World Walker 1: The World Walker (22 page)

Seb had been wondering. He grabbed his jacket and followed Walt out of the restaurant, noticing that no payment was offered or, apparently, expected.

Steve drove them to their destination, a well-known casino on The Strip.
 

"Remember my trick with the napkin?" said Walt. Seb shuddered, recalling the feeling of dread that had gripped him as the square of linen had scuttled toward him across the table.

"Don't think I'll ever forget it," he said.

"Good," said Walt. "What you've got to remember is I've been doing this a long time. Trained with Sid for 15 years, then developed those skills for more than 60 years. I'm good at reading people, too. I know how to push their buttons."

"You're going to scare them off with a napkin?" said Seb.

"The napkin is strictly for friends," said Walt. "Shows you a little of what I'm capable of. The Users who come to my town ready to break the bank without a thought about the attention they'll draw - not just to themselves, but to all of us, they get the full show."

"But you don't hurt them?" said Seb.

"No need," said Walt. "My art is far more subtle. What Sid used to do with plants, I can do with any physical object. I can make nightmares out of anything. When they're ready to listen, I let them know there's a loose hierarchy among Users. We each have our patch, we look after ourselves, but we don't tread on anyone's toes. Newer Users often get a bit of a god complex at first. Sometimes a quiet word is all that's needed to bring them back down to earth. Some need a brief demonstration of exactly how far down the pecking order they are. They generally get the message after that, realize there's room for all of us."

"Am I going to be getting this treatment?" said Seb.

"Nope," said Walt. "You don't fit the mold. Something different about you. I watch new Users arrive. It's like they're twisting the dimmer switch on a light. First just a glow, then it gradually gets brighter as they learn to use Manna. Most Users flicker and disappear, either unaware of their abilities or unable to find out how to develop them, how to replenish the supply when they need to. The tiny minority that become regular Users stick mostly close to home, are cautious about being discovered. Only a few of them develop their power more fully. Some of those join the Order and disappear off the map. The others are almost all mentored as I was. Two or three a year - in America at least - learn about Manna on their own. Their raw natural talent is always strong, but they don't develop much control, as a rule."

"Yeah, well I fixed your car after I wrecked it," said Seb.

"You did," said Walt. "And you shouldn't have anything like that kind of control yet. But, like I said, you don't fit the mold. You didn't gradually light up like a dimmer switch. One second you didn't exist, the next someone flicked a switch and there you were."

Seb thought of the glowing alien figure, the gift he had given, the way he'd just vanished. He decided he would be better off letting Walt talk and not give anything away.
I know nothing about this guy.

Even without Walt's gifts, the new User in town wasn't hard to find. There was a crowd around one of the blackjack tables. Bottles of Krystal were heading for the table and everyone sitting or standing within 10 feet had a glass. Only one person was actually gambling. And she was winning. Winning big. The pile of chips next to her was tall and growing with every hand, much to the approval of the crowd. The floor manager was glowering from behind the dealer, looking for evidence of card counting but finding none. The casinos had protected themselves against counters ever since the MIT crowd had taken them for a ride in the 90s. When the floor manager saw Walt approaching, he nodded, smiled grimly and walked off without a backward glance.

The woman with all the chips was stunning. Wearing a low-cut black cocktail dress that made her look like she had just stepped off the set of the latest 007 movie, she held herself with an assurance common only among those who'd grown up able to get anything they wanted. She might have been a princess from a European family with her classic features, intelligent brown eyes under sculptured eyebrows and auburn hair looking like her stylist had only just stepped away from the blackjack table after a couple hours' intensive work. Seb had his doubts that any member of a royal family, however obscure, would display quite that amount of cleavage. She was paying for the drinks of about thirty hangers-on by flicking the occasional $1000 chip at a waitress and ordering more champagne. Seb thought that was pretty smart if you were cheating in some traditionally undetectable way. Lots of witnesses who were on her side, willing her "lucky streak" to last as long as possible, so she would keep topping up their glasses.
 

