Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned) (16 page)

Paxton caught my emotional tussle with myself but didn’t say anything. The boy was wiser than his years. I was liking him more and more.

We exited the groves and caught first sight of the Quest hotel. Eleven stories tall. Short by all modern standards. It seemed it was a running theme with the place, but as the old saying goes, ‘size isn’t everything.’ I guess Texas finally realized, ‘bigger isn’t always better.’

It was impressive, I’ll give it that. Finer than any hotel I’d seen. Then or since. Most architecture of the time was all steel and glass, twisted about each other trying to show off how smart the engineers were at playing with the laws of physics. Not the Quest though. No, not at all. The Quest reminded me of the old
SkyDome, but with an ancient Roman architectural flair.

Giant statues of men and women stood standing guard like columns, circling the entire hotel. I recognized a few. Most were heroes of the Collapse and the Struggle afterwards. All the ones I recognized were dead. I could only assume they all were. Such was the price they paid to maintain order in a chaotic time. That’s what it really takes to be a hero. You have to die to get a statue built of yourself. A memorial. That’s what the Quest really was.

Beit had vision and style. It would be a damn shame if he turned out to be an E3 man after this splendor he’d helped build.

While Paxton was getting fitted for his role, I’d gone over all I could on Beit. That included his designs for Harlan. Impressive. On the outside the place looked like it was going to be a mighty fine capital. But when you knew what to look for. When you knew who was in charge of the security details. You could see through the veil.

Texas was building itself a modern self-sustaining fortress.

And we were surrounded by the test run.

We pulled up to the front of the Quest. Several bellhops approached the limo as it came to a stop. One opened the main door while the others immediately began unloading the baggage.

I exited first to announce the arrival of Alistair Fitz Walter-Pierce III.

That being his cue, Paxton exited the vehicle.

He looked the part of nobility wearing a black
sherwani suit with silver scroll work accentuating the cuffs, collar, and lapels. His pedigree said he didn’t have any Middle Eastern ancestry, but somehow he looked the part.

The look was retro to fifty years prior when the old U.S. had conquered that part of the world and cultures began to merge.

My alias as Alistair was my customary moniker when dealing with the elite and had been in existence for quite some time. Except I wasn’t playing the part this time. Paxton was. I sure hoped he could pull it off long enough for me to get to the truth of things.

Frank and I had decided to resurrect my old alias. We worked out the cover story and Frank had arranged all the necessary false documentation.

Sam would recognize it. She’d helped me create it. That’s what I was hoping for. It would be abundantly obvious that I was there on assignment and hopefully she’d help keep my cover. I’d never met Beit or any of his associates. I’d been too busy with work to attend any of the social functions Sam had wanted me to attend. It was one of the many reasons we ended up divorced.

All the bellhops, as well as myself, bowed to Paxton when he exited.

I’d always hated being Alistair. Thought I’d killed and buried him years ago. Never thought I’d play necromancer and resurrect him. Alistair was supposed to be rich (which I was), arrogant (sometimes), and aloof (okay, guilty.) In those regards we were the same person, and yet we were completely different. Or so I liked to think back then.

Being Alistair wouldn’t have worked for me on this assignment, but Paxton in the role would make it easier for him to stay out of the way. My playing the help though was perfect. Even after thousands of years, people still had the propensity to ignore those they thought were beneath them.

Paxton acted the part perfectly. Like he really was Alistair and he’d been pretending to be Paxton all along. He barked at the bellhops to be extra careful with the luggage, that their contents were more valuable than their miserable lives.

We made our way into the hotel and I quickly tipped all the help. Money greased palms, and tips were legitimate bribes. I’d learned to play the game decades ago. Who knew when chips would need to be cashed in and kindness repaid.

The bellhop who’d initially opened the door led us inside. It was a grand display. I began to question though that Alistair should have brought along more help of his own.

The lobby and entrance were wide and open, much like every other grand hotel I’d been in. As such, the second and third stories were non-existent in this section in order to allow more natural light in.

Where the outside looked like ancient Rome, the inside had a Southwestern theme like you’d expect in Texas. Large stone layered columns, along with a considerably large amount of giant bronze statues depicting several southwestern themes, made you feel like you were an ant in the land of giants. One specific statue caught my eye. It was the front half of a horse, which appeared to be trapped within the floor. It looked like it was attempting to climb up out of mud, which I found odd. The whole image looked somewhat morbid. What was the significance of it, I wondered. I asked Kali, she didn’t know.

A woman of nominal physical attractiveness approached us with an authoritative manner. She was dressed in a black business suit – pants, not a skirt, which made her look like a lawyer, and a damn good one at that. It always annoyed me though how women could wear suits, yet they didn’t have to wear the damn tie. Not that I’m really complaining. A woman can look mighty fine in a good suit. And without the tie it shows off their sensual neck.

The woman had her own small entourage. Four men accompanied her, two to each side. She smiled and showed her feminine charm as she approached. I instantly surmised she was something along the lines of a guest relations manager and not the usual welcoming party. Maybe it was because the conference was going on which meant most of the guests were high profile. Maybe it was because of the Alistair alias. Maybe Sam had the name flagged and was already on to me.

“Mr. Pierce,” she said with a little bow. “I hope your journey here was quick and without incident.”

I suppressed a laugh.

“It was well enough,” Paxton said.

So far so good. We’d only had a couple of hours to go over the role. It seemed he was a natural. I was beginning to seriously think he’d actually make a decent CI.

With a warm, beautiful smile she said, “Well Mr. Pierce, here at the Quest hotel and the Regency resort, we want your stay to be more than, ‘well enough.’ My name is Bethany Smalls,” she extended her hand, which Paxton gently took and shook.

