Chapter 60 Chapter Six

It was clearly not in the same class as the pub I and Jonny had been to in Whale Heart, without the imitation wood and faux copper.The place was tucked away on the second floor of a decaying building in a run-down neighborhood two blocks away from the revived library where Jenny was staying.Even on his way back to Far Chuan Plaza, Johnny would never stop by this place, but if he wanted to meet someone near the library—someone he wanted to talk to in private, then He just chose the right place to end his life. I've been there for six hours and I'm fucking sick of pickled nuts and license beer.At this moment, a homeless old man walked into the bar.I guess he's a regular here, and you can tell by the way he looks at it: he didn't stop at the door, didn't look either way, but went straight to a small table in the back, before the waiter hadn't quite finished. When they stopped in front of him, they ordered a glass of whiskey.I walked over and stood next to him, and I realized he wasn't exactly a bum, these dirty men and women I'd seen in the junk shops and street stalls around here, but he wasn't like them.He looked up and squinted at me with a proud look on his face.

"Can I sit here?" "That depends, sister. What are you selling?" "I wanted to do some shopping," I sat down, put the beer mug on the table, and showed him a license photo that Johnny had taken when he entered the drop-off gate at the Whale Center. "Have you seen this man?" The old man stared at the picture, swayed, and then returned his full attention to his whiskey. "Maybe." I waved to the mechanic and told him to come and have another drink. "If you saw him, today is your lucky day." The old man snored and wiped the gray stubble on his face with the back of his hand. "If it is, it's the first time in a fucking long time," he stared at me, "how much? for what?"

"I buy information. How much depends on what information you provide. Have you met him?" I took out a black-market fifty-mark note from my jacket pocket. "Ah, of course I have." Half of the bill was lying on the table, and half was clutched in my hand. "when?" "Last Tuesday. Tuesday morning." That's right, that's the day.I slipped him fifty marks and pulled out another note. "Is he alone?" The old man licked his lips. "Let me think about it. I don't think... no, he's sitting there," he pointed to a table in the back, "and there are two other people with him. I remember now."

"what?" The old man twirled his index finger and thumb, this greedy action is extremely ancient. "Tell me, who are those two people." I coaxed. "The young guy...that's who you said...he was with one of those two, you know, those robed monsters of nature. You see them all the time on holograms. They're with They damn trees." Trees? "Saint?" I said, startled.What are the saints doing at the bar on Arrow of Revival?If he's stalking Jonny, why is he wearing a robe?It's like a murderer doing business in a clown suit. "Yes. Saint. Wearing a brown robe, he looks like an Oriental."

"male?" "Yes, I'm sure." "Can you tell me more?" "No, saint, big son of a bitch. Can't see his face." "What about the other person?" The old man shrugged.I took out another bill and put both next to my glass. "Did they come in together?" I asked. "Three?" "I don't remember... I can't help... No, wait. The guy you said and the saint came in first. I remember seeing the robe first, and then the other one sat down." "Tell me about the other man." The old man waved to the mechanic and accepted him for the third cup.I paid for him with my card and then slid away with the seed wheel chattering in my ears.

"Like you," he said, "kind of like you." "Short?" I said. "Strong arms and legs? Lutherian?" "Yes. I guess. I've never been there." "anything else?" "No hair," said the old man, "just a thing like my niece used to have. A ponytail." "Braids," I said. "Yeah, whatever." He started reaching for the bills. "A few more questions. Did they argue?" "No. I don't think so. They're really soft-spoken. That day—there weren't many people." "What time is that day?"

"Morning. About ten o'clock." Consistent with the code on the credit card. "Did you hear any conversation?" "Well no." "Who talks the most?" The old man took a sip of his wine, frowned, and racked his brains. "The saint said it first. The guy you're talking about seems to be answering. I saw him look surprised once." "scared?" "Uh no, just surprise. Seems like the man in the robe said something he wasn't expecting." "You mean, it was the saints who spoke in the beginning. Who was it then? The people I spoke of?"

