The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [182]
When they reached Denver International Airport, they found the place crawling with Duratek agents. However, to Deirdre's relief, they breezed through Customs and were approved for entry into Denver. Her fear Vani or Beltan would be recognized was groundless. Whoever her secret helper was, he knew what he was doing; their fake IDs received less scrutiny than the genuine versions carried by actual citizens of Denver.
They showed their approval papers to a security guard—a patch with the crescent moon of the Duratek logo was sewn to his uniform—and he allowed them to get in line for a taxi. Minutes later they sped along the highway as the skyscrapers of downtown Denver grew larger, rising up against the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains.
Beltan started to speak in the cab, but Deirdre shook her head, eyeing the driver's radio. There was no telling who might be listening. They rode the remaining half hour to downtown in silence, then got out when the cab stopped in front of the Brown Palace Hotel. Her mysterious benefactor may have been reluctant to reveal his identity, but at least he had the decency to arrange for first-class accommodations.
Whether it was chance, design, or merely irony, they ended up in the same suite she had shared with Hadrian Farr last fall. There was a central living area with a fireplace and bar, and two separate bedrooms.
“Well, we're here,” Anders said, tossing down his bag on the sofa. “Now what?”
Deirdre eyed the door of one of the bedrooms. Her back ached from all those hours on the plane. She longed to take a hot bath, then lie down and sleep.
She sighed. “Now we get to work.”
They began the search that afternoon. A rental car was waiting for them at the hotel. Anders and Vani took the car to do some reconnaissance of the city, while Deirdre and Beltan headed out to cover downtown on foot. While Deirdre didn't like the idea of splitting up, this way they could cover more ground. Besides, two people asking questions were less likely to draw notice than a group of four.
“So how are we going to find him?” Beltan said as he and Deirdre walked down Sixteenth Street. His expression was hopeful, expectant.
She shoved her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. She should have brought a warmer coat; despite the blue sky and sun, it was cold.
“I have no bloody idea.”
Beltan stopped and stared at her. “That's supposed to be funny, right? Like when the anvil fell on the dog's head?”
“Coyote,” Deirdre said. “Wile E. is a coyote. And no, it's not supposed to be funny. I honestly don't know how we're going to find Travis. The Seekers are good for lots of things. We can whip up false IDs and arrange for planes and cars, but it's not like we have an otherworldly traveler homing device.”
He let out a groan. “Great. So we're just going to wander around and hope we happen to run into him?”
Deirdre shrugged and gave him a weak smile. “Well, at least it's a plan.”
Beltan let out a snort. “And people think I'm stupid.”
“Do they really?”
“Not anymore, I suppose. And I can't say I'm all that happy about it. Now people expect me to come up with good ideas all the time.”
Deirdre hunched inside her jacket. “I know. It's a bloody pain, isn't it? But contrary to what people think, the Seekers don't have all the answers. Not even close.”
It was five o'clock, and the sidewalk was filled with people leaving work, getting into cars, catching buses and trains, going home. But Deirdre knew their own work had just begun.
“It's so big,” Beltan said, gazing around, awe on his face. “This city is even bigger than Tarras, and that's the biggest city in the world. In my world, anyway. I don't know how we'll ever find Travis.”
Neither did Deirdre. All the same, a sudden confidence filled her. “We will, Beltan. We'll find him for you.”
He looked away. “Not just for me. For Vani, too.”
What did that mean?