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The colonel gave a little shrug and shook his head. "I wouldn't even want to guess."
"Nothing come in yet about possible residents near Aegis Mountain?"
"No—and if it hasn't come through by now it's not going to until the day shift comes back on.
Research must have higher-priority work to do at the moment."
Galway nodded. "I suppose I might as well pack it in for the night, then."
"Good idea. I hope you have better dreams than the rest of us do."
Poirot stood up and moved off, and after a few moments Galway levered himself out of his chair.
There really wasn't anything else he could do at the moment. And with Caine's trip to analyze tomorrow, to say nothing of studying whatever was available on the mysterious ship out there, the morning's work was already promising to be hectic.
He paused at the door, an odd thought pricking at his mind. Possible misdirection regarding Aegis, the efficient action against the Security forces, a seemingly accidental encounter that had just happened to dump the marked car—the whole thing was starting to feel familiar. Uncomfortably familiar, in fact.
But that sort of thing was Lathe's trademark. And Lathe wasn't here this time. Couldn't possibly be here.
On the other hand, it wouldn't hurt to take a few hours in the morning and sift through the intelligence files for the past few days. Just to see if anyone had spotted any new strangers in the city... and had lived to report it.
Chapter 12
The Shandygaff Bar turned out to be a large, elegant-looking place smack in the middle of a pedestrian mall near the center of Denver. On the face of it that shouldn't have been surprising—any city with as much wealth as this one had would hardly scrimp on its entertainment—but Lathe had still been prepared more for the sort of hole-in-the-wall roll joint he'd known on Plinry.
Skyler, apparently, had had similar expectations. "Looks fancy," he commented as they approached the door. "Think they'll let us in?"
"I don't think we're offering them a choice." Lathe gave the area one last scan, confirmed Mordecai was in his prepla
Inside, all was dim lights, bland music, and the quiet drone of conversation. An anteroom led into the main area, which, except for an open space at one end containing a traditional wooden bar, was divided up into a honeycomb of booths, each wrapped in translucent privacy plastic. "Designed for quiet chats," Skyler murmured as they paused at the main room's threshold. "How do we go about finding him—go to each booth and knock?"
"May I help you?" a female voice asked from behind them.
Lathe turned to see a coatroom counter he hadn't noticed, half hidden back in a corner of the anteroom. The woman there was young and far too heavily made up. "We're looking for a man named Kanai," he told her.
"I believe tomorrow is the night Mr. Kanai usually does business here," she said.
"So we've heard. Would it be possible to get in touch with him before that?"
"Most anything is possible here," a new voice chimed in; and a small, thin man in formal wear glided in from the main room.
Lathe glanced back at the woman, taking a quick reading of her expression. Familiarity, quiet dislike, perhaps a touch of contempt. "Are you in charge here?" he asked, turning back to face the man.
The other smiled, an oily sort of expression. "I manage the Shandygaff, yes," he said. "As well as other things. You're looking for Kanai, correct? Business or personal?"
"A little of both," Lathe told him.
"Are you representing someone? He'll want to know."
"Then he can ask us himself, can't he?"
The little man's smile slipped a fraction. "We play by certain rules here, sir" he said, leaning not quite insolently on the last word. "And the first rule is that to conduct business here you first identify yourself."
Lathe gazed at him thoughtfully. "And if we don't?"
The other raised a finger and two walking hulks silently moved in from the main room to flank him.
Above their formal wear, their impassive faces showed the evidence of i
Slowly, deliberately, Lathe brought his left fist chest-high, covering it with his right hand. The little man's body went rigid as the red-eyed dragonhead ring caught the dim light. "Call Kanai," Lathe instructed him quietly. "I think he'll be willing to see us."
—
A handful of the nearest booths in the convoluted floor pattern had openings which faced the door.
Lathe and Skyler let a waiter take them to one of those, ordered a beer apiece, and settled down to wait.
"We're sure spending a lot of time on this mission hanging around bars," Skyler noted as they waited for their detox tablets to neutralize any potential drugs in their drinks. "You think he'll come alone?"
Lathe shrugged. "That is the question, isn't it? It may depend on how deeply they're involved with the criminal element in town."
"That barman—Phelling—talked about them drumming up business here. Could be the local criminals keep them informed on potential collie targets."
"You really believe that?"
Skyler smiled lopsidedly. "Probably not. Though if they've really quit the war to become mercenaries they're taking an awful risk on Jensen's righteous indignation."
"We'll save that threat for our trump card," Lathe said dryly.
"Right."
Conversation lagged, and Lathe took the opportunity to study their booth and its surroundings. From the shoulders up they were shielded from the rest of the room only by the privacy plastic—which, while not even remotely bulletproof, at least fogged images enough to make aiming difficult. The booth's seatback was thick enough to provide a somewhat better shield, though again its strength was dubious. The table itself bothered him more. Thick and heavy, it was bolted solidly to the floor via a metallic central stem. An immediate and formidable obstacle to a fast exit from the booth, should such a move become necessary. He was surreptitiously testing the strength of its co
Lathe looked up. Moving toward them from the anteroom was a slim oriental man. He stepped to the edge of their privacy shield, glanced at Skyler, then turned his attention to Lathe. "I'm Lonato Kanai," he said, raising right hand to left shoulder in formal blackcollar salute. His dragonhead had the vertically slit eyes of an ordinary commando.
"Comsquare Damon Lathe," Lathe said, returning the salute. "Commando Rafe Skyler. Sit down."
Kanai did so, something in his face and movements suggesting wariness. "I suppose we might as well dispense with the obvious question of where you came from," he said, "and go right to the important one: why are you here?"
"Here in Denver or here in the Shandygaff?" Lathe asked.
Kanai smiled faintly. "Either, or both."
"We hear you're for hire. We want some details."
The smile vanished. "We handle... difficult jobs for our clients," he said, his voice oddly stiff.
"Penetration, goods recovery, intelligence—"
"Against whom?" Skyler interrupted.
Kanai's lip twitched. "Against whomever the client wants."
"Government targets?" Skyler persisted. "Rival criminal bosses? Or just ordinary citizens who get out of line?"
Kanai's brow darkened. "We don't touch the ordinary citizens," he growled. "Ever. Only those in charge."
"The government?" Lathe asked.
"The government isn't in charge in Denver," Kanai snorted. "The roachmen keep pretty much to Athena while the parasites run the city."
"Parasites like Manx Reger?"