Questions

A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.

- Mark Twain -

This was turning out to be the most dangerous Find of my career. Well, the second most. Still, my life had been threatened more times in the last three days than the last ten years. When Mr. Jones hired me to Find Leena, I knew something was up, and whatever it was, it was huge. Whenever I heard her name, or even thought about her, my Vision would bring in thunder and pounding waves against an immeasurably tall cliff face. Like I said, big. Bigger than anything I had ever encountered, and probably bigger that I could conceive. Yeah, yeah, you get it, it was big. It's my story, so let me tell it.

Back to the interview then. I looked at Darwin. He had started to clean his ears with his paws, a signal to me that we needed to take a casual but careful approach with our surprise guest. At least that is what I think he meant by it.  It might have just meant that he was dissatisfied with the state of his ears. What the hell do I know?

"Who are you?" I asked. If we were going to get anywhere, we had better start with easy questions.

"They'll kill me too, if they know I was here!" His voice started to rise again. So much for easy questions.

"Please, let me go! I have to get out of here before anyone notices that I am missing!" He was starting to shout and tremble as he struggled against my belt. His eyes were wide and there was actually spittle forming in the corners of his thin lips. I had never seen anyone this scared. And I knew that he wasn't scared of me or Darwin. At this point Darwin jumped down and started prowling around the bed. He was looking for our wet rat's weapon.

"If you don't quiet down," I said calmly, "the whole station is going to know that you are here. I can just walk out. You, on the other hand, will have to wait until an actual person comes into the room. That could be weeks. So let's start again. Who are you?"

He seemed stunned by this line of reasoning. Apparently it had never occurred to him that he might ever be in any danger by dropping by unannounced. Still, I didn't see a holster on him. I looked down and Darwin had come back to sit at the foot of the bed, purring contentedly. Ok, no weapon under the bed then, which meant that he had come unarmed into the room.

"Bornam Singer," he replied in a shaking whisper, "I live here."

"In this hotel?"

Again, confusion. Apparently a lack of intelligence was coupled with a lack of humor. 

"No, on Paradise Station! I have a hole down by the main filtration plant. It's warm, and the rats there are friendly." 

"Alright, Borman Singer, why don't you tell us why you decided to visit us at this ungodly hour?"

"Bornam," he corrected. "I came to warn you. They have hired another assassin. This one is really good! He almost never gets caught!"

"I am having a little trouble with that part," I said. "Why would anyone want to kill me? I haven't done anything wrong, unless selling filter liners is a crime. Honestly, business isn't so good that the competition would be worth murdering for."

This really confused him, and he took a minute or so trying to sort it all out. Finally, the question he should have asked first dawned on him.

"Aren't you that Finder, Joshua Friedman? You're here on a job, looking for a missing girl, right?" His voice was starting to rise again. I pasted on my best 'what the hell are you talking about' face.

"Oh, god," he whined, "am I in the wrong room? They're going to find out and they are going to kill me!"

Darwin hissed quietly. This had the immediate effect of cutting through Singer's rising hysteria and once again silenced him.

"No, as a matter of fact. I am Robek. Robek Whitney, humble filter distributer from planet side, Sutham territory. Are you looking to buy some new air filters for your hole? On second hand, you don't look like you could afford them." Singer managed to look confused, worried and crestfallen all at the same time. I was starting to warm to the role.

I sensed Darwin move and I looked down at him. He was looking at me with that incredulous expression on his face. I guess I was getting a little too elaborate with my ruse, and he didn't approve. Fine. I can never have any fun. I turned my senses on Singer to see if I could get a feel for his movements. The trails of his future and past were chaotic, and provided no information that I could use. It is sometimes a good idea to not rely too much on my talents. Slow and steady, as they say.

"Why are you looking for...? Who did you say?"

"Joshua Friedman," he replied quietly, disappointment dripping from every pore. No, that was just sweat. "He's a worlds famous Finder, and I heard he was on the station. He's looking for a girl..."

"Aren't we all," I muttered.

"What? Oh, yeah. I guess. Anyways, he is looking for this girl who has gone missing and no one can find her, but I bet he can. Except that they don't want her to be found, so they are trying to kill him again. I mean, not kill him again, cause they didn't kill him the first time. The assassin they hired is dead. I mean, not this one, the other one, the one that didn't kill him. This one, the one they are sending now, he is going to kill him... Friedman, I mean, except I am not so sure 'cause he killed the first one. The assassin I mean, not Friedman. I mean, yes, Friedman, but I mean Friedman killed the first assassin. And I mean that he, Friedman, might kill this one too, except that he might not and be killed instead. Unless I warned him, you see? Friedman, not the assassin."

