"Really? How could you forget the name of the man you hired to find your daughter?"
The smile faltered and his hand still hovered over the panic button.
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."
"The name's Dreyer. Sig Dreyer. And what shall I call you?
'Mr. Khambot' or 'Mr. Karmo?' "
"Mr. Karmo will do fine."
"Good. Let's talk, shall we, Mr. Karmo? I'm not here to cause you any trouble. You paid me well for my time so I've got no quarrel with you. But I am curious."
Finally, he dragged his hand away from the button and took the only other seat in the tiny compartment.
"I don't think you'll be too happy with what I have to tell you, Mr. Dreyer."
"Why not?"
"Because there isn't much."
"Let me decide that. You can start by telling me if you have a daughter."
He laughed but it didn't seem to relax him. "Oh, no! Of course not! That was just part of the story!"
"But why any story at all?"
"I really don't know. I'm an actor. I was hired to act." He shrugged expressively. "So I acted."
"Who hired you?"
"I don't know. He was wearing a holosuit."
"Isn't that just bloaty!" I said, getting annoyed and showing it.
Karmo cringed. "Sorry."
"What was the image?"
"Joey Jose."
Wanted to throw something. Had high hopes since tracking Karmo down, now they were going up in smoke. He'd been hired by a guy hiding inside the holographic image of the Megalops' most popular entertainer. The number one holosuit on the rental circuit. Every holodashery had twenty Joey Joses in stock. No way of tracing the mystery man through that!
"What about the voice? Any accent?"
Karmo cringed again. "He was using a Joey voicer."
A holosuit and a voicesizer. Whoever he was, he was taking great pains to cover his tracks.
"And he just came up to you and handed you that gold piece and said 'Go get find somebody to search for your imaginary urchin daughter' and you picked me out to — "
"Oh, no. He was very specific. It had to be Sigmundo Dreyer and nobody else."
"But I'd been out of business for years! I'd only opened up a couple of days before you showed up!"
Another shrug. "What can I say? Maybe he'd been waiting for you to reopen. All I know is that he gave me two goldies, told me to use one to hire you and keep the other for myself. If I was successful in getting you to take the job, there were two more coins in it for me." He smiled briefly. "Needless to say, for that kind of fee, I put on my best performance."
He shrank back as I stood up.
"That you did, my friend. That you did."
Would have liked to give the jog a dose of Truth but had a feeling I'd learn nothing new. Somebody pretty glossy was behind this: Left no trail, and dangled a pay schedule that not only kept Karmo from roguing off with the goldies, but insured he'd give the performance his all.
"No harm done, I hope," Karmo said.
Clapped him on the shoulder and he almost came apart.
"Nope. No harm at all. Just want to know what's behind it all. And you're no dregging help."
Left a very relieved and very sweaty actor behind in his compartment.
— 3-
"Eat your soyshi."
B.B. made a face. "Needs more cooking."
"No so. Supposed to be raw."
"Raw fishee?"
His repulsed expression was something to behold. All I could do to keep from laughing. He was pulling me out of the trough I'd slipped into since my talk with Karmo.
"Not real fish. Only looks that way. It's veg. Pseudotuna on vinegared rice. Watch." Finger-dipped one into the nearby soy-wasabi mix and popped it into my mouth. "Mmmm! Filamentous!"
B.B. grabbed his throat in a stranglehold and treated me to the sound of a melodramatic retch as he toppled off his chair.
The other customers in the dinnero were starting to stare.
"Get up before they kick you out of here!"
He returned to his seat. "H'bout soysteak?"
"Pardon?" I said, cupping my ear.
"How about a soysteak?" he said carefully.
"How about broadening your horizons? There's more to eating than soysteaks, cheesoids, and speed spuds."
"N'like this dreggy stuff."
"How would you know? You haven't tasted any. What kind of parent would I be if — "
"N'my parent!"
That stung more than I would have imagined. Don't even know why I'd referred to myself as his parent. Didn't want to be. Truly. But felt the jab anyway. The sting must have shown on my face, because he added: "Wendy parent to all Lost Boys."
Could have added that you're allowed more than one parent but that would have slipped me into a position I didn't particularly care for so I kept mum.
"Right. Forgot."
The black mood was settling on me again.
"You fren, Sig. Not parent."
"One way of looking at it, I guess. And friends don't make other friends eat soyshi, right?"
"Right."
Ordered him a soysteak with his habitual trimmings. Every time I took him out to eat he ordered the same dregging meal.
Urchins must have a high threshhold of boredom.
"Who is this Wendy, anyway?" I said as we waited for his meal.
"Mom-to-all."
"B.B…." I said tiredly.
"Know, yes, know, Sig. Not biomom, but real mom. Readee us, teachee us, fixee clothes an food. Do tuck-in a'night f'babes."
His eyes shone as he spoke. There was adoration there. Why did that irk me? What did I care about some crazy femme playing Mamma to some urches?
"What's she look like?""
"Byooful."
"Of course. Aren't all mothers? But give me some details. Her hair, for instance? Blond?"
He shook his head. "Brown straight."
"Fat? Thin?"
"Thin like us, course."
"Why 'course'? When she leaves you at night, she probably goes home to a big meal.
"Wendy live w'urches."
That gave me pause. Who in their right mind would want to live in the tunnels with a horde of kids, eating begged food and cooking rats?
"What's she get out of it?"
He beamed. "Family. Allus family."
"All?"
"Huh. Sh'go most gangs. Mom-to-all, but sh'come back Lost Boys most. We her firs famly."
"She never leaves the tunnels?"
"Sometime, but n'f'long. Always come back with special giftees."
Now I was really suspicious. This Wendy was either a true disequillibrated non-comp, verging on black holedom, or there was a roguey angle to this that I wasn't seeing. Either way, I wasn't comfortable having B.B. involved with her. Not until I knew more.
"Sounds like a wonderful person," I said. "When can I meet this Wendy?"
He started as if he'd just received a shock.
"Meetee? Oh, no. None upside ev meetee Wendy. Sh'say n'ever jaw 'bout her to any not urch."
"You told me."
"You friend f'life, Sig. Trust."
"Yeah. Well, see if you can arrange it. It's very important to me to meet such a unique person."
"I ask, b'tell now, sh'nev say 'kay."
The food arrived then and no further conversation was possible. You can't talk to B.B. when he's got a meal in front of him. You can barely watch him.
— 4-
Two days later, sitting in my office, got treated to the pleasure of another visit from my favorite procurer and clone slaver, Ned Spinner.
"What do you want, Spinner?" I said as he stood in front of my desk, staring at me.
His hair was in his usual curly blond Caesar cut and he was dressed in the same dark green pseudovelvet jump he always wore.
As he spoke in his nasal whine, he began strutting back and forth, doing his oversized rooster routine.