

He responded with a final hammerblow and the door flew open. It ripped around on its hinges and banged against the wall and he stumbled into the room, big and clumsy and ugly. He was an unnerving sight. I hadn’t taken much notice when I’d visited him under more peaceful circumstances. He was a head taller than I was and maybe two and a half times the weight. He wore a thick black sweater with enormous side pockets. The side pockets bulged, and I wondered whether any of them contained a weapon. Not that he’d need it.

He turned on a flashlight and stuck it in my face. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Where’s who?”

I heard voices in the corridor. And doors opening. I thought about calling for help but Hap read my mind and shook his head. “Don’t do it,” he whispered.

My neighbor across the hall, Choi Gunderson, showed up in the doorway. Was I okay?

Choi was thin, fragile, old. “Yes, Choi,” I said. “We’re fine.”

He stared at the broken door. And at Hap. “What happened?”

“Had a little accident,” Hap growled. “It’s all right, Pop.”

“I wonder what happened to the power,” Choi said, and I thought for a moment he was going to try to intervene. I hoped he wouldn’t.

“Don’t know,” said Hap. “Best you go back to your room and wait until the repair people get here.” The lamplight fell across his open door.

Choi asked again whether I was all right. Then: “I’ll call Wainwright.” The property owner. He withdrew, and I heard his door close.

“Good,” Hap told me. “You’re not as dumb as you look.” He swept the room with the lamp. “Where is she?”

“Hap.” I tried to keep my voice calm. “What do you want?”

He started to say that I knew what he wanted, but stopped in mid-sentence to stare at me. “You’re from the survey.”

I took a step toward him. “Yes.”

“You’re the bitch who came to the house.” The veins in his neck bulged.

“That’s right.” No use denying it.

I was going to say something more, not sure what, I was making it up as I went along.

But he broke in before I got started. “You’re helping her cheat me.”

“Nobody’s cheating you, Hap.”

He grabbed my shoulder and threw me against a wall. “I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he snarled. Railing about what he was going to do to “these goddam bitches,” he looked in the kitchen, used his elbow to knock some glasses to the floor, checked the bathroom, and headed for the bedroom.

He scratched his armpit and yanked the door open. Had to do it manually since he’d killed the power. He pointed the lamp inside. “Come on out, Amy,” he said.

She squealed, and he went in after her. I looked for a weapon while his light bounced around the inside of my bedroom. Amy alternately pleaded with him and shrieked.

He dragged her out by her hair. She was holding my link in one hand.

“The police are on their way, Hap,” I said, in the steadiest voice I could muster. “Best thing for you is to clear out.”

But Amy would never win a prize for brains. She shook her head. No. “I didn’t call them,” she said. And, to Hap: “I didn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“You’ve already caused me a lot of trouble, slut.” He took the link from her, dropped it on the floor, and stomped it. Then he hauled her to his side, twisted her arm behind her, dragged her backward to the front door, and kicked it shut. It banged open again, and a second kick didn’t improve things, so he shoved Amy in my direction, pushed the door closed and dragged a chair in front it. When he was satisfied nobody would come in and break up the party, and that no one was going to get out, he returned his attention to us. “Now, ladies,” he said, “let’s talk about the cup.”

He set the flashlight on a side table and tossed Amy onto the sofa, without ever taking his eyes off me. He was quicker than he looked. “It’s nice to see you again, Kolpath,” he said. “You’re the antique dealer. You never had any connection with a survey group, right? What did you want at my place?” His hands were balled into big meaty fists. If it came to a fight, it was going to be over in a hurry.

I could hear other people in the hallway.

“I thought there might be more where the cup came from.” No use lying.

“Stealing the cup wasn’t enough for you, huh?” He seized Amy’s arm and twisted it.

She cried out. “Where is it, love?”

“Turn her loose,” I said, starting toward him, but all he did was tighten his grip. Tears ran down her face.

I needed a weapon.

There was a hefty bronze bust of Philidor the Great on a shelf behind us. I didn’t look at it, didn’t want to draw his attention to it. But I knew it was there. If he could be distracted…

He leaned over Amy. “Where’s the cup?”

She looked around the room, uncertain what had happened to it. “I must have left it in the bedroom,” she said.

He pulled her to her feet and shoved her toward the open door. “Get it.”

She wobbled off. I was listening to the voices in the hallway. Other than Choi, my neighbors were a young, timid woman, and a guy who was about ninety. No prospect of help there. I hoped someone had called for police.

Amy returned to report she couldn’t find the cup. Couldn’t remember what she’d done with it. Before he could hit her, I pulled the cushion away and showed it to him. Hap broke into a large toothy grin, picked it up, admired it, shook his head like who would have thought this piece of junk would be worth money, and shoved it hard into a pocket. It banged on something, and I winced. The thing had traveled nine thousand years to get mashed by this barbarian.

