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I tried to think clearly against the mild fog of the Dizuperadol. Synthetic Jack had said, I get to wake up in a hotel suite, which suggested that his base of operations was in one of the six five-star hotels in the city.
I’d had a quick look around my office before Jack killed my Day Player, and that gave me a few clues. First, there was the faint aroma of jet fuel in the air, which suggested Dyson International, the airshipfield to the east of the city—a choice that narrowed the hotels down to the Majestic, the Adelphi or the Piper-Astoria. The swing of his jacket suggested a heavy key fob in his suit pocket, and if that was so, then he was in a suite at the Adelphi—the others used key cards.
I unpinned the phone from my shirt and dialed in one of the numbers that Synthetic Me had considerately left myself on speed dial.
“Phoebe? It’s Thursday. I need a favor.”
I outlined what I needed her to do and heard her sharp intake of breath. She knew she’d be tackling Goliath eventually but hadn’t thought it would be so soon.
“Arresting a Top One Hundred is . . . problematical,” replied Phoebe. “Are you sure you’ve got something on him?”
“Not yet.”
“Here’s the deal,” said Phoebe. “I’ll help you, but if it all goes squiffy, you take the flak.”
“Deal.”
My Synthetic had also thoughtfully left me some clothes, and as soon as I was dressed, I unlocked the door and peered outside. I was in a service area somewhere on the ground floor, so I grabbed my stick and limped out the door but then stopped abruptly as the service elevator opened at the far end of the corridor. It was Jack—with what looked like a body wrapped in a sofa slipcover across his shoulder. I reversed direction as soon as I saw him and limped as fast as I could back toward the storeroom. The first shot zipped past my head as I ducked inside, and I had only just thrown the lock when a second shot struck the door. After five more shots, not a single one of which penetrated the heavy wood, I heard the clatter of a dropped pistol and footsteps down the corridor. I opened the door to find I wasn’t the only one doing so. Heads were popping cautiously out of offices all the way down the corridor to see what was going on. I picked up the small pistol and traced the route Jack had taken in time to see him driving off in my Daimler, my driver lying on the ground, rubbing his jaw. Within a few seconds, I was joined by two Special Library Services troopers.
“Where is he, ma’am?” asked the first.
I told them he was in my Daimler but that he’d be dumping it in less than ten minutes. The trooper nodded and barked some instructions into his walkie-talkie.
I retraced my steps and took the elevator back to the seventeenth.
Duffy looked surprised when he saw me. “You’re okay?”
I showed him the tattoo on the back of my hand and pulled off the bandage on my neck to show a dry wound with a single stitch.
“It’s me,” I said, “really me. What did he tell you?”
“That you had collapsed and he was taking you to the Lola Vavoom Discount Sofa Warehouse See Press for Details Memorial Hospital.”
“Wrapped in a sofa cover?”
“Yes, I thought it a bit strange.”
“He actually gave me one here,” I said, pointing to my forehead. “Cancel my eleven-o’clock and push my eleven-thirty back half an hour. If Bunty can’t be moved, put her in my two-o’clock and bump who was going to be there until tomorrow. Yes?”
Duffy had been writing frantically. “Right. But I don’t think the Blyton Fundamentalists will take kindly—”
“Ahaa!” said a loud voice. “Chief Librarian!”
I turned to see a middle-aged woman dressed in a tweed suit. She had a shock of gray hair poking from under a matching tweed hat, and a pair of silver pince-nez were attached to her lapel with a chain. She was also holding a large leather handbag and an umbrella, both of which could be lethal in the correct hands—and she looked like she had the correct hands.
“I have been called away on sudden business,” I told her in the requisite tone. “I will speak to you in an hour.”
“I shall not be ignored, Chief Librarian Next, “she replied. “My name is Mrs. Hilly, and I think—”
“I have to be at the Adelphi. Good day.” And I walked away.
But Mrs. Hilly wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and because I couldn’t move faster than she could, she was going to be difficult to get rid of.
“I am coming with you,” she said, “to make my opinions known.”
We were in the elevator by now.
“Listen,” I said, “we will talk, but I need to be at the Adelphi five minutes ago, and I’ll be lucky to get a cab this time of day.”
