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thanks for traveling with the Tinsel Town Bus Co."
Tugging his lone suitcase from under his seat, Gomez made his way along
the aisle. Five other passengers were getting off at this stop.
The eternal midday was pleasantly warm. Gomez whistled as he crossed
the pictorial paving and entered the lobby.
It was cool and shadowy and appeared to have an intricately patterned
mosaic tile floor, a splashing marble fountain and ceiling beams of
sturdy redwood.
"Gomez," he informed the polished silvery robot desk clerk. "I have a
reservation."
The clerkbot was wearing a shirt decorated with animated jungle
landscapes. "I noticed you admiring our lobby, sir," he said as he
consulted his computer terminal. "You'll be interested to know that
it's all an illusion, created by the clever use of holograms and
special effects. It's just about nearly one hundred percent fake."
"Bueno, "said the detective, smiling, "this sounds like my sort of
place."
WOLFE BOSCO GESTURED expansively, waving a hand at the immense swimming
pool. "My star has risen, Gomez. I am no longer the pathetic schlep
that you encountered a few weeks ago down in the other Hollywood."
1Oo "Why, gee, you even have new hair."
The small talent scout stroked the hair at his temple. "I look
terrific as a blond," he explained. "When you lunch at an exclusive
place like the Poolside Lounge, you're obliged to appear at your
best."
Gomez observed, "You also have far fewer wrinkles than when last we
met."
"Exactly. The larger the salary, the fewer the wrinkles." He rested
an elbow on the small white tabletop. "So, Gomez, how can I be of
service to you?"
Gomez was scanning the forty-some tables that circled the sunlit
outdoor pool. Every one was occupied, and behind the rows of tables
were a dozen small wooden cabafias for those who favored some privacy
for their dining. "I hear, from the first chap
I contacted after arriving at this sundrenched paradise, that you're
still not above peddling information, Wolfe."
The diminutive agent rested his other elbow on the table.
"Since I landed my top client, Jacko Fuller, a fat picture deal,
I've cut back on some of my other activities," he confided. "Still,
for old time's sake and a nice big fee, I'll be happy to lend a hand."
He paused to wave at a passing blonde. "Hiya, Linda.
That's Linda Turner, Jacko's co star in Love Me Forever. It's lensing
right now over at Galactic Studios."
"I'm truly impressed, Wolfe, at the way you've been able to sell that
rundown android replica of a washed-up second-rate singer to these--"
"Shush! Ixnay, Gomez." He slapped his palm over Gomez's hand, shook
his blond head warningly and then took a very careful look around at
the adjoining tables. "Don't go spreading nasty rumors like that about
my number-one client." His voice had dropped to a near whisper.
Gomez laughed. "Ah," he said, "you haven't informed any of these
moguls that your Jacko isn't actually a human being."
"Everybody who runs the movie business is young, extremely youthful,
Gomez," Wolfe quietly informed him. "They, not a
one of them, don't remember the original Jacko Fuller. They think my
boy's the real thing. Hell, I could never get the kind of money
they're paying for him if they were wise he's an andy sim. So let
them, callow schmucks that they are, go on thinking he's the genuine
article."
"Serves 'em right," agreed Gomez. "Now about our negotiations?"
"I was a schmuck to admit my little con," sighed the agent ruefully.
"You're probably going to hold that over me as we talk fees."
"Nope, Wolfe, I'm going to be extremely generous--in spite of the fact
that I can screw up your present and future career.
$200."
"$200? Am I hearing correctly? No, I can't be." He patted his
wrinkle-free cheeks with his palms. "That's an insulting sort of And
yet, it's not all that bad. I'll take it, especially, Gomez,
since you happen to have me by the goonies."
"You know Sheldon Gates, don't you?"
"A goniff, but, yeah, I do, alas," said the agent. "Ran into him a few
times down on Earth."
"Is he here?"
"You mean at the Poolside Lounge? Naw, this is too high class a
hangout for the--"
"Here on New Hollywood."
Wolfe twisted in his seat to watch a slim, tanned blonde young woman
make a perfect dive into the pool off the high board. "Too bad her
tits are too small for longterm stardom," he commented. "Yeah, Gomez,
I seem to have heard that Sheldon made a rather hurried departure from
Greater LA and is currently holed up on this satellite."
"Is he residing with his dear old mom?"
"I believe he is indeed in residence with that old yenta."
"Would that be at her place of business--Madame Sonja's
Longevity Lodge?"
"That's the place, sure. A very successful seam, so I hear," answered
the agent. "It's over on Rodeo Drive in a building that's shaped
pretty much like my Aunt Dorothy's backside."
Gomez told him, "What I need, Wolfe, is a safe and successful means of
getting in and out of there. Further, I want to know exactly where
Shel is located within the establishment." "That'll cost you $400
extra." "$200." "$350."
"$3O0."
"Okay. It's robbery, but what can [ do?" He raised his eyes to the
clear sunlit midday sky above. "I'll get you everything you need to
know by not later than supper time."
N Oe, OEt TO take his leave from the Poolside Lounge, Gomez had to walk
by a row of the private dining cabafias.
He was wending his way over the mosaic tiles, circling squat potted
palms, when he became aware of some kind of fracas taking place in one
of the small wooden buildings. Crockery smashed within, then something
hard slammed against one of the opaque windows.
Slowing, Gomez eyed the cabafia as he passed it.
Another piece of dishware smashed within. Then a young woman cried
out, "This, and I'm really very ashamed of you, ., isn't what I came
here for!
A man chuckled in a nasty way. A table fell over with a rattling
thunk.
Gomez stopped, looking at the red door.
None of the diners at the nearby tables were paying a bit of attention
to the noisy conflict.
Inside the cabafia the woman screamed.
Sighing, Gomez sprinted to the door and caught the handle.
He turned it, yanked the door open and went diving inside. Roger
Zangerly yawned twice as he hurried along the plastiglass connecting
tube that linked the Mechanix International storehouses in the Oxnard
Sector of Greater LA.
Outside, across a stretch of fenced beach, the dawn Pacific was choppy
and topped with grey froth. A few gulls were skimming low over the
water, the sound of their cries was kept out by the tube walls.
Roger yawned again, saying to himself, "I'm a damn idiot to risk nosing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]