“What’s it worth?” he asked. He was more or less talking to the wall, his words directed to a blank spot between me and Amy. Anybody who wanted to could reply.

“Probably twenty thousand or so,” I said.

“All right.” He glanced down at the pocket. “Good.”

We stood there while he thought what to do next. He signaled Amy to sit back down on the sofa, and she complied. Hap pointed his flashlight directly at me. I had my hand over my eyes, trying to shield them from the glare. “If you leave now,” I told him, “I’d be willing to forget about this.” You bet. Right after I’d found a way to take him out.

“Yeah,” he said, with a smile that was absolutely cold. “I know you will, because if you make any trouble for me, ever, I’ll break your sweet neck.” He let me see nothing would give him more pleasure. “All right,” he said. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”

Another smile. Then before I even realized it was coming, I caught a stinging slap across the jaw. It knocked me off my feet.

“Get up,” he said.

I was following flashing lights, and the floor felt unsteady.

“You want another one?” He lifted his foot and aimed it at my ribs. “Get up.” I looked at him. Philidor showed up in my peripheral vision, hopelessly out of reach. I staggered to my feet, holding on to the arm of the sofa to keep my head from spinning.

“Now here’s what we’re going to do, Kolpath.”

No two ways about it. This guy was loaded with charisma. I had to admire Amy’s taste in men.

“I want you to make a call. Call whoever you have to. And transfer twenty-two thousand into my account.” He produced a card. “Here’s the number. I’m going to sell you back your cup. Nice honest transaction.”

I decided not to argue with him.

“It was mine, you know. It’s been in our family my whole life. Shouldn’t be anybody else getting that money.”

Absolutely not.

He dug into the same pocket the cup was in and produced a link, which he held out to me. “Make the call,” he said.

“I don’t have the account numbers memorized. I need the AI.”

He raised his fist and I backed away, but he thought better of it. Put me out of business and he can’t get his money. So he went into the other pocket, the left one, and withdrew a dark blue waferlike object. He fiddled with it for a minute, and the lights came back. Carmen’s status lamps blinked.

“It won’t work,” I said. “The police will trace the money.”

“No.” He smiled at my naivete. “It’s a network. The money moves around. Nobody’ll ever know.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, because it meant Amy and I had a short future. He went back into the sweater and came out with a scrambler and pointed it in my direction.

“Do it,” he said.

“Carmen?”

“Yes, Chase.” She was using a different tone than normal, deeper, almost masculine, signaling she would help any way she could.

I took his card and held it up for the reader. “We’re going to transfer twenty-two thousand,” I said.

“Wait a minute,” Hap said. “How much you got in your account?”

“I don’t know without looking.”

He hit me again. This time I was ready and managed to sidestep some of the impact.

Still, it knocked me off my feet again.

“Let her alone,” said Amy. “She didn’t do nothing to you.”

“How much?” he demanded.

I didn’t know. But I gave him a ballpark. “Enough to cover. About twenty-four.”

“Make it thirty.” He jammed the scrambler against my belly, grabbed my hair, and hauled me back onto my feet. “Truth is, Kolpath, you’ve put me to a lot of trouble.”

He twisted my hair. “Empty the account.” He desperately needed a shower. And some mouthwash. “Put it all in there.” He jabbed a finger at his card. If there’d been any doubt about his plans for Amy and me, that settled it.

He was standing in front of the sofa, where he could watch both of us. But I didn’t think he was really worried.

“Which account do we make the transfer from?” Carmen asked, in a flat disinterested tone. I only had one. She was suggesting a course of action. “Perhaps the Baylok account?”

Baylok? And Sky Jordan?

Jordan fighting off the teleporting monsters.

Nobody will ever again tell me household AIs are not sentient. “Yes,” I said, trying to sound subdued. “Let’s do it that way.”

“How much you got in the Baylok account?” demanded Hap.

“Forty-two. Plus change.”

“Maybe you should show me.” He was standing, facing the center of the room, watching the two of us, and moving his weapon casually back and forth to keep us both in the line of fire. He was looking simultaneously malevolent and pleased with himself when the Baylok leaped into the room, snarling and spitting.

Hap jumped.

The thing roared and charged. Amy shrieked. Its jaws gaped and a tentacle sliced toward Hap’s head. Hap fired once and fell backward over a footrest.

I should have gone after the weapon. But I was fixated on Philidor and I swept it off the shelf as he went down. The phantom roared past and I brought the statuette down on Hap’s skull with everything I had. It produced a loud bonk and he screamed and threw both hands up to protect himself. Carmen shut off the VR and I nailed him a second time. Blood spurted. Amy was off the sofa in an instant, begging me to hold fire. The people in the hallway pounded on the door. Was I okay?

I was trying to get another clear shot at Hap. Amy went to her knees on the floor beside him and blocked my angle. “Hap,” she sobbed. “Hap, are you okay, love?”

Maybe I don’t understand these things, but I could have bopped her, too.