“I’m the Guest Relations Manager for the Regency,” she continued. “If there is anything I can do to make your stay the best it can be, please, don’t hesitate to ask. This is Mr. Quentin.” She indicated a fairly attractive middle-aged looking man to her right, who came a step closer and smiled. “Mr. Quentin will be your personal concierge during your stay. Anything you need, he will get,” she said.

Paxton extended his hand to the man. They shook.

“This is Ze’ev, my personal attendant,” Paxton said, indicating me. I bowed. “I’m sure the two of you will solve any issue that may arise.”

Paxton was doing everything perfectly. He’d just set up the expectation for me to interact with everyone, specifically to converse with Quentin. Being a hotel concierge, hopefully the only loyalties he had were to the hotel and not to any of its guests, and that he wasn’t above gossiping about them.

“There is one last matter,” Ms. Smalls said. “Please accept the hotels, as well as my own, sincerest apology in not being able to provide you with a secluded cottage on the estate at this time. Due to the conference all the cottages are already occupied. We have, however, made arrangements for you to stay in the Espenson Suite which occupies a large portion of the tenth and eleventh floors. I assure you, it is among the finest of all the rooms we provide.”

We’d already known this when the accommodations were made. I’d already instructed Paxton how to act.

“That is quite all right,” Paxton said smoothly, almost in a nonchalant manner. “It is completely my fault for not making known in advance my intentions to attend. I’m sure whatever you can provide will be sufficient.” He smiled. “Why, I’m sure your stables are so luxurious, I’d even sleep in them with my horses if it were the only place available.”

Boy was a natural. Not sure if I could have done it better myself.

Ms. Smalls laughed as I’d hoped she would. “We have yet to resort to such drastic measures.”

In any other republic I wouldn’t have had Paxton add that last remark. It would have broken with the role. But in Texas one needed to be as polite as possible. Making people laugh worked the best.

“You mentioned horses, Mr. Pierce, are they here now?” Ms. Smalls asked.

“They’ll be arriving later today. I hear you have some excellent trails on the grounds.”

“In that case I’ll make sure the staff is ready for their arrival. And as for trails, we have the best in the area. Mr. Quentin can arrange a guide if you’d like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Paxton said.

I didn’t own any horses, but it was within character for Pierce to have brought some, so we’d rented a few for the duration of our stay. Of course with such a last minute arrangement we weren’t able to get them in time for our arrival.

Ms. Smalls bowed again and said, “I think everything is in order then. If you’ll follow Mr. Quentin, he’ll show you to your suite. And again, anything you desire, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Paxton and I followed Quentin to the elevator. During the formalities the bellhops had already departed with our luggage.

“Ms. Smalls said our suite occupies the tenth and eleventh floors?” Paxton said.

The door dinged and opened. “Yes, sir,” Quentin said. “Your suite starts on sensational ten and has a second floor on lucky eleven. It’s where all the premier rooms are located.”

Quentin pointed to the elevator buttons. “As you can see, this elevator only goes to the tenth floor. No elevator stops on the eleventh. Only a handful of the service elevators go to the roof. Of which your suite has access to a secluded section of. Technically your suite occupies three levels.”

The elevator was mainly glass allowing the occupants to view out, and others to view in. When it reached the fourth floor which wasn’t exposed, it began to spin, or so it seemed. Technically we were staring at walls, but what we saw was a panoramic view of the resort grounds as we ascended.

Being the only guests riding the elevator it should have taken us straight to the tenth floor, but for some reason we stopped on the eighth. The doors opened onto a vacant hallway.

“Sorry about that Mr. Pierce,” Quentin said. He looked at the buttons. He’d hit the tenth floor button and only the tenth floor. It was still lit, but he pushed it again anyways. The doors closed and we started to climb up for half a second. And then stopped.

Right between the eighth and ninth floors. The simulated view of the grounds went black. The lights in the elevator turned off and then went red.

I felt a terror creep up on me. A terror which had been born a century ago. It’d been fifty years since I’d last felt it. A tightness grew in my chest, like I’d been punched really hard. I opened my mouth but my lungs wouldn’t work. I couldn’t breathe.

The world bega
n to spin.

I found myself on the ground. Both Quentin and Paxton were kneeling beside me. They were speaking. I knew it because their mouths were moving, but I couldn’t hear anything they said.

I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them again we were in a hallway. I was laying down staring up at Quentin and a ceiling.

He was saying, “Ze’ev,” over and over, but I’d forgotten my alias. I was disoriented and forgotten where I was and what was going on. I reached out, grabbed Quentin by the collar, and flipped him over me. I rolled over atop him shoved my forearm into his throat.

Paxton grabbed me by the shoulder, but I didn’t realize it was him. I grabbed his wrist and threw him into the wall.

‹
STOP
,
› Kali yelled in my head.

I did.

My memories came back to me then. Great. All I needed was to have an ages old panic attack blow my cover.

I removed my arm from Quentin’s throat, stood, and helped him to his feet. Paxton was already standing by the time I went to assist him.

“Ze’ev, are you all right?” Paxton asked. At least he was still keeping the lie going. If I spun things right, I could fix what’d happened.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” I said. I got down on one knee, bowed my head so I was staring at his shoes, and held my hands palms up and out.

‹“Take my hands and help me to my feet,”› I told Paxton through the c-link. ‹“Say, ‘All is forgiven. One should not be held accountable for things beyond their control. However, I need someone I can count on during all emergencies. If you are not able to accomplish that, you will have to be replaced. You should, however, apologize to Mr. Quentin, for he was unaware of your past and I’m sure you gave him quite a fright.”›