Jay Caselberg, page 6
Talbot nodded. The sweat smell was joined by the hint of ozone.
“Where are we?” asked Jack.
Talbot shrugged. “I wish I knew. You wish you knew.”
But Jack did know.
Sometimes dream statements weren’t quite what you expected, but Jack just accepted it for what it was.
“Who killed you?” he asked.
Talbot frowned, puzzling over the question. “Am I dead?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
Talbot’s eyes widened. The buzz had grown louder, pounding in Jack’s ears.
A bright flash lit the landscape, a sizzling rush, and then the buzzing was suddenly gone. The sharp smell of burning filled the air. Talbot still stood in front of him, but half his face had been burned away, and one arm was gone, leaving just a blackened stump. His remaining eye was still wide.
“See wha’ you done,” he said with what remained of his mouth.
“I’ve done?” said Jack. “That wasn’t my fault. I’m not responsible.”
Wait! He’d dreamed this dream before. He was simply replaying an earlier dream sequence from an earlier case. That didn’t make sense. Talbot had nothing to do with what was going on now.
“Stop!” he shouted.
He looked down at his hand, but it was empty. He closed it and opened it again, willing the stone shard back. When he opened his hand this time, it was there. He channeled his attention down, staring at the
rock chip, focusing his concentration. Then he willed his thoughts to Billie. Billie was closest to what he needed. Billie, he thought, calling to her in the void.
But when he looked up, the landscape was the same. Talbot still stood there looking at him out of his half-ruined face.
“Yack Stein,” said Talbot.
Jack tried to look away, past the blasted features, trying to determine where they were. Above him lay a broad ceiling. No, it wasn’t a ceiling. It was farther away than that, far, far above. It was… it was sky, but dark, leaden gray. That was all he could see. They were standing on nothing, floating. Quick traceries of light shot back and forth below them. Jack tried to look everywhere but at the face that was speaking to him.
“You… haf… to go.”
“What is it, Carl? Where do I have to go?” Talbot tried to wave his arm. His remaining eye looked surprised. He gestured with the other, good arm. The sky disappeared. The lights in the darkness disappeared. Blankness remained. They floated in nothing. Jack peered into the nothingness, trying to work out what he was supposed to be seeing. There, over Talbot’s maimed shoulder, something was forming, far away now. Jack concentrated. Quad shapes. Quad shapes like four thick, stocky legs, joined to a central spire that reached up into the sky.
” ‘Ere!” said Talbot emphatically. “You haf to go.” “Why do I have to go there, Carl? Tell me.” Talbot drifted into vaporous wisps and blew away, saying nothing more. Jack was left with the structural image in front of him. He stared at it, imprinting it deeply. Then he was somewhere else. He was standing on a plain. Silver shapes flashed above his head, almost too fast to follow. One zipped silently past, whipping his head back as he tried to track it.
He turned to track it into the distance. Something was standing behind him. It was tall, four legs, spaced evenly around a thick central body. It seemed smooth, featureless, shining slightly with a silvery slickness. At first he thought it was some sort of sculpture, the same sort of structure as the other things he’d seen, but on a smaller scale. And then it moved. Jack took a step back. Again, one of the four legs swung forward, repositioning the body. The top of the thick central shaft tilted forward. The whole thing looked ponderous, awkward. About halfway up the shaft something slowly bulged, then
separated. A section folded down and then another. Behind one of the sections, there was a hollow. Jack shook his head. This was just weird, and the weirdness was working in his chest, making his heart pound faster. There was something in the hollow. Despite the fear starting to rise within him, he looked closer. There was a shape in there, something flat, rectangular. He recognized that shape. It was the artifact.
The sections that had folded down swung back up, and the hollow was concealed once more. The
bulging torus slowly merged back into the shaft, and then the thing was gone.
Jack swallowed back his frustration.
“No, dammit!” he shouted at the empty plain. This was the same dream. The same dream over again.
Almost instant by instant, scene by scene, he had dreamed this very same dream over two years ago.
He was alone on the plain, and then he wasn’t. Talbot was back.
“What do you want?” said Jack.
Talbot winked with his one remaining eye. “We know you are ‘ere, Yack,” he said.
And Jack was awake.
Chapter Six
Jack had been expecting more. Something else. Something different. He knew there was no point trying to go back into dreamstate, though. He sat up and checked the time display. An hour. Nothing he could use there, at least not that he could see yet. He just couldn’t work out why Talbot kept reappearing. The dead guy had been a clue in the earlier case, but how could he be a clue now? It made no sense, unless it was because the dream back then had been linked to the aliens. Both of them had the strange quad alien beings, and both had Talbot. Those last dreams had been more about Talbot himself, but now it was about the aliens. Maybe that was the link. Anyway, it appeared he’d have to use his other avenues of investigation, and meanwhile, time was ticking past and he was no closer to finding out what had happened to Billie.
