“Which means that Baumer was setting her up from the beginning. He led her to whoever is really behind all this. What happened to her wasn’t done at any headworld shop run by the local Mafia.”
Hunt was already nodding. It all made sense. “We need to tell Cullen about this,” he said.
The car carrying Koberg, Lebansky, and Gina arrived in front of the complex where the Geerbaine Best Western was situated. On a grassy area to one side of the approaches to the complex was an untidy collection of shanty huts and tents belonging to a meditation group who believed that the cosmic energy drawn down by arriving spacecraft helped them commune with the universe. Nearby, a meeting was being held to protest that the same energy posed a risk of cancer and mutant babies. The fact that there was nothing measurable to produce either effect made not the slightest difference.
“They’re all crazy,” Koberg declared, observing the scene as the car crossed an open area in front of the hotel. “Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if they did ship the troops in from back home. It could be what the place needs. How else are you gonna straighten it out?”
“Either that or get out,” Lebansky agreed. “Let the Thuriens handle it.”
“Hell, they’d be even worse than what we’ve got.”
“Maybe we’re just being old-fashioned, Mitch. Aren’t Thuriens what people used to call liberals?”
“Then if God was a liberal, we’d have had the Ten Suggestions,” Koberg said. They both laughed.
Eubeleus and the first several thousand Axis of Light followers had been lifted up into orbit earlier, to join the Thurien ship that was to take them to Uttan, and there were still all kinds of people about. There had also been some trouble, by the look of things. Gina pointed through a side window at two burned-out vehicles pushed to one side of the road. “See over there. It looks as if there’s been some excitement.”
“Probably a Jev auto mechanic,” Koberg grunted.
They pulled up in the hotel forecourt, where a number of police were standing around loosely, and went through to the front lobby. Koberg accompanied Gina to the desk. Lebansky remained a short distance back, scanning the surroundings from long habit, his eyes missing nothing, checking everyone who came and went.
“Room 201,” Gina said to the clerk. “I called earlier about a change of plan. I just need to collect my stuff. “The clerk consulted a terminal.
The hotel manager, Eric Venders, whom Gina had gotten to know casually, was also at the desk. “You’re leaving us?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you found a better place in town.”
“I’m moving into PAC. I’ll be doing some work in the city. It’s more central.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Gina opened her purse, ostensibly to find her door key, and located the folded sheets of the report for General Shaw that she had brought. “Was there some trouble here earlier?” she asked. “There’s a lot of police around outside, and I noticed a couple of burnt cars.”
“A bit,” Venders said. “It’s over now. I don’t know what it was about. I stay out of Jev politics.”
The clerk looked up from the terminal. “You’re all set, Ms. Marin,” he confirmed.
“And there should be a package for me.”
“One moment, I’ll check.”
“A reader left one of my books to be signed,” Gina explained to Venders. She was acutely conscious of Koberg standing behind her and surprised at the nervous flutter in her voice. “She called me at PAC earlier.”
“Here it is: ‘Ms. Gina Marin.’ “ The clerk was holding a large, buff-colored envelope.
“That looks like it. Thank you.”
An incoming call sounded.
“Excuse me.” Venders turned away to take it.
Gina opened the envelope and drew out a copy of Green Gestapo:
Hidden Agendas for Social Control in the Nineties. Tucked inside at the title page was a short note from Marion Fayne, explaining that she had an appointment that morning. Gina wrote: To Marion Fayne, with best wishes—the first of my interstellar fans. Thanks for bringing home suddenly a lot closer! She signed and dated it, adding, Shiban, planet Jevlen.