tanned skin of a heavily tattooed man, cut bomber-style, with fur around the collar, one of the most expensive garments in the world.

He was not the only person wearing such a jacket.

In the end, Jonny thought they were not very much like him at all. So where the fuck was Easy Money?

He turned, seeing her at the same moment she saw him. Quick eyes, face the color of night.

'Hey gaijin-boy, you lookin' for a date?' she said.

'What the fuck are you doing here?' he asked. Ice smiled, looped an arm in his and drew him away from the bar. She wore a tight brown pin-striped dress, cut like a man's suit at the neck, tapering to a pleated skirt that fell just above her knees. Her legs were bare. On her feet she wore rolled-down white socks and strap-on Mary Janes. 'Jesus Christ, you turning tricks for the revolution?'

'Relax,' Ice said, holding the smile. She took him to a corner of the bar below a spiral staircase whose railings were mahogany dragons, curled around each other in battle. Soft quarter-tone melodies came from a wall-mounted Klipsch speaker above their heads. 'Now,' she said, apparently satisfied that no one could hear them. 'Keep smiling, babe. I'm not turning tricks for nobody. See?'

She showed him the cork-bottomed tray she carried. 'I just serve drinks. These Yakuza boys like to be around gaijin girls. 'specially us dark exotic types.'

'But- ' he began.

'But that doesn't mean they can have us.'

'Fuck,' he said. He could not pinpoint who or what he was angry with, the club, Ice or himself. 'So what are you doing here?'

'I was going to ask you the same thing,' she said. 'Where's Sumi?

He touched her shoulder, smiled for the first time. 'She's fine,' he lied. 'I left her up at Conover's. I'm supposed to meet Easy Money here.'

'Por que?'

'Deal I made with Conover,' he said. 'I've got to get some of his merchandise back for him.'

Ice looked at him and her smile wavered. 'You okay?' she asked.

'Fine.'

'Something's wrong. Is it Sumi?'

'She's fine.' He bit off the sentence abruptly enough that he knew Ice could tell he was lying. 'You shouldn't be here,' he told her.

She shrugged. 'I'm undercover,' she told him. 'There's other Croakers and some Naginatas, too. We've staked this place for months. Zamora comes here sometimes.'

'Zamora?'

'Yeah. This is where we first got wind of the raids. Figure the next time he comes in, she pressed two fingers into his ribs, boom! — Buenos noches, Colonel.' She pulled a wad of bills from her pocket.

'Besides, the tips are great.'

He shook his head in wonder. 'I'm glad to see you.'

'Ditto, babe.'

'I know this is sick,' he said, 'but you're making me incredibly horny.'

'It's the club,' she said. 'Subliminals in that holo display. They pump some kind of sex pheromone-analog through the air conditioning system.' Her hands were up before he could stop her.

Later, when he was alone, he would replay the picture of her face, studying the emotions there as she saw his new eyes: fear, bewilderment, concern.

'Oh baby,' she said. Jonny felt her hand on his cheek. He turned his head, caught a distorted image of himself in the upturned lenses of the aviators. Yellow eyes. Vertical pupils glinted chrome green. He had forgotten about them, unconsciously adjusting the exteroceptor's photo-sensitivity to compensate for the mirror shades. He took the glasses from her and started to put them on, but she reached out and stopped him. 'Oh baby,' she repeated. Then abruptly: 'What's wrong with Sumi?

Seeing right through me, Jonny thought. He took a breath. Not wanting to lie, he chose to remain silent. She would not let go of his hands. 'I have to see Easy Money,' he said, finally.

'Tell me about Sumi.'

'Please,' he said. 'She's going to be all right.' Ice's face changed with that. Rigid. He knew she understood. 'Easy has the cure,' he offered.

'There's a cure?'

'That what Easy took when he killed Raquin. Conover didn't know what it was. He was moving it for some third party.'

She shook her head, releasing his hands at the same time.

'Hard to concentrate sometimes,' she said. 'Makes you wonder what we're doing here.'

A particular head in the crowd caught his eye. 'You going to be all right?' he asked her.

She nodded, her jaw silently working, trying to contain the rage and frustration. Jonny had felt it often enough to recognize it. 'Yeah.'

Then: 'Liked your eyes, I did. Your eyes and Sumi's hands. She has these calluses. Gives her character. I liked that.'

'Yeah, me too,' Jonny said. He looked past her. The head was moving. The one with the horns. 'He's over there.'

'Get moving,' she said and kissed him, deeply, biting his lower lip as she released him. 'Against club rules, you know, but what the fuck- It's probably my last night here anyway, right?' She smiled at him.

'I'll get you on the way back.'

'You better.'

He left her then, feeling lousy at abandoning her full of half-digested, half-understood information, but he concentrated on the head moving through the crowd before him. It was odd seeing Easy in a suit. The tuxedo jacket fit him badly across his narrow shoulders.

Jonny caught up with the man and tapped him on the shoulder.

'We've got business,' Jonny said.

Easy turned at the sound of his voice, curling his lips in the distant approximation of a smile. 'Love the new hardware, Jonny,' he said. 'I never thought you had it in you. We could get you a job upstairs any time.'

Jonny looked at his hands and realized that he was still holding the mirror shades. He slipped them on and followed Easy up the spiral staircase.

Upstairs were the prostitutes. The Water Trade, a tradition in Japan for a thousand years, had provided for their presence. They were part of the decor, like the dwarf trees and the straw mats; an accepted style, part of the Floating World. And, as the pleasure girls had reflected their own time in the previous centuries of the trade, so the prostitutes in the Forest of Incandescent Bliss reflected theirs.

They lounged about the halls on benches covered in thick brocades depicting double helices. They waited in doorways and on the railings of the stairways. Some of them were clothed in kimonos, most were partially nude, showing off their tattoos and grafts. A few wore nothing at all and those were the ones that disturbed Jonny the most. 'Don't bother trying to guess their sex,' Easy advised him. 'Half of 'em can't even remember which way they started out.'

At first, Jonny saw nothing special about the prostitutes, but that, he realized was because he had not been prepared to understand them. Mouths like vaginas, vaginas and anuses like mouths. Hands that sprouted silicone elastomer penises instead of fingers. Each of the prostitutes seemed to have at least one extra set of genitalia, most (apparently) had moved or replaced their originals.

Easy giggled and stroked the odd breast, the occasional scrotal sac as Jonny followed him. At one point, Easy snorted something from a plastic inhaler. Jonny caught a glimpse of the label: It was a cheap mass produced interferon nasal spray, Oki Kenko- Big Health- a common cold preventative.

Sniffing loudly, Easy said; 'Now what was that deal we were talking about?' They were on the upper floor of the pagoda.

'The second vial you took off Raquin,' Jonny said. 'Conover's authorized me to pay cash for it.'

'Oh yeah. That.' Jonny wondered if Easy was stoned. The horned man made a vague gesture with his hands, laughed drowsily.

Вы читаете Metrophage
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату