I winked at her. "Val, every date with me is special. And the answer is no, I'm not handing her some gold-bound ice. We're having dinner with her great-aunt from St. Louis." I wanted to toss another wisecrack out at her, but the well was dry. Thinking about Lynn and me and the future required so much brainpower that it didn't leave me enough idle cells to keep coming up with smart remarks.
Val gave me a hug and told me to transfer it to Lynn, noting, "You're on your own after that, jack." I gave her a peck on the cheek and specifically told hernot to pass that to Jimmy Mackelroy from me, then headed out into the garage. I disarmed the Fenris from outside its effective range, then took it roaring out into the Seattle night.
The rain had vanished and the dark sky looked clear and a tad crisp. I found the Pacific Northwest Hunting Club on the first try and parked down the block. Two chirps from the remote left it on With Extreme Prejudice, which would be more than enough to keep the local footsponges from mistaking it for a bar, bathroom, or king-size bed.
I managed to wrestle the double-breasted jacket's internal button into its hole by the time I reached the awning extending out over the sidewalk. A doorman waited at the top of the stone steps and opened the door for me without comment. Up another flight of steps and a left turn brought me to the club's foyer, where a large man greeted me with a smile. "Yes, sir?"
"Evening. I'm Wynn Archer. I'm supposed to be dining with Selene Reece." I nervously glanced at my watch. "I'm early."
Dark clouds of confusion spread over the man's face. "Ms. Reece has no dinner reservation tonight, sir. Perhaps you are confused as to the evening?"
I shook my head and let my smile tell him I knew I was right. "Wednesday the twenty-seventh. I've been looking forward to this for two weeks."
He held up a hand. "Just a moment." He disappeared behind a curtain and I heard the clicker-clack of a keyboard. I knew Valerie had managed to mess up his records when the sound of key-pounding got louder.
He returned with a smile on his face. "There has been a mistake, sir. Ms. Reece apparently did have reservations, but they were canceled when she went out of town on an urgent trip."
"Are you sure? Perhaps I should wait in the lounge until we see if she makes it. I'm sure you understand that she would have canceled with me if she didn't expect to be here."
The host started to tell me the lounge was only for members, but I stuck him on the horns of a dilemma. If he gave me the bum's rush, he could end up embarrassing a member because her plans didn't happen to include informing him of her comings and goings. He took a look at me and must have decided I looked harmless.
"Please, sir, we would be happy if you would wait in the lounge. You do understand, of course, that it is for members only, so…"
I nodded. "I shall wait at the bar and not bother anyone."
His smile told me we had an understanding and I wandered into the bar. Dim and subdued, it featured dark wood panels and rich leather upholstery. Given the identities of the few local celebs I recognized, I figured the club must charge enough in dues that the decorations were probably realthetic. Even the peanuts in the bowl at the bar looked like dirtfruit instead of vat-droppings.
I ordered the house brew, and discovered that a mug of it set me back more than Stealth's cab ride. It tasted pretty good, but notthat good. I consoled myself by looking at what the others were drinking and guessing at the number of digits in their bar tabs.
I ordered a refill from the bartender and tried to begin a conversation with him, but he sped off to deal with other patrons-the ones who looked like big tippers or like they were there with someone else's spouse. Before he could return to the styx where I was sitting, someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Mr. Archer? I understand we're having dinner together this evening?"
I turned around and found myself looking up at a woman who surprised me in many ways. Had I been standing she would have come within a centimeter of being as tall as me. Powerful shoulders tapered down to a slender waist and shapely legs that indicated a serious interest in athletics as opposed to milder "shaping" workouts. Her face showed signs of an arctic tan and the makeup she used carefully blended away the white flesh around her brown eyes. Her black hair, which was cut boyishly short, hid her ears and aptly bordered a sharply angular face. A pert nose and full lips made her beautiful by anyone's definition, but the fire in her eyes made herchallenging.
I offered her my hand. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Reece." I figured I could go one of two ways at this point, either making her think we both had been deceived, or I could play it straight. As she took my hand in a firm, dry grip, I decided honesty was the best policy. "But I'm not Wynn Archer. My name's Wolfgang Kies." I gestured to the empty stood beside me. "Please, join me. I can explain the reason for my deception."
She watched me for a moment, reflexively squinting her left eye as if she were sighting down a rifle barrel at me. "I like someone willing to shift tactics when the opening gambit fails. You have five minutes." She released my hand after she slid onto the stool across from me and ordered a gimlet from the bartender.
I remained silent until he had withdrawn, then idly drew an A in the moisture ring on the bar. "A young man you recommended for work here was killed last night."
"The albino, Albion. I heard." She sipped her drink, then set it back on the bar. "I learned about it early this morning when I checked my computer system. I returned from the Yukon immediately. While updating my schedule I saw the dinner notation and came right over. Do you know who killed him?"
I shook my head. "No, but I knew Albion and I know people who will be sorry he died. I want to find out who did him and you're about the only lead I have."
"I see." She dipped a finger in her drink and raised it toward her mouth. A droplet hung from her nail like venom from a scorpion's sting, then she licked it off with a flick of her tongue. "Albion repaired the stereo in my Mako and asked me to mention him to my friends. I did and a couple suggested I get him a job here."
"I guess I'm missing the connection." I popped a peanut into my mouth. "Why would you want a mo-hawked street punk working here?"
Selene crossed her legs. Her outfit, a dark green silk blouse under dark green blazer and tight black skirt, left a lot of leg for me to look at as she did so. "This Club is for individuals who are adventurers. We dare go out and challenge Mother Nature in her wondrous and magical splendor."
She pointed through the doorway back toward where a gallery of holopics showed images of members with creatures they had killed. "The membership thrives on traveling to exotic places, seeing exotic things…"
"And killing them?"
"Among other things." She half-shut her eyes and studied me over the edge of her glass. "We're thrill-seekers."
"So bringing a piece of Seattle streetlife into your club is a thrill."
"You are edging toward asking if I think Albion was chosen as prey by a member of our group." She toyed with the stem of her glass, slowly turning it so the light glowed off the liquor's legs. "We live for danger."
I watched her face closely. "And stalking Albion through the concrete world that is his natural habitat wouldn't be dangerous?"
"We may be the ultimate predators, but we're not murderers. Bringing someone like Albion in here is importing some of the danger from the streets, yes. He's not what we normally expect to see here, so he was a curiosity." She clasped her hands together over one knee. "For a while we maintained a cheetah and a Bengal tiger here before certain Creature Liberationists started to threaten us."