There was a king and a five showing in front of her and she tapped the table for another card. She had what looked like about $50,000 of chips riding on the outcome.
No wonder the floor manager had come down personally.
Anything above a six would bust her. The crowd held its breath, but the woman didn't even glance at the card as it was turned, signaling instead for another bottle. When the crowd saw the card and responded with gasps, murmurs and one short scream, her attention snapped back to the table. The card was the seven of clubs. Busto. As the dealer pulled the chips away, she grabbed the remains of her stack and looked sharply around the crowd. When her eyes found Walt, she froze, her gaze suddenly cold and angry. Walt nodded slightly and she stood. The crowd started to disperse disappointedly as she swept through them, heading straight for Walt and Seb.

"I'll meet you back here in an hour," said Walt before the woman reached them. Up close, she was even more stunning and the cliche about anger enhancing beauty was revealing its roots in an ancient truth. Her pulse was throbbing in her neck.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing?" she said. Walt bowed slightly, a polite smile on his lips.

"I'd be delighted to explain, my dear," he said. "Let's go somewhere a little more private, shall we? Please follow me." He walked away and she followed with the absolute self-confidence of one who knows they have nothing to fear. Seb couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for her. He was also just a tiny bit disappointed she hadn't even glanced in his direction. Not only because of her looks, but because she was someone else who could use Manna, someone he might want to talk to. He had no reason to distrust Walt - he had saved him on the train, after all - but that didn't necessarily mean his motives were pure.
He grew up a gangster, then joined a blackmailer, it's hardly a glowing resumé.
Seb decided he would try to speak to the woman before she left town. Meanwhile, he had an hour to kill. He headed for the bar, but before he'd got halfway across the casino, a huge guy with a shaved head and an earpiece stopped him.

"Excuse, me, sir," he said. His voice was so deep, Seb actually felt it in his stomach. Seb looked up at him. At six feet tall, Seb had never felt short, but his eyes were currently level with this giant's badge, which read Casino Security.

"Is there a problem?" said Seb.

"Mr. Ford wants you to join him," said the man.

"Mr. Ford?" said Seb.

"Walter Ford, sir, he said you were working with him."

Seb nodded. "Oh, sure, ok. Where is he?"

"Please follow me, sir." Seb had to take three steps to the giant's two, making him feel like a kid trying to keep up with an adult. They rounded the corner into the corridor Walt had taken with the woman. The giant knocked at a door, paused, then opened it, gesturing to Seb.

"After you, sir." Seb walked into the room. The giant followed and shut the door behind him. Walt's office was another 30 feet down the corridor, but as Seb hadn't actually seen where he went, he couldn't possibly know that. He knew for sure he was in the wrong room now. And as far as wrong rooms go, this one couldn't have been more wrong. There was no furniture at all, apart from a hospital gurney to one side with a drip attached and small man in a paramedic uniform stood next to it, holding a needle. Two other heavily muscled men in suits - one blonde, the other with a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once - stood in the middle of the room.

"Wha-," said Seb, just as the blonde man took a quick step forward, raised his arm and sprayed something at his face.

Chapter 22

Walt had a private office in every casino he worked for. Each of his rooms looked broadly the same. Old, dark furniture, a huge desk and one wall stacked with books floor to ceiling. No window. The woman walked to the desk, put her hands behind her and boosted herself onto it, crossing one leg so that a high heeled shoe dangled from her foot. Her dress rode an inch up her thighs and she smiled up at Walt.

"I'm a bit old for flirting," he said.

"You're never too old," she said, " and anyway, what makes you think I'm your junior?"

Walt walked around the desk and sat in the large leather chair. She was too confident, too assured. He started reappraising her as she smiled coquettishly at him over her shoulder. He nudged a trackpad on the desk and a computer screen blinked into life. He glanced at it.

"Ms Svetlana," he read. "You're Russian? Welcome to America."

She smiled. "Georgian, actually. I know it all seems the same to you, but, believe me, it's a very different country."

"My apologies, Ms. Svetlana," said Walt.

"Oh, do call me Sonia," she said, playing with her necklace, which brought Walt's gaze back to her cleavage. As she no doubt intended.

