Oblivion - Michael Jan Friedman [34]
The hotel manager still looked annoyed, but not quite as much as when he had spoken to Picard. “Didn’t you hear me?” he snapped. “I’m too busy.”
“I can see how busy you are,” said Guinan. “A lot busier than any of the other hoteliers we’ve spoken with. But then, they weren’t like you.”
That seemed to get the Zartani’s attention. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“They didn’t even know who was staying in their establishment. Can you imagine that?”
The Zartani made a sound of disdain. “I always know who’s in my hotel. I make it my business to know.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” said Guinan. “I knew you were a cut above the other hotel managers as soon as I walked in here.”
“You did?” the Zartani asked. It seemed to Picard that the fellow’s cynicism was starting to slip away.
Guinan smiled a cryptic smile. “Sure. But you must hear that all the time.”
“Uh…right,” said the Zartani, pushing a strand of white hair back from his bronze forehead. “Of course.” But it was clear from his tone that he didn’t hear it at all.
“I bet that’s the reason you’re so busy,” Guinan said. “And so successful. Because you don’t just put in the minimum effort. You go the extra mile.”
“I do,” the Zartani agreed, hanging on Guinan’s words as if they were drops of cool water in the midst of an otherwise parched desert.
“It’s the way you were brought up—to work harder than the next guy.”
The Zartani nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”
“That’s why I hate to bother you,” Guinan went on. “Your time is stretched so thin already. Besides,” she sighed, “with all the guests you have here, it’s probably hard to remember everyone’s comings and goings.”
“Not at all,” the manager returned.
Guinan looked surprised. “Oh?”
“In fact, I think I remember the man you’re talking about. Tall, thin, bony face…”
“That’s him,” said Picard.
But the Zartani wasn’t paying any attention to him. He was too enthralled with the captain’s companion.
“Was he here recently?” she asked.
“He arrived just yesterday,” said the hotel operator, “and checked out this morning.”
“Really,” said Guinan. “I don’t suppose he mentioned where he was headed?”
The Zartani shook his head. “Not as I recall. Why are you looking for him, anyway?”
Guinan leaned a little closer to him, and when she spoke her tone was a conspiratorial one. “Believe me,” she said, “you don’t want to know.”
Picard winced. Was that not the wrong thing to say to someone who prided himself on all he knew?
But to his surprise, the Zartani grinned and said, “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Wise man,” Guinan told him. “I’ll have to remember to send all my Zartani friends your way.”
“That would be appreciated,” said the Zartani.
With a parting smile, Guinan took the captain’s arm and steered him away. It was only after they were back in the airlock that she let out a sigh of relief.
“You handled that rather deftly,” he said.
His companion shrugged. “All I did was exercise a little patience…and listen.”
“Listen?” he echoed. “I’d say you did a bit more than that. You charmed the pants off him.”
“But I could only do that because I listened.” She glanced at him. “That’s how I was able to free you from that cell you were in—by listening.”
“To my guard, you mean.”
“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed a bit. “And that’s also how I know your name isn’t Hill.”
Picard felt the blood rush to his face, though it wouldn’t be visible under the purple cast of his skin. He was about to tell Guinan she was mistaken, that his name really was Hill. Then he decided against it.
After all, she had risked her life to get him out of the detention facility, and then risked her friend’s life to obtain a disguise for him. Maybe it was time he trusted her.
“You’re right,” he said. “My name is Picard. Jean-Luc Picard. I’m the captain of a ship called Stargazer.”
She looked interested, but not surprised. “Really.”
Then he told her about his mission, albeit in broad strokes. “So you see,” he said, “why it’s so urgent