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Truitt considered this for a moment. “Mead, I guess,” he said finally.
“Good choice,” the bartender said, “it’s a little early for grog.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Truitt said as the bartender reached for a glass and began to fill it from a wooden cask behind the bar.
The bartender was dressed in the costume of a serving wench. Her bosom spilled out of the top of the uniform. Setting the glass in front of Truitt, she made a half bow then backed away down the bar. Truitt sipped the drink and sat in the dark room thinking about the man who had created this man-made wonderland.
And how he would break into the man’s office to search.
“How much do I owe you?” Truitt asked the bartender.
“I can put it on your room card,” the bartender offered.
“I’ll just pay cash.”
“Morning special,” the bartender said, “one dollar.”
Truitt sat a few ones on the bar then walked through the dim room and out the door.
TURNING LEFT PAST Stonehenge, he entered a massive atrium. In the distance a chairlift led toward the top of a ski mountain with the crest covered in clouds. Walking
past the base of the mountain, where people on skis were waiting to take the chairlift up, he watched a few skiers coming down the hill as the fake snow flew through the air like real powder. Continuing past, he came upon an information booth.
“Do you have maps of the hotel?” Truitt asked the clerk.
The man smiled and withdrew a map from below the counter and marked their location with a felt-tip pen. Truitt handed the clerk his door card.
“How do I find my room?” he asked.
The clerk ran the card through the scanner and stared at the details on the screen. Taking the pen again, he made notes on the margin of the map. “Take the River of Dreams to Owl Canyon and exit the boat at mine shaft seventeen. Then board elevator forty-one for the ride up to your floor.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Truitt said as he gathered up the map and slid his room card back in his pocket.
“That way, sir,” the clerk said, motioning.
Thirty yards past the information kiosk, Truitt came to a railing along the river that led to a boarding station. There, a line of canoes were awaiting passengers. Attached to a cable like an amusement ride, the canoes circled the hotel on a river with no beginning or end. Truitt climbed into the first one in the line and stared at the control pad. Entering mine shaft seventeen on the keypad, he sat back and waited a moment as the canoe lurched from the stop. It headed down through a false canyon with rocky walls.
Once the canoe automatically stopped at his destination, Truitt climbed out and walked toward a bank of elevators. Finding forty-one, he rode it up to his floor, then exited and walked down a long hallway to his room. Using the card key, he unlocked the door.
The room was decorated in a mining-town motif. The walls were paneled with weathered wood planks and accented with pressed tin. A sagging bookshelf with old books and novels was propped against the wall. On another side was an old gun rack with fake Winchester rifles bolted down. The bed was wrought iron, piled with what looked like antique quilts. It was as if Truitt had been transported back in time.
Truitt walked over to the window, parted the drapes and stared down at Las Vegas as if to ensure himself that the world outside was still the same. Then he closed the drapes again and walked into the bathroom. Although it was decorated to appear old, it featured a steam shower and tanning lamps. Splashing some water on his face, he dried himself off then walked back into the room to telephone Hanley.
“HICKMAN CAN PLAN a major operation,” Truitt said when Hanley answered, “that’s for sure. You would not believe this place—it’s like a theme park with slots.”
“Halpert is still researching him,” Hanley said, “but he’s secretive. Have you devised a plan to search his office yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Be careful,” Hanley told him. “Hickman is very powerful, and we don’t want any backlash if it turns out he’s not involved.”
“I’ll get in and out as quietly as possible,” Truitt said.
“Good luck, Mr. Phelps,” Hanley said.
Truitt started humming the theme to Mission: Impossible as he disconnected.
SITTING DOWN AT the rolltop desk in the room, Truitt studied the hotel map and the building plans that Hanley had faxed to the Gulfstream before they had landed. Then he took a shower, changed clothes and left the room. He took the elevator down, boarded a canoe and rode it to the main entrance. Then he walked outside and hailed a cab.