He dressed, then reached for the map that the woman had given him. Sitting at the small glass table, he spread it out, then flipped through it, peering one by one at the misshapen colored ovals representing the various levels, knowing that really it was a pretty pointless exercise. He knew nothing about Balance City and the way things worked here. Maybe this place had some sort of life going on
somewhere, but damned if he’d seen any sign of it yet. Heering had been pretty pointed in his direction, though. He folded the map away with a frustrated sigh, grabbed his coat, and, after shrugging it on, shoved the map into an inside pocket. That was one thing he’d learned over the years: You didn’t wander the streets of a strange city with a map on full display, even the handipad variety. It screamed victim. And as it was, he stood out without even trying. Not that he had any intention of purchasing any of the rainbow outfits that would let him fade into the crowd.
He patted his pockets, more out of habit than anything else, but apart from his handipad and the map, there was nothing to check. All it did was remind him of another thing he was missing—a weapon.
Where the hell was he going to find a gun? You never knew when you might need that little added bit of security, especially in Jack’s line of work. Dammit, Stein. Preparation. He should have learned that by now. He was right not bringing one with him, with the security he’d seen on the way in, but at least he should have searched for where he might be able to find one.
Checking his room, and then making sure the door was firmly locked, he headed back down to the lobby to have a word with the concierge. That should at least give him a steer in the right direction.
Hotel staff were supposed to know things.
A woman he hadn’t seen before stood behind the desk. Dark hair was tied back in a severe bun, and high cheekbones accented slightly almond, dark eyes. The hospitality smile flashed into place as he approached. When he dug the map out of his pocket and spread it flat in front of her, the smile rapidly slipped away.
“Maybe you can help me,” he said, flipping over a couple of the map leaves.
“I will try,” she responded in a flat voice. “Of course…” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Okay,” said Jack, meeting her blank expression and prepared to play out the charade. “This map is pretty good, but it doesn’t give me a lot of information. If you could give me any pointers about areas that I should really avoid, I’d appreciate it.”
There was the barest pursing of her lips and a narrowing of the eyes. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’m a foreigner here. I don’t really know the city. I would guess you might be local.” It wasn’t a given, especially not in a hotel, but she had the look and the attitude. “Every city has areas that you might want to stay out of at night. Right? Even in the daytime. I just want a couple of pointers. Could you do that for me?”
She barely restrained a sigh, then gave a reluctant nod. She leaned forward and turned over two of the map leaves, looking at them and moving them back and forth, then laid one of them flat. With one finger she traced a line around the edge of the purple-hued oval on that page. The level—Jack guessed it was about four down—was uniformly shaded, except for a squarish green projection at one edge, not too far from where her finger now pointed.
“This level, Algol,” she said, briefly pointing to the name at the top before returning to trace the western edge again, “is not so nice. Here, especially, I would advise care. In fact, you’d be better off not going there at all, particularly alone.”
“I see,” said Jack.
“Not advisable at all,” she said with a brief nod, as if confirming it to herself.
Jack gave a half smile. So that was likely to be one of his first stops.
“Okay,” he said. “Anywhere else?”
“Well…” She turned another couple of leaves. The page now showing was a mosaic of regular pink and light blue squares. Their oval was quite a lot smaller than many of the others. “This area, Carlton, is…”
Here she paused. “Where some of the… local politicians, and others, make their homes.” Again the pause. “They tend to like their privacy and security.”
“Security?” Jack picked on the word, feigning innocence. You generally didn’t need security unless you had something to be secured against.
“It’s just,” she said, moistening her lower lip, “they don’t exactly welcome visitors.”
“Hmmmm.” Jack tucked the information away. “All right. One more question and then I’ll leave you alone. Do people hunt here?”
“Yes, of course,” she responded.
Jack nodded. Lots of forest, a certain type of population. It was the classic environment for hunters. He had thought they might. “So,” he said. “Where might I buy some hunting equipment?”
Her expression lightened a shade, and for a moment her gaze flickered across his face and body, as if she were reassessing. She gave the briefest nod, then turned her attention back to the map, flipping back to one of the higher levels. “Here,” she said, taking a pen and circling a yellow area. “This is a shopping district. You will probably find what you are looking for here. But, really, if you wish, we could arrange something for you. Perhaps you’d like to engage the services of a hunting guide?”
“No, that’s fine,” said Jack, reaching for the map and folding it away, back into his inner pocket. “I prefer to do these things myself. You’ve been most helpful. Thank you.”
And she had, but perhaps in ways she didn’t expect.
“Let us know if we can be of any further assistance, Mr. Stein,” she said.
Oh, that was good. She knew exactly who he was. He might have guessed they were keeping tabs on him. How much exactly did they know? Somehow the idea didn’t exactly make him feel comfortable.
More than half a dozen separate spots gave access to the city below, each marked on the map with a clear red circle. Jack had already decided that he’d try the area on the westernmost side first, if only to get a feel for the place and work out if there was any chance of finding what he needed. Equipping himself properly could come later, if he absolutely felt the need for some hardware. A quick glance at his map of the upper level gave him a clear idea of which way he should be heading. It didn’t seem to be too far from the place he’d first emerged from the port and into the glass-and-steel sterility of
Balance City.
As he left the hotel’s front doors, his senses tingled with the old familiar feeling of being watched.
