When he finally found the casino’s main entrance, Bracknell saw that the entire Hell Crater complex of casinos, hotels, restaurants, and shops was built inside one massive dome. Like Selene, the complex’s living quarters and offices were tunneled underground. Bracknell studied a map display, then headed on foot to the rejuvenation clinic of Takeo Koga. It was one of six such clinics in the complex.
Down two levels and then a ten-minute walk along the softly lit, thickly carpeted corridor to Koga’s clinic. It was blessedly quiet down here, and there were only a few other people in sight. No one paid attention to Bracknell, for which he was thankful. It meant that there was no alarm yet from the hospital about his absence.
The sign on the door was tastefully small, yet Bracknell found it almost ludicrously boastfuclass="underline" ideal renewal center. koga takeo, M.D., D.C.S.
Hoping he didn’t look too disreputable, Bracknell opened the door and stepped into the small waiting room. Two brittle-looking women sitting in comfortable armchairs looked up at him briefly, then turned their attention back to the screen on the far wall, which was showing some sort of documentary about wild animals. Silky music purred from hidden speakers. There were two empty armchairs and a low table with another screen built into its surface. The table’s screen glowed softly.
Bracknell went to the table and bent over it slightly.
“Welcome to Ideal Renewal Center,” said a woman’s pleasant voice. “How may I help you?”
“I need to see Dr. Koga.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“This is about his brother, Toshikazu,” Bracknell replied.
A moment’s hesitation, then a different voice said, “Please take a seat. Someone will be with you in a moment.”
K0GA CLINIC
A young Asian woman opened the door on the far end of the waiting room and crooked a finger at Bracknell. Wordlessly she led him to a small examination room, gestured to the chair next to the examination table, and softly closed the door behind her as she left.
Bracknell suddenly felt uncomfortable. What if they’re calling security? But no, how would they know who I am? Still, he felt trapped in this tiny, utterly quiet room.
He stood up and reached for the door just as it swung open and a stocky, grim-faced Asian stepped in. He looked young, but his handsome face did not seem to go with his chunky build. His cheekbones were sculptured, his jawline firm, his throat slim and unlined. He wore a trim, dark moustache, and his hair was cut short and combed straight back off his forehead.
“I am Toshikazu’s brother, Takeo,” he said as he firmly closed the door behind him. Takeo looked suspicious, almost angry. He took in Bracknell’s unimpressive coveralls and paper shoes at a glance. He must be a good diagnostician, Bracknell thought.
“Well, what’s he done now?”
Bracknell took in a breath, then said, “I’m afraid he’s dead.”
Takeo’s eyes widened. He tottered to the examination couch and sagged against it. “Dead? How did it happen?”
“He died in an explosion aboard the freighter Alhambra. He was a convict, being shipped out to the Belt.”
“They finally got him, then.”
“You know about it,” Bracknell said.
Rubbing at his eyes, Takeo replied, “Only that he was running from something, someone. He was frightened for his life. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about; he said then I’d be marked for murder, too.”
Bracknell sat in the chair in the corner. “Did he ever mention Yamagata to you?”
“No,” Takeo answered, so sharply that Bracknell knew it was a lie. “He never told me anything about why he was being pursued. I only knew that he was in desperate trouble. I changed his appearance, his whole identity, twice.”
“And they still found him.”
“Poor Toshi.” Takeo’s chin sank to his chest.
“He told me about your ability to change people’s identities,” said Bracknell.
Takeo’s head snapped up. He glared at Bracknell.
“I need my identity changed.”
“You said Toshi was a convict? You’re one also, eh?”
Bracknell almost smiled. “The less you know, the safer you are.”
Shaking his head, Takeo said, “I helped my brother because he’s my brother. I’m not going to stick my neck out for you.”
“You’ve helped other people who wanted to start new lives. Toshikazu told me about your work.”
“Those people could afford my fees. Can you?”
With a rueful grin, Bracknell admitted, “I don’t have a penny.”
“Then why should I help you?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll tell you your brother’s whole story. Who was after him, and why. Then you’ll know, and then I’ll let Yamagata’s people know that you know. The people who killed him will come here to kill you.”
Takeo was silent for several long moments. He stared into Bracknell’s eyes, obviously trying to calculate just how desperate or determined this stranger was.
At last he said, “You want a complete makeover, then?”
“I want to become a certain individual, a man named Dante Alexios.”
“I presume this Alexios is dead. It would be embarrassing if he showed up after you claim his identity.”
“He died in the same explosion your brother did.”
Takeo nodded. “I’ll need his complete medical records.”
“They should be available from the International Astronautical Authority. They keep duplicates of all ship’s crews.”
“And they keep those records private.”
“You’ve done this sort of thing before,” said Bracknell.
“For people who provided me with what I needed.”
“You’re a doctor. Tell the IAA you’ve got to identify a body for United Life and Accident Assurance, Limited. They carried the policy for Alhambra.”
Takeo said, “I don’t like getting involved in this.”
“You’ve done worse, from what Toshikazu told me. Besides, you don’t have much of a choice.”
“You’re blackmailing me!”
Bracknell sighed theatrically. “I’m afraid I am.”
The makeover took weeks, and it wasn’t anything like what Bracknell had expected. Takeo obtained Alexios’s medical files from the IAA easily enough; a little money was transferred electronically and he received the dead man’s body scans in less than a day. Then began the hard, painful work.
Takeo kept Bracknell in one of the small but luxuriously appointed suites behind his medical offices. For the first ten days he didn’t see Takeo, except through the intercom phone. Bracknell grew increasingly impatient, increasingly fearful. Any moment he expected security guards to burst into the little suite and drag him back to a ship headed outward to the Belt.
He paced the suite: sitting room, bedroom, a closet-sized kitchen in which he prepared bland microwaved meals from the fully stocked pantry. No liquor, no drugs, no visitors. His only entertainment was video, and he constantly scanned the news nets from Selene and Earth for any hint that he was being hunted. Nothing. He wanted to phone the Selene hospital to see what their files showed about him, but found that he could not place outgoing calls. He was a prisoner again. His jail cell was comfortable, even plush, but still he felt penned in.
When he complained to Takeo, the physician’s artificially handsome image on the phone screen smiled at him. “You’re free to leave whenever you want.”
“You haven’t even started my treatment yet!”