“Yes, I know. That was very kind of Vinnie to provide free transport, wasn’t it?”
“Can I ask why this broker isn’t charging for the use of the sled?”
“I think it’s because he’s grateful to me for helping him deal with his insomnia.”
“You have some interesting friends and clients.”
“I am very fortunate in that regard.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“What’s another way?” she asked, curious.
“Has it ever occurred to you that some of your friends and clients might be dangerous?”
“So far none of them has tried to kidnap me or lock me up in an insane asylum.”
“Fair point.”
The heavy door swung open. They moved into a dark, musty basement.
The sled had been waiting for them when they exited the underground passage beneath the Amber Palace. The small vehicle was about the size and shape of a golf cart. It was powered by a simple amber motor because more sophisticated technology did not function reliably in the psi-heavy atmosphere of the tunnels. The result was that top speed in a sled was only a little faster than a human could run, but it beat walking.
Alice swept the flashlight on her phone around the basement. The space was littered with old-fashioned slot machines, discarded card tables, and broken stage furnishings.
“This looks like a dumping ground for worn-out casino stuff,” she said.
“Yes, it does,” Owen said.
Sebastian chortled, wriggled out from under Alice’s arm, and bounced down to the floor.
“There’s no time to look for souvenirs, Sebastian,” she said. “We’re here on business.”
Evidently grasping the concept, he contented himself with a few quick forays into the jungle of old gambling paraphernalia. He reappeared when she and Owen started up the basement stairs.
When they reached the ground floor, they found themselves in the ruins of a long-abandoned nightclub. Owen checked his locator.
“The address we’re looking for is about four blocks from here,” he said.
He clipped the locator onto his belt and headed for the door. Sebastian, evidently opting for the better view, bounced onto his shoulder and chortled enthusiastically.
Alice followed man and dust bunny out into a narrow alley. It was midmorning, so the fog had thinned somewhat, but it never disappeared in the Shadow Zone. She could barely make out the opening at the far end of the blind alley. The locals joked that the ever-present mist provided ambience. It also provided cover for various shady activities at all hours, day or night. They said you could buy anything in the Shadow Zone—if you were willing to pay the price.
The zone did offer some advantages when it came to rents. You got what you paid for, but if you didn’t mind shabby accommodations in a dicey neighborhood, there were bargains to be had. Carl Voyle’s former residence proved to be a good example.
The small run-down apartment building was a three-story structure on a narrow street. The manager, a middle-aged man with sparse gray hair and a stocky build, came to the door in a stained white T-shirt and baggy trousers. He was not happy to have visitors, but he took the cash Owen offered with a grudging attitude.
“Nah, I haven’t seen Voyle for a couple of days,” he said. “Took off in his car a while back. Don’t know where he was going. Around here, you don’t ask questions like that. But his weekly rent is due today, and now I’ve got to wonder if he skipped out so he wouldn’t have to face me.”
“It’s safe to say Mr. Voyle won’t be back,” Owen said. “My wife and I are interested in an inexpensive rental here in the Shadow Zone. Do you mind if we take a look at Voyle’s apartment?”
The manager’s thick features screwed up into a suspicious mask. “Why in green hell would a nice couple like you two want to rent an apartment in the Shadow Zone?”
“We thought it would be fun to have a little pied-à-terre here,” Alice said brightly.
The manager went blank. “A what?”
“Forget it,” Owen said. He took out his wallet again. “Do you mind if we check out Voyle’s place? It won’t take long.”
