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"I need to see about my weekend shifts, and monthlies," Cotswald said. "Line In is piping the Sourbellies from Beal Street athenaeum tonight; thought I'd tune in."
"More ice for us, then," Moyo said, coming around the desk to shake hands again. "Rooster, take Stu down to the box and get him set up. Unless you want a quick look at the inventory?"
Valentine hated to think of the faces. "No, I'll check out your games. And your bar."
"Be down in an hour or so. I've got to go up and do my own reporting." Moyo inclined his head toward the barred corridor.
"You actually go up?" Valentine asked; no pretense was required for his incredulity.
"Just to an audience blister. You ever been in one?"
"No," Valentine said.
Moyo lost a little of his bristle. "My predecessor used to rub lemon zest inside his nostrils to keep out the smell. But it's the walls that get to me. That paste they use, it sucks water out of the outside air somehow. Everything on the inside's wet and dripping. When a big drop hits your shoulder . . . well, you jump. Feels like someone tapping you."
Valentine broke the silence that followed. "See you for a drink later, then."
"Sure. Whoa there, Stu, you missing something?"
"What's that?" Valentine asked.
"Looks like you dropped your roll." Moyo pointed. "It's right under the desk there."
There goes the excuse to come back up here . . . "Must have fallen out when I reached for my coin," Valentine said, flushing. "That would have been a pisser; that's my walking-around money." Valentine retrieved the bills he'd nudged under the desk moments ago.
"I'll forgo the ten percent finder's fee," Moyo said. "Rooster, give me the latest transport figures with destinations, then send in that ass Peckinsnow on your way out, would you?"
* * * *
Valentine slipped the brass ring to Cotswald on the way out as Rooster collected his carryall from his desk. Valentine wondered how long it would take him to have it "checked out." While a brass ring meant little to a Kurian or one of their Reapers if it wasn't on the actual owner's finger, it was still a powerful totem when waved in front of the groundlings. Valentine just had to hope the circumstances of the ring's loss were not so well known as to have everyone connected to it, including Stu Jacksonville, immediately rounded up for the Reapers.
"If you're into music, maybe you can show me around Beale Street tomorrow," Valentine said.
Valentine watched Cotswald touch the ring in his pocket, fingering it like an exploring teenager. "Sure," he said absently.
"You'll find that little thank-you-what did Mister Moyo say, 'finder's fee?'-useful if you ever get down my way," Valentine said.
"I'll have to do that before long," Cotswald said. Valentine felt sorry for the dreamy look in the man's eyes. Did confidence men ever feel guilty as they took their marks?
Valentine and Rooster exited on the "showcase" level. Cotswald continued down in the elevator.
Fresh paint covered the structural concrete here, and the lighting came from bulbs.
"Rooster, can I ask you a question?"
"Shoot, Stu. You don't mind if it's Stu, do you?"
"Not at all." Valentine liked using false names in the Kurian Zone. One more curtain between David Valentine and the vast darkness of the Kurian night. "Why the kindling up in Mister Moyo's office? My head porter has a nicer rig."
Rooster glanced up at the ceiling. "Affectation. He started out as a diesel mechanic. When they made him yard supervisor he got an office. It had that junk in it. To him, that first desk meant he made it. I don't mind-he gave me the previous director's outfit for my office. Solid mahogany and half a herd of leather."
"Do you intend to be the next director?"
"Almost there already. I run the day-to-day stuff, he gets the headaches. Personally, I like having him between me and them."
Valentine wanted to ask more about the day-to-day stuff, but they reached the box.
About a dozen people, not counting a food server and an impossibly beautiful young man tending bar, already lounged in the box. The wedge-shaped room was divided into a set of plush-looking seats arranged stadium-style and an entertainment area. A hot tub filled with ice prickled with the necks of beer bottles and sparkling wines. Harder liquors filled up a backlit case behind the bar.
