Inherit the Earth - Brian Stableford [18]
“Thanks,” he said reflexively. He didn’t give her time to say “You’re welcome,” although she probably wouldn’t have bothered.
When he’d slipped off the hood, Damon devoted a few moments to wondering who might want to make a joke at his expense, and why. Diana hadn’t had time to set it up, and it wasn’t her style—although she certainly knew enough amateur saboteurs capable of crashing Building Security. Madoc Tamlin knew many more, and he was one of the few people to whom he’d confided his original surname and his reasons for changing it, but Madoc wouldn’t stoop so low.
Eventually, he came around full circle. What if it weren’t a joke? Interpol seemed to be taking it seriously enough, even though they didn’t think it was authentic Eliminator action—and something had happened to Silas Arnett.
He wondered whether he ought to tell the police about the note. He had no particular reason to conceal it, although its sender presumably intended it for his eyes only. He decided to keep his options open, at least for the time being, and tackle the matter himself. That had always been his natural inclination—an inclination which, if it was hereditary, had very probably been gifted to him by his long-dead father. He put the envelope in a drawer and the note into the inside pocket of his suitskin. Then he went to get something to eat.
Just as Damon finished his meal the alarm he’d set to notify him of any response to his various calls began beeping. He ducked under the phone hood and displaced his AI answering machine, which was in the middle of telling Madoc Tamlin that he was on his way. The VE which surrounded them was a lush forest scene whose colorful birds and butterflies were the product of a spontaneous ecology rather than a simple tape loop; it was unnecessarily elaborate but it served as an ad for his VE engineering skills.
“Is this about Diana?” Madoc said—which at least solved the minor mystery of where Diana had gone after storming out of Damon’s life. It made sense; she had known Tamlin a good deal longer than she had known Damon, and she was on no better terms with her foster parents than Damon was with his.
“No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s business. Have you heard anything about a kidnap up the coast?”
Madoc raised a quizzical eyebrow. His eyebrows were as black as his hair and as neatly shaped; they made an interesting contrast with his pale eyes, which had been tinted a remarkably delicate shade of green. “Haven’t seen the news,” he said. “Anyone you know?”
“My foster father. There may be an Eliminator connection.”
The quizzical expression disappeared. “Not good,” Madoc said—then waited, expecting more.
“I’ve got a proposition that might interest you,” Damon said carefully.
“Yeah?” Madoc knew better than to ask for details over the phone. “Well, I won’t be back at the apartment for quite a while, and that might not be a good place, all things considered. You can find me in the alley where we shot your second-to-last fight. You remember where that is, I suppose?”
“I remember,” Damon assured him drily. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half, traffic permitting.”
“No traffic here,” Madoc drawled. “You should never have moved so close to the coast, Damie. World’s still overcrowded, thanks to you-know-who. Too many people, too many cars, wherever the real estate is in good condition. It’ll be a long time before the gantzers get to this neighborhood.”
“Don’t bet on that,” Damon said. “The new generation can turn rubble back into walls with no significant effort at all. Around here you’d never know there was ever an earthquake, let alone two plague wars.”
“Around the alley,” Madoc riposted, “we don’t forget so easily. We’re conservationists, remember? Preserving the legacy of the plague wars and the great quakes, keeping alive all the old traditions.”
“I’m on my way,” Damon said shortly. He wasn’t in the mood for banter.
Tamlin laughed, and might have said more, but Damon cut him off and the forest faded into darkness, leaving nothing visible