Someone was observing him. Perhaps it was just the concierge, perhaps it was only the hotel’s own surveillance equipment, but the sensation was clearly there. He was suddenly struck with the
knowledge that right now it would be a bad move to let anyone know that he knew.
By the time he reached the shuttle stop, the feeling was gone, but the unease wasn’t, and he stayed vigilant, using the old tricks to keep a watchful eye: the casual glance, the use of his peripheral vision, even that feeling of certainty that grew in his gut and reached out to the world around him. Partly from stakeouts, partly from the old intelligence and counterintelligence days, when it was wise to make sure the watcher wasn’t the watched as well, the habits were almost autonomic. For now, though, he seemed to be in the clear. It did prompt another thought. He looked up and around at the surrounding buildings.
Their clean, hard surfaces were unblemished, no protrusions, nothing that didn’t look purely functional.
He did wonder, however, if somewhere in Balance City there was not a group of observers watching the comings and goings of its populace, keeping tabs and storing it all away in neatly filed archives ready to be recalled at a moment’s notice.
The expected shuttle cruised to a halt, and Jack climbed aboard, squeezing between a packed group of colorful locals, each of whom studiously avoided eye contact. Grabbing a handrail, he simply avoided them back, though he was slightly amused to catch one or two of them giving him the full head-to-toe when they thought that he wasn’t looking. Okay, so he wasn’t one of them. They could live with it. With a slight snort to himself, he turned his attention to the passing streets, keeping an eye out for where he was supposed to alight. With Balance City’s complete lack of useful signage in the city proper, he needed to keep alert.
He shouldn’t have worried. The shuttle pulled to a stop right in front of a small open space that proved to be just what he wanted. If it had had any vegetation, it might just have been a park, but it was bare, empty, apart from one obvious feature. No words, nothing but a big blue sign bearing one thing—a big white arrow pointing down. This way lies madness, he thought, then shook his head. Where the hell had that come from? He squeezed past a couple of his fellow passengers and stepped down, waiting for the shuttle’s doors to close before turning and entering the square.
A boxed glass structure similar to the one he’d stepped out of when he’d first arrived stood to one side of the sign, and on the other side was what looked like a staircase, descending into darkness.
Jack pulled out the map, flipping through the leaves, checking. He needed to descend a full four levels to get to Algol. He guessed the stairs were practical. The elevator could hold only so many people, maybe ten, twelve people max, and if they had a rush… But if they thought he was going to walk down that many flights of stairs, they had another think coming. Not Jack Stein. He wandered over to the top of the metal staircase, frowning a little at the number of steps, the metal walls and ceiling descending into gloom. Even from here, he could feel a vague breeze blowing up from the levels below, touched with the scent of machinery and damp. He took two more steps, and as he neared, a pink light flashed on at either side of the entrance. One by one, banks of lights sprang into life, sending a wave of illumination down the runnel as far as he could see, and the whir of machinery throbbed beneath his feet. The damned thing was an escalator! Only then did he notice the hooded structure paired to this one and facing the opposite direction. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. He had to give the Utrechtians grudging credit for their engineering, at least.
Jack was torn now. He could take the elevator all the way down to Algol, or simply ride the escalators level by level, stopping briefly at each stage to get a feel for the districts that populated the spaces below. He had no idea how far down it might be, but the escalator was moving at a fair clip. The idea was tempting; everything he’d seen of Balance City so far had been surface level, in more ways than
one. In the end, though, he decided he’d better take the elevator. He wasn’t here for sightseeing, and the longer he delayed, the greater the chance something might happen to Billie in the meantime, if something hadn’t happened to her already. As he walked toward the elevator booth, behind him the machinery subsided into silence, leaving him with the chill sound of his own last thought echoing in his head.
It didn’t take long for the car to arrive. He stepped inside, giving one last check to see if there was anyone else around. The doors slid soundlessly shut, the barest lurch, and he was whisked rapidly down to the level below. The glass walls had shown him it was no farther, giving him a clear view of building walls and the approaching street that rose up to meet him. There were no controls, just a single stop at the bottom. He stepped out, wondering if there was an express version somewhere that took you all the way from top to bottom, bypassing the intervening districts. Jack took stock for a second. Another booth stood right next to the one from which he had just emerged, but this one had a small blue and white arrow above it, pointing down.
Far above, about 150 feet by his reckoning, was a lumpy, dark ceiling, covered with pipes and conduits.
A narrow street stretched to the left, blocky, dark buildings extending all the way from ceiling to floor and lost in the maze of service channels above. The perfectly straight roadway led off into a dark blur at the end, illuminated by harsh orange lighting, fading into oneness in the distance. At the end, Jack guessed, lay the spire’s walls. The other direction was similar, but off in the distance Jack caught the hint of what he presumed was daylight. In that direction, the buildings seemed also to become paler as they neared the source of the light, but that could have just been a trick of the eye. The air itself tasted oiled, and the hint of ozone prompted a brief, unwelcome flash of the Talbot dream in Jack’s head. He was uneasy enough as it was without that particular memory.
A green-and-orange-garbed local chose that moment to walk past, looked at him curiously, then
