their foreheads. Gaming tables looked like the control panels for the various incarnations of the starship Enterprise -ten-dollar minimum tables mirrored the now-cheesy bridge from the original show, while higher denominations upgraded the look through the subsequent series and movies. And the cashier’s cage was set up as an airlock, which not only added visual verisimilitude to the place but forced anyone who felt like cashing in their “plasma credits”-which in any other casino would have been called chips-to stand in a long line and wait to be cycled through the multiple doors. Even the carpet was woven to look like a metal grid, under which was a terrifying plunge to the hundreds of lower decks.
Wherever Gus turned, there was something he wanted to explore in greater depth, but the spacegirl kept marching relentlessly ahead, and he knew that if he took his eyes off her for more than a brief moment, she’d become indistinguishable from her hundreds of hardworking space sisters.
Finally their space guide came to a stop outside a solid slab of polished steel. A giant triangular crystal stood beside it, but aside from that, there was no sign suggesting there was a restaurant here, no menu, not even a door.
“ ‘And if the dam breaks open many years too soon, and if there is no room upon the hill, and if your head explodes with dark forebodings, too,’ ” the spacegirl said with all the passion and enthusiasm of a near-retirement Disneyland Jungle Cruise operator warning of the dangers of a hippo attack.
Before Gus could ask how they were supposed to get in, the spacegirl took a small flashlight from a metallic stand by the steel slab, clicked it on, and shone it through the crystal. As it passed through the prism, the light fragmented into a rainbow, and when it fell on the steel, the slab rolled silently into the wall. “ ‘I’ll meet you on the dark side of the moon,’ ” she said, then turned and walked away.
“That’s a catchy jingle,” Shawn said. “Much better than ‘Have it your way.’ ”
Shawn and Gus stepped into the restaurant, which had been designed to look like the surface of the moon, and to feel like it, too, apparently; Gus’ oxfords crunched on gray lunar pebbles as they made their way to the one occupied table.
Benny Fleck sat by himself at a four-top in the center of the deserted restaurant. He stood as Shawn and Gus approached, which Gus could tell only because his head was suddenly a little lower than it had been.
“Gentlemen, I hope you don’t mind the small detour,” Fleck said. “While I was waiting for you at my office, I realized we could all use a good meal. And there are things here you will want to see eventually.”
Fleck gestured for Shawn and Gus to take their seats, then climbed back into his own. Gus resisted the sudden impulse to peek under the tablecloth and see if he was sitting on a booster.
“We appreciate the faith you’ve put in us, Mr. Fleck, and we want to assure you we will find your Martian,” Gus said. “And if by any chance we don’t, we want to assure you right now it’s not through any lack of desire or willingness on our part.”
Fleck waved off Gus’ preapology. “I have full confidence in the two of you,” he said. “I’ve had a chance to look into your careers, and I’m convinced you’re the right men for this job.”
“So you had us checked out,” Shawn said. “I have to say I’m a little disappointed.”
“I do my research on anyone I hire,” Fleck said. “It’s one reason I’m a success.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Shawn said. “I just wish you had come to us to do the checking. We could have offered extremely competitive rates.”
Fleck studied Shawn closely and decided he was joking. He let out a short laugh, then slapped his hands together sharply. The resulting clap had all the force of a pair of wet tissues colliding, but before the speed of sound would have allowed the sodden thud to travel all the way to the kitchen, three spacegirls appeared at their table, each one lifting a silver platter holding an enormous lobster surrounded by a colorful array of deep-fried vegetables. The spacegirls deposited the platters in front of the three of them, then disappeared back wherever they’d come from.
“I hope you don’t mind I took the privilege of ordering for us,” Fleck said.
“Not as long as you take the privilege of paying,” Shawn said. Gus kicked him under the table.
“If I didn’t, it would just appear on your expense report,” Fleck said with a smile. “I’m cutting out the middle step.”
“Expenses, yes,” Shawn said. There was a hint of a self-satisfied smirk tickling the corners of his mouth. Gus gave him another swift kick, and it disappeared before it could do any harm with their new employer. “We will of course try to keep them to a minimum. Although if we have to personally visit your client’s home planet, that might run into some dollars.”
Shawn picked up a nutcracker shaped like a ray gun and snapped one gigantic lobster claw in half, then noisily sucked out the meat. Gus took advantage of the moment to shift the conversation to actual business.
“It might save us time and effort in our investigation if you could share with us whatever you know about P’tol P’kah,” Gus said.
“Mmmph,” Shawn agreed, gesturing with the piece of shell whose previous occupant was crammed into his mouth and preventing him from forming syllables.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with his recent career,” Fleck said, then waited for a response.
Fortunately, Gus didn’t spend all of last night Googling Fleck. He’d spent some time looking up the magician as well.
“I guess we know as much as any layperson,” Gus said. “Which is to say not much at all. We know that eight months ago you opened the Starlight Theater for him here in the casino, and that he’s played to packed houses ever since. Aside from that, it’s mostly what we-and the rest of the world-don’t know that’s so interesting. P’tol P’kah has never given a single interview. He’s never been photographed without his makeup. No one even knows his real name.”
“Unless, of course, P’tol P’kah is his real name,” Fleck said.
“In which case I know where he is,” Shawn said. “Tracking down his mother and father so he can kill them.”
This time Fleck didn’t spare the effort to convert his faint smile into a laugh. “You say he’s never been photographed without his makeup,” he said. “And that’s how his story is generally reported. Right now, I’m not convinced that’s the absolute truth.”
“You mean you think there are photographs of him without makeup?” Gus could feel the excitement rising in him, but he tried to tamp it down. He still remembered the bitter disappointment he’d felt when, after years of desperately wanting to see what the members of Kiss looked like without the face paint, he finally did.
“I mean I’m not sure anymore that he’s wearing makeup,” Fleck said.
“If he’s on the run, that’s probably a safe bet,” Shawn said, dragging a piece of bread through a deep dish of melted butter. “Pretty hard to stay inconspicuous with a complexion like that.”
“I mean when he’s on stage,” Fleck said.
Shawn and Gus allowed themselves to exchange a quick glance to see how the other was taking this statement. It seemed like a bad idea to laugh in the face of a paying client, especially one with a history of ruthlessly destroying anyone he felt had disrespected him. But neither of them was sure what their option was.
“Are you suggesting that P’tol P’kah is actually a Martian?” Gus finally managed to get out without giggling.
“I know how absurd it sounds,” Fleck said. “If anyone had said the same thing to me eight months ago, I would have laughed in his face. But I’ve studied my client for a long time, and I’ve never seen a hint of anything that would contradict his story.”
“How about his Social Security number?” Shawn said. “He must have given it to you at some point, unless Martians don’t care about money.”
“Oh, they care,” Fleck said. “But my deal is with P’tol P’kah’s loan-out corporation, so all I have is his company’s ID number.”
“How about the first time you met him?” Shawn asked. “You didn’t just bump into a seven-foot Martian walking down the Strip.”
“Not at all,” Fleck said. “Our first introduction was as mysterious as everything else about our relationship. One night I was home alone, and he just appeared.”
“What do you mean?” Gus said. “He beamed into your living room like Captain Kirk?”
“No, although I don’t think that would have surprised me any more than what did happen,” Fleck said. “I was
