Nik opens the door to Lovelace, which is now a flurry of activity. The lights are on and there’s a team of people setting up: tables, seating around the room, a podium, a large video screen, a hologram table in the center. Wires spill in every direction, like they were thrown down with little care for where they landed. I lead us to a corner where it seems like we’ll be the least in the way.
“Once the room is set up,” I tell Eshe, “you’re welcome to check things out and let us know if you have any special requests or accommodations, which we will meet, if they are within reason. We’re going to close all entrances to this level but one, and I’m going to have TEA agents stationed here until this is done. They’ll be checking IDs, and roaming the hallway and ballroom. You will be responsible for providing a list of who is allowed down here. If someone wants to come down and they are not on the list, it’s not happening. Nik, you’ll run point on that.”
Eshe remains silent.
“There will be a scanner set up and everyone will be required to come through it. Even your boss. You will be given access to my direct comms channel,” I say, holding up my watch. “If you need me, buzz me. If you ask me a stupid question or wake me up, so help me god I will spend the rest of my life ruining yours. Don’t make me regret being accessible. I want your attendance list by twenty-two-hundred tonight. Any questions?”
“How many guests are we permitted to have?” Eshe asks.
“Everyone gets ten names so we can keep things manageable. Obviously your name doesn’t count since you’re running point. You can come and go.”
“We have more than ten,” she says.
“Prioritize.”
Her eyes narrow but she doesn’t protest.
“Good talk,” I say. “You’re welcome to check out the room now.”
She nods and glides away, scanning the room as she goes.
“Nik, remember that little spiel, because if you run into someone who needs to hear it, you can give it to them.” I turn to Ruby. “Put those requests for a scanner and TEA agents to Danbridge. And when you send the notes out to everyone else, be sure to underscore when I want those names. Okay, dummy?”
Ruby gives a whir and says, “Done. Despite your incessant name-calling and your unending list of requests.”
“That thing is pretty useful,” Nik says. “You’re awful hard on it.”
“It’s a machine. It doesn’t have feelings.”
“Right, but it takes effort to be mean,” he says.
“I know it takes effort,” I tell him. “It’s how I get my exercise.”
* * *
—
Snowflakes whip against the sliding glass doors of the hotel, loud enough that I can hear them. I pray the forecast is wrong and we only get a dusting, but with the way things are going, those doors will be completely buried in the next ten minutes. I know this because as much as I want things to be quiet in the lobby, they are very much not.
“The nearest hotel is forty-five minutes away. Do you see what it looks like outside? I want a room here.”
The man making the racket is shorter than Reg, by a head and a half. And Reg has a good hundred pounds on him, only some of it fat. Still, he’s practically genuflecting in fear. Besides being short, the crybaby is wearing a very sloppy suit for a rich guy. I have a theory about that: if a guy with money can’t wear a suit that fits, then he has no one in his life who cares about him enough to provide an honest opinion. Which says an awful lot about his character.
“I told you, we are fully booked,” Reg says, his palms out in a calm-down gesture.
The man makes an annoyed sound in his throat and walks up to a nice young couple who look like they pose for the stock photos that come with frames when you first buy them. “How much did you pay for your room? I’ll triple it.”
“Sir…” Reg says.
“Lord,” I say, starting toward the scrum, but Nik puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Let me earn my keep.”
He raises an eyebrow at me and smiles. He’s eager to cut loose a little, and I think he’s picked up on my general disdain for the clientele. So I put out my hand, give him the go-ahead. He gets between the man and the now-terrified couple. He speaks softly, but puts his hand on the man’s shoulder to exert dominance.
If I can slide some stuff onto his plate, it’ll make my buffet of bullshit a little easier to get down.
I head for the coffee urn, hoping someone has refilled it, but no, chaos continues to reign. I consider pushing the urn onto the floor so maybe someone will notice, but then I do the adult thing and look for someone to wave down and tell them. No one is looking in my direction.
“Ruby, put in a note for someone to refill this.”
“Is there anything else you’d like me to do for you, master?” it asks.
“Drop the attitude. Find anything yet?”
“Not yet. And I won’t if you keep giving me more to do. Is coffee a priority now?”
“Figure it out or I’m going to recycle you.”
I head for the security office, so I can have a bit of quiet, and I can arrange time with the other bidders. But there’s a high-pitched shriek from the Butler elevator bank, and a woman screams, “What are those things?”
Godfuckingdamnit I forgot about the dinosaurs.
“I thought I told you to keep an eye out,” I tell Ruby. “How did you miss that?”
“I’m…not sure,” it says.
Not comforting, but something we’ll need to come back to.
I sprint for the elevators, glad I wore my running boots. Nik falls in alongside me, the two of us dodging people who want to see what’s happening, or are trying to run away.
We find a bottle blonde in red fuck-me pumps on top of an empty luggage cart, clutching onto the railing like she’s at risk of blowing away. A chicken-size velociraptor is nipping its tiny little jaws at her feet, and she’s trying to keep away from it on the narrow surface without tipping the whole thing over.
For a trained security professional it is inappropriate to laugh, but I do anyway.
The scene becomes slightly funnier when I see her other half: a very large man with a pug-dog face, who is standing with his head in his hands, unable or, more likely, unwilling to act.
He sees us run up and points to the tiny, scaly beast. In a heavy Greek accent he yells, “Do something!”
Nik turns to me and whispers, “This might be weird, but that thing is actually kind of adorable.”
“Ever cross a big one?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“I did once. Breaking up a poaching ring. I’d show you the scar, but it’d involve me taking my pants off, and, kid, we are not there yet.”
“What’s the play?”
The woman kicks at the dinosaur and makes contact but doesn’t do much damage. In the process she nearly tumbles off the cart, but manages to catch herself. The pug-faced man is now trudging toward us, waving his arms. “Will you please do something before she breaks her neck?”
I try to suppress the eye roll and fail. “Well, there should be three, so that’s…”
There’s a scream from the lobby.
“Number two,” Nik says. “I got it. What are we doing with these things?”