Once long-hair got talking, there was no stopping him.

"And how do you know that they are sending, what did you say? Another assassin after this Freedom character?"

"Friedman," he said, "'cause of where I live, sometimes when they are doing maintenance they shut down a couple of the machines in the plant and it gets really quiet in there. That's when I can hear people talking if they are close by and the echoes aren't too bad. Anyways, I heard them talking. Two men. Or maybe one of them was a woman, but with a really low voice, you know? Or maybe they were both really low voiced women? It's hard to tell on account of I don't talk to many people, and hardly anyone talks to me."

"Shocker," I said quietly. Darwin's constant purring was interrupted and I looked at him again. Ok, I will shut up, sorry.

"Please forgive my interruptions and continue your fascinating tale." I wasn't going to give into Darwin that easily. This long-hair had surprised me, and I hate surprises.

"Anyways, these two... people," he finally decided, "and they said that Friedman was on the station and that he had to be stopped. Actually only one of them said that. The other one said that it was not his problem, and then the first one said that he could make it worth his problem. Or was it worth his time. I dunno, I can't remember that part. But then the first one offered the second one money, a lot of money. That is what he said, a 'lot of money'. Not an actual amount, mind you, but 'a lot of money.' I found that odd, don't you find that odd, Mister Whitney?"

It took me a second longer than it probably should have to realize he meant me.

"Yes, that is odd Borman."

"Bornam. I thought so too. Anyways the first one said that you would be in room 365a in the Valhalla hotel. This is room 365a isn't it? Cause if it isn't then they are going to find me and they are..."

Darwin delivered a pre-emptive growl at Singer's rising volume.

"...cause if it isn't, then they are going to find me and kill me." This last was delivered in a whisper.

"Actually, this is 365b. The room you want is through that door." I pointed to the adjoining door that made these two rooms into a luxury suite. I use the term luxury loosely, of course.

"I am a dead man," he whispered plaintively. "I am never going to see the sun rise through the port holes again..."

"Wait ten minutes," I said automatically. 

"I am going to die in ten minutes!?!" Singer was getting predictable. I hate predictable. And surprises. I know, I am complicated that way. Anyhow, this interview was quickly becoming a trial of my patience. Time to sum it up.

"Ok, so you got the wrong room." 

He hadn't.

"And you found the wrong guy." 

He hadn't.

"That doesn't explain why you came up here at all. Most people, when they hear that there is an assassin floating around, tend to make themselves scarce. Why this sudden case of altruism?"

He looked confused again. I guess small words were in order.

"Why are you trying to warn, me...," damn. "...this Freedom character. What's in it for you?"

He didn't seem to catch my slip up. He was looking down, apparently disappointed in his failure.

"Freidman. They said there was a lot of money involved, so I thought that he would pay me for information. Seeing how he would be safer if I told him, I thought he might be grateful, in a money way."

"I am sorry, I am a little confused now." I actually was.  "Isn't it the assassin, or at least the man that hired him, the one with the money? A lot of money. What makes you think that Freedom... Friedman, I know. What makes you think that he had any money to give you?"

The stunned look that followed was completely expected by this time. It had clearly never occurred to him that not everyone connected with this case would be simply rolling in 'a lot of money.'

"He hasn't got any money? But he is a Finder! He is THE Finder. He finds people, important people, and they pay him, maybe a lot of money?"

"Would he be staying here if he had 'a lot of money.'?"

Singer paused a moment. "Maybe he was being incorgnito?" I am not kidding, I couldn't make this up. Incorgnito.

"No one wants to be THIS 'incorgnito'" I said pointedly, giving the room another once over.

Singer paused for a moment, seeming to consider his rapidly diminishing options. "Are you going to tell anyone I was here? I could just leave, you know. Make it our little secret. I won't even sue you for breaking my heart."

"That is very kind of you. And I won't sue you for breaking and entering. Fair is fair, I guess."

"Fair is fair." He smiled in a misguided effort to reassure me. I shuddered a little. He nodded his head backwards and rolled his eyes behind him. "Do you think that you could... you know?"

I looked over this scrawny station rat once more, and figured I could take him in a fair fight if it came to it. "Why not," I conceded.

I got up from the bed and went around to the back of the chair.  I undid the knot that bound him to the chair, then loosened his hands.

I didn't even see how he did it. Once second, I was untying knots, the next his knee was pressing into the back of my neck, and forcing my face into the bolted chair, a loop of my own robe's belt constricting around my neck. And I felt like an idiot, again. I only hoped that Darwin wasn't watching this time. That would be embarrassing.