The Draco Tavern - Larry Niven [69]
“I have specs for your local toilets. He could use those.”
Dammit. I disconnected. “Hass?”
“The puzzle is incomplete,” Hass said. “It’s as if she stopped when almost finished. Why would she do that?”
“Drew the rest of it elsewhere.” The ellipse of markings had a bite missing. “Fits here.” I looked hard at the oddly configured bowl that was the centerpiece of the cubicle. Detergent spray from here, warm air from here, two-stage flush, outlet underneath. It was in my mind that if I wanted to hide a puzzle from a human woman, I’d draw it on the bottom of a toilet seat ... but I couldn’t see anything analogous here.
The puzzle had me in thrall. I went outside. Piled snow allowed me to crawl onto the roof. The roof was covered with packed ice, and no patterns had been carved into it.
Hass wouldn’t carry a heater—no store-bought tools—but he might make a scraper to get through this ice sheet to reveal a message. “Hass? You’ve been telling me she wants to be caught. We’re not looking for anything terribly difficult. Hass?”
Nothing. I got off the roof and looked into the cubicle. The Pazensh was gone.
So the question was, Did I want to lead Hass to Tenshir? We weren’t looking for the same thing. Puzzle aside, it wasn’t my species’ problem. Further—despite the appearance that she’d left a message, it was still possible that Hass was a stalker.
What I wanted was to find the Joker. Whatever devilment Brill was planning on Earth, he’d played me for a fool last night.
He could use a men’s room, or a ladies’, but he couldn’t pass for human. Where could he hide, and still accomplish anything?
We sometimes use pressure suits for a cleanup. I went back in and put one on. Now a Joker couldn’t smell me. I went back to the appropriate toilet, hash mub delta, and set a tiny security camera.
He’d need food ... but the age of terrorism has not quite faded. There were already cameras in the Tavern’s food preparation area.
It couldn’t be this straightforward. Think of something else.
I hadn’t needed to call Shock Layer. All of my possible customers are in my registry before they ever reach the Tavern ... but Brill wasn’t supposed to have come here at all. Hmm? I used the translator to look him up, and there he was.
Physiologically and chemically, Brill was a tee tee arrowhead slant ool, which meant he’d have to carry supplements: pills or a needle. Otherwise he could get what he wanted at any market. Of course any market clerk would see him for an alien. He wouldn’t be too conspicuous if he stayed in the Mount Forel Spaceport area, unless someone called the cops. Me or any Chirpsithra officer. Could he risk that?
Aliens did often possess special, valuable knowledge. If Brill left the Mount Forel area, he might persuade someone that he had, say, the secret of immortality. Hell, it might be true: he might have got it from a Glig. So someone outside might hide him—
But what did he want with the Pazensh?
For the first time I wondered if Brill might have taken the Pazensh female. (For what?) And left Hass behind. (Why?) But if there were a scheme involving the Pazensh, he’d have to hang around. (Where?)
Actually—to a Joker, that might have an answer.
I stripped off my pressure suit behind the bar. “Rory? How’s it go?”
“Rick, the Wids want to try sparkers. Shall I? I thought sparkers were just for Chirpsithra.”
“Sure, and alcohol is just for humans, but a lot of aliens want to try liqueurs. I always, always check their registry.” I reset the translator. “There. Wids are ahn tee hatch nex zep. It won’t injure them.” They wouldn’t like it, though.
He took a couple of sparkers and went, and noticed I was following him. Under a sound suppressor I stopped him. “Rory, you weren’t in last night. There was a Joker name of Brill. It’s a fugitive.”
“Isn’t that up to the Chirps?”
“If I’m right, it’s our problem too. I’m going back to my room. If anything more goes wrong, call Shock Layer. This is what you tell them ...”
Rooms for the staff are roomy enough, and the communal complex includes a pool, some exercise equipment,