Nobody had skin like that. “Sallies only,” she said again when he did not move or speak. “Out.”
“I don’t want service. My name is Jack Eckart. I’m looking for Fireside Elsie.”
“You found her. This is my place.” She held out a hand. Her grip was strong but the fingers were ice-cold, like the hand of a corpse. She went on, “Who gave you my name?”
“I don’t know. He was a tall black man, back at the Golden Goose. He seemed about ready to pass out.”
“Louie Lucas. Why’d he tell you about me?”
“I’m looking for a friend of mine, Bunnyfat Ramble. He was an expert in … certain kinds of equipment. Last time we heard from Bun he was on the Vulcan Nexus. Louie Lucas thought you might be able to help me.”
They examined each other closely. Her face had a thin, prominent nose and a near-lipless mouth. Danny could see her eyes now. They were black and lifeless.
At last she said, “Can you pay for information?”
“Some. I have trade crystals. How much do you want?”
“Not for me. You make your own deal. Come this way.”
She led him into the smoky interior of the Fireside, along an aisle bordered by a dozen small tables at which silver-skinned Salamanders sat cross-legged. The air held a curious aroma, like burning cinnamon and sulfur.
At the far end a little cubicle sat tucked away out of sight of the main room. The light was much brighter inside. She gestured to one of the cubicle’s benches with an arm that bent and flexed as though it had no bone within, and said, “You wait right there. You can’t get service, so don’t ask.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. But I have to make a call.”
She walked away with an oddly sinuous grace. Danny thought of a snake, then changed his mind. The Salamanders were more complicated than a simple human/snake splice. For one thing, the eyes were wrong. The limbs also had that curious flexibility, as though the skeleton was not bone but cartilage.
Could it be a human/snake/shark triplet? The Margrave had been a genius, and Danny had heard of stranger combinations.
Fireside Elsie was coming back, weaving her way past the tables. She was holding two tall beakers of black volcanic glass.
“He’s on the way,” she said. “Don’t ask his name. And here’s a Fireside special. You can’t ask for service and get it, but I can give it.”
She handed him one of the beakers and drank deeply from the other. Danny could not see what was inside, but as he took a first sip he comforted himself with the thought that she had no particular reason to poison him. He needed that thought, because the thick liquid coursed down his throat like a train of fire. He could feel it as the drink reached each separate inch of his oesophagus. His eyes began to water. He saw a blurred image of Fireside Elsie as she turned and walked away.
He wiped at the tears with the sleeve of his jacket. A Salamander who found it necessary to undertake self- immolation wouldn’t need rehearsals, not with drinks like this available as practice.
But he was no Salamander. Danny placed the beaker carefully on the low table in front of him. He peered into the dimlit room, wondering when Anonymous would arrive and where he was coming from. After ten minutes he was considering taking a second sip from the beaker out of sheer boredom when a bulky figure appeared from the shadows and slid onto the bench opposite.
“You looking for somebody?”
Apparently they would dispense with introductions. That was fine with Danny. He said, “A friend of mine, Bunnyfat Ramble. Do you know him?”
Dead eyes stared into Danny’s. Fireside Elsie was a model of geniality compared with the newcomer. “Depends. You say you’re a friend of his. Who are you?”
“My name’s Jack Eckart.”
“Never heard of you.” The Salamander rose and was leaving the cubicle in one lithe movement.
“Wait a minute.” Danny had to make an instant decision. “I’m using that name at the moment, but it’s not the one he knew me by. If he talked of me at all, it would be as Dapper Dan, or Danny Casement.”
The Salamander had turned and was back in the cubicle. “I’ve heard of Dan Casement. But anybody could say that was his name. Give me proof.”
“What kind of proof? I don’t have any identification on me.”
The wide, thin-lipped mouth opened, to show a multiple array of sharp triangular teeth. “If you’re really Diamond Dan Casement, you have something else. Show me a sample.”
Alice Tannenbaum had laid claim to the last wrapped stone, but Danny always allowed for emergencies. He removed his jacket. It took a couple of minutes to work the quarter-carat specimen out from the lining of his coat. He didn’t want to touch the Salamander, so he laid the stone on the table in front of them. “There you are. Take a look. It’s genuine.”
“I don’t care if it’s genuine or not. The fact that you have it with you is the important thing. What’s your question?”
“What was Bun doing, and what happened to him?”
“I can answer the first, but not the second. You ever hear of Flare-out?”
“Never.”
“It’s one of the big games on Salamander Row — there’s a betting board right here at the Fireside. Solar flares can happen any time, so the managers of the Nexus run a pool on flare times and sizes. Now, computer models can’t make a perfect prediction, but they can increase the odds. Of course, they rely on good inputs. You follow?”
“I do.” Danny had run his own gambling operations; he knew the importance of inside information.
“Now, the managers don’t want anybody beating the odds. So they make a law. The law says, it’s all right to have any computer model you like, but the input data stays locked up. A gambling group didn’t think that was fair — to them.”
“Who were they?”
“You don’t want to know. Do you?”
Danny looked into those deep-set, lifeless eyes. “You’re right. I don’t want to know.
“So this group wanted to put a tap on the input data in a way that would never be noticed. People here tried and tried, and they couldn’t do it. Not until somebody you and I both know came along, and he was smart enough to crack all the ciphers. The inputs rolled in smooth and regular and everything was fine. Until somebody talked. You don’t need to know who he was, either” — Danny noted the past tense — “but one day the group was in big legal trouble. And so was your friend. Bun could have stayed and maybe bluffed it through and been all right, but although he was smart he was nervous.
“He ran. Borrowed a ship, left the Nexus, dropped into a low skimmer orbit intending to ride past and off to the outer system. But he never made it. The drive misfired and he went right into the Sun. Sent messages once he realized what was happening. Said good-bye to everybody. Salamander’s finish. End of story.”
Danny recalled the outsized solar disk, flaming outside the port. It was an awful prospect and a terrible way to die; but something was missing.
“You said you could answer one of my questions and not the other. But now you’re saying he’s dead.”
“Smart Danny.” The Sally gave a dry laugh like a chesty wheeze. “Logically, our friend is dead. But Bun was smart, too. I’ve wondered for the past few months. Suppose he wasn’t on that ship? If anyone could rig a skimmer’s communication system so it seemed he was there when he wasn’t, the Bun was the man for that.”
It was wishful thinking, playing the wrong side of the odds. The Sally didn’t seem to realize what was involved. There would have had to be more than the faking of a death. There would have to be an escape plan, a total disappearance, an opportunity elsewhere.
“If he’s not dead, then where do you think he might be?”
“I can’t begin to guess.” The Salamander was standing up. “But I know he’s nowhere on the Nexus.”
Danny stood up, too. “As far as paying you is concerned, I’ll be glad—”
“Forget it. And forget we talked. I’m not doing this for you, and I’m not doing it for me. I’m doing it for him. I liked Bun, as much as you can like a human. If he’s not dead, and if you ever do see him again, say hello from me.”