"Sonia," he said. "My name is Walter Ford. As you saw, I share similar abilities to the ones you were using to cheat at the tables. The casinos employ me to stop people like you ruining a profitable business. I have no objection to you staying in town for a while. There are some wonderful shows you might want to take in before moving on. However, I will have to insist that you stay away from gambling from now on. Unless you are willing to do so in the traditional way."

"Let the house win, you mean?" She stroked her red bottom lip with her index finger. Slowly. Walt swallowed. "Oh, I think I'd rather quit while I'm ahead," she said.

"Then our business is concluded," said Walt. "Just a word of advice. Be careful how and where you use your power while you're in this country. There aren't many of us and we respect each others' privacy, but we do look out for each other."

"Thank you, Mr. Ford, I will be sure to take your advice." He wondered if she was just playing with him. She had seemed angry enough on the casino floor, now she was compliant and flirtatious. Why? He stood up and walked to the door. As he did so, he heard her move behind him. There was a rustling sound.

"Mr. Ford?" she said. He turned. The dress she'd chosen for the night was of the kind of clingy material that led men to speculate as to the existence - or otherwise - of underwear. The dress was now on the floor, so Walt had no further need to speculate. She hadn't worn any underwear.

"No need to rush back, is there?" she said, smiling.

***

Seb began to tense, but as the spray came toward his face, it seemed to freeze in mid-air. Seb could see individual droplets in the fine mist. He realized they were still moving, just incredibly slowly, the kind of super slo-mo he had recently seen in a TV documentary about bees, which made every beat of their tiny wings last two or three seconds. At the same time he felt a prickling sensation in his head and the room seemed to brighten, every detail standing out. The spray, the frowning face of the man behind it, the paramedic and the other man, standing still but alert and ready; the giant behind him, close enough that Seb could feel the guy's jacket lapel touching his right shoulder. It was as if he could pay attention to everything simultaneously rather than have to focus on one thing at a time. It was dream-like in its surreality, but unlike a dream in that everything seemed more solid more real, more
there.
So when he heard the voice in his head, Seb wasn't the least surprised.

"If you're feeling wired, it's mostly because whole areas of your brain have just gone dark," said Seb2.

"You pick your moments," said Seb, marveling briefly about how preternaturally calm he felt.

"Yeah, well it seems the fact I - you - we - have been a regular human being for 32 years means we're still thinking and behaving like one. I haven't been able to communicate with you unless there's a moment of great enough stress to make you lose consciousness."

"I'm conscious now," said Seb.

"Yep," said Seb2. "We're improving. This is much more useful. Now shut up, this isn't the time. You need to win this fight."

"There are four of them!" said Seb. "One's got a needle, Blondie and Broken Nose in front look like they live in a gym and the guy behind me could kill me just by sitting on me. Hang on - don't tell me - I know kung fu?"

"Don't be a pillock," said Seb2. Mee had taught Seb many of Britain's more unusual insults and he relished any opportunity to use them. "You can only use knowledge you actually possess. So I kinda wish you had signed up for self-defense classes, but we'll work with what we've got."

"Slowing down time is a neat trick," said Seb, "but I'm still gonna be just as unconscious when that hits my face." The droplets were closer now. Seb realized he could see the giant's reflection in them.

 
"I didn't slow down time," said Seb2, "but the only areas of your brain now firing synapses are those essential for strategy. I've also increased your adrenaline to an almost dangerous level. Your perception of time is massively skewed because your brain is making calculations fast. Real fast. Now shut up and do as I say."

"Yes, sir," said Seb.

"Ok, two immediate problems - the spray and the huge guy behind you. Duck to your left and drive your right elbow backward."

Seb ducked to the side, wrapped his left hand over his right fist and yanked his elbow backward as hard as he could. The bony end of his elbow made contact precisely with the giant's testicles and, as Seb continued moving left, the huge figure folded in agony, taking a short, ragged involuntary breath as he hunched over. By that point, his face was squarely in the cloud of vapor. His eyes unfocused, his limbs slackened and he pitched forward as he lost consciousness. His fall took him directly into the path of the one with the spray, who spun to his right to avoid him.