Conspiracy

47

Tommy Karr had cut a good jagged line into the bottom of his calf. It wasn’t deep, but it was definitely artistic, looking like a bolt from a Scandinavian lightning god.

Which suited Karr just fine. He cleaned it up and re-dressed it as soon as he woke, pronounced it patched, then went down to the hotel’s breakfast lounge, where he found Charlie Dean drinking coffee at a table tucked between plastic fronds.

“You’re limping,” said Dean.

“Scandinavian, actually.” Karr smiled, then went over to the coffee urn at the side of the room. While he was gone, a waiter came over to take his order; Karr found the man standing idly by the table when he returned.

“You can get the next one,” said Karr, sitting down.

“You sleep all right?” asked Dean.

Karr nearly choked on the coffee. “Whoa — high-test.”

Coffee in Asia tended to be as weak as tea; this was the exception. He felt a caffeine shock rush through his body. “Really gets ya goin’, huh, Charlie?”

“I guess.”

“I slept OK,” said Karr, getting back to Dean’s question.

“How about yourself?”

“Like a lamb.”

“I always wondered about that,” said Karr. “How do lambs really sleep? They look all cuddly and all, but do we really know that they’re sleeping soundly? Maybe they have nightmares about wolves.”

“Could be.” Dean sipped his coffee. “What do you think about swapping assignments? Your leg seems pretty bad.”

“Nah. I’m fine.”

“You’re limping.”

“Chafing from the ban dages.” Karr held up his cup.

“Ready for a refill,” he said to the waiter, who was across the room.

“Tommy, is your leg really bad?” asked Marie Telach, who’d been listening in over the com system. Unlike Dean and Lia, Karr almost never turned the system off.

“See, now ya got Mom worried,” Karr told Dean. “I’m fine,” he added, speaking to the Art Room. “What’s the latest on Thao Duong?”

“Still sleeping in his apartment. He got back about three hours after you left.”

“What do you figure he was doing?”

“I believe that’s your job to find out,” said Telach.

“Must be getting toward the end of the shift,” Karr told Dean.

“He’s stirring,” interrupted Sandy Chafetz, their runner.

“Tommy, your subject is getting up.”

“Boy, and I was just about ready to see what they had for breakfast.”

“I’ll go,” offered Dean.

“Nah. Coffee’s got my heart racing anyway. Got to do something to work it off.” Karr got up. “Check in with you later.”