“Just that they stayed there sometimes. It’s not exactly the kind of situation you quiz people about when you don’t know them.”
Kieran paused for a moment, then said in the tone of someone finally deciding to share a confidence, “We’re trying to find this Elaine. Sarda has blanked out completely, and we think she can provide us with important information. Can you describe her as best you can remember?”
Trevany thought hard but couldn’t add much to what he had said previously. “She was tall and slim-looking, black hair, curly—up high, off her neck, not long. Kind of a pointy-nosed face.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Seemed to like black. Shiny pants, tight. A black top with it. It could have been a shirt, coat, or sweater. I can’t really remember.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope. I don’t think so. That’s about it. Sorry . . . I don’t think I can have been a lot of help.”
“I appreciate it anyhow. . . .” Kieran paused to think back over what had been said. “Actually, you have helped—quite a lot. What date was it when you talked to them in the bar? Can you remember?”
Trevany frowned. “Can’t recall the exact day. But it was during the second week I was there. So it would have been between the thirteenth and seventeenth . . . somewhere in there.”
Kieran produced a calling card and handed it across. It bore just his name with the initials KT emboldened, a General Net personal code, and a cartoonlike figure bearing a sword and shield. “Would you let me know if you think of anything else?”
“Sure.” Trevany studied the card curiously. “What kind of a doctor is this?”
“It’s an old symbolic representation of the hospitaler Knights of St. John. The tradition goes all the way back to the crusades. Very prestigious.”
“Oh yes. I think I might have heard something about that.”
“Very possibly,” Kieran agreed, smiling enigmatically.
* * *
What Trevany had said that Kieran found interesting was that Sarda and Elaine had been hotel guests. That implied they were more than just casual acquaintances. Yet that afternoon, at Kieran’s urging, Sarda had gone through his records and belongings but could find no trace of any Elaine in his life: not a picture, address, phone number, memento. But then again, if his original self had been part of the conspiracy, he would have removed all such traces, Kieran supposed.
However, hotel guests have to pay the bills. If Sarda was keeping a low profile at the time, as Kieran guessed would have been the case, then in order not to leave any paper trail that could point to him, there was a good chance that Elaine would have covered the charges. So even if evidence of her existence had been removed from Sarda’s personal environment, it might still be in the hotel’s records. “Worth a try,” he told Guinness as they drove back through darkening shadows down the twisting canyon road into Lowell. “If you don’t buy a ticket, you don’t get a prize. Isn’t that right, now?” Guinness blinked, yawned, and returned his attention to watching the landscape outside.
Once inside the pressured zone, Kieran followed the highway along Gorky and turned off at the Cherbourg tunnel exit leading beneath the plateau to the underground levels of the spaceport, its service facilities, and the Oasis hotel.
12
Kieran and Guinness arrived at the Oasis bar to find business warming up for the evening. Patti, whom he and June had met at the pool in Nineveh three days before, was on duty as he had hoped, and recognized him as he slid onto an empty bar seat. She had auburn hair tied in a ponytail and was wearing a white top with shorts. “You did! You remembered!” she exclaimed, looking down over the bar. “Hi, Guinness! Did you come all this way to see me?” Guinness thumped his tail on the table behind, read the tone, and returned a look that asked how she could ever have thought otherwise.
“You’re lucky,” Kieran said. “He was practically adopted by a gang of kids over in Nineveh.”
“We don’t have any stout—see, I remembered. What else can I get for you?”