"Uh no, the guy with the ponytail. And then they're gone." "All three left?" "No. Just the dick and ponytail you mentioned." "Have the saints stayed?" "Yes, I guess so. I think so. I went to the brothel. When I came back he wasn't there." "Which way did the other two go?" "Damn, I don't know. I didn't pay much attention to them. I was drinking, not being a spy!" I nod.The mechanic wobbled around again, and I waved him away.The old man stared angrily at his back. "So, weren't they arguing when they left? Was there any sign of discord? Or was one trying to force the other out?"

"Who?" "I'm talking about people and braids." "Uh no. Oh shit, I don't know." He looked down at the banknotes in his dirty hand, at the whiskey on the mechanic's display board, maybe, he'll never get more money from me . "Why on earth do you want to know about this shit?" "I'm looking for this guy," I told him.I look around the bar.There were about twenty customers sitting at the table.Most looked like regulars from the neighborhood. "Is anyone else here seeing them? Or, do you remember who else was here that day?"

"No." He said stupidly.Then I realized that the old guy's eyes were the exact color of the whiskey he was drinking. I got up and put the last twenty-mark note on the table. "Man, thanks." "At your service, sister." The mechanic rolled towards him and I came to the door. I walked towards the library and stayed for a minute in the lively Yuanchuan Square.So far it has gone like this: It was morning, and Johnny had just arrived here at that time, and then he met the saint, or the saint approached him; Outside.They went to some hidden place to talk, namely a bar, and the saint said something that surprised Johnny.A man with braids—probably a Lutheran—appears and takes up the conversation.Johnny and Braid leave together.Sometime after that, Jonny travels to Whaleheart, and from there with another person—maybe a braid, or maybe a saint—to Modi, where that person tries to kill Jonny .It did kill him.

Too much white space.Too much "someone".It's not so much at all, and it can't be done in one day. I was contemplating whether to teleport back to Lusus when suddenly my comlog chirped, using the restricted comm frequency that I had given to Johnny. His voice sounded painful. "Ms. Lamia. Please... come here quickly. I think they are trying... to kill me again." The following coordinates pointed directly to the eastern part of Bergson's Hive. I run to the teleporter. There was a crack in Johnny's cubicle.There was no one in the passage, not a sound in the apartment.Whatever happened, it hasn't alarmed management yet. I took my father's automatic pistol from my coat pocket, raised it into the room, and with a click of my hand, turned on the laser aiming beam. I lowered my body and sneaked into the room, gun raised with both arms, red dots slid across the black walls, past cheap engravings on the far wall, a black passage leading to the small room.The lounge was empty.The living room and media area was deserted. Johnny lay on the bedroom floor with his head resting against the edge of the bed.Blood soaked the bedding.He struggled to stand up, and then fell down feebly.The balcony sliding door behind him was wide open, and the bitter cold wind blew in from the opposite shopping mall. I checked the his-suite, the short hallway, the kitchen alcove, then went back to the bedroom and out onto the balcony.Standing on the commanding height of two hundred meters, the scene in front of me is really spectacular. The curved honeycomb wall goes straight up, overlooking the ten to twenty kilometers of moat shopping mall.A hundred meters above the head is the roof of the beehive, a large pile of black steel girders.Thousands of lights flashed in the mall, commercial holograms, and neon lights, all of which joined the army of bright lights in the distance. On this wall of the hive, there are hundreds of identical balconies, all abandoned.The last one is twenty meters away.These balconies, a source of added benefit to the letting agent - God knows Johnny probably paid extra for a lot of the outside rooms - these balconies are just superfluous, with a fierce cold wind rushing up towards the transom with coarse sand in it and debris, with the everlasting smell of honeycomb oil and ozone. I put away the pistol and walked back into the room to see if Johnny was all right. The wound stretched from his hairline to his eyebrows. It was only a skin trauma, but it was bloody.I went to the bathroom to get some antiseptic dry pads and when he came back he was sitting up and I pressed the pads over his wound. "What's going on?" I asked. "When I got home there were two men...waiting in the bedroom. They had climbed in through the door on the balcony side and dodged the siren." "The security tax you paid is totally useless and they should refund it," I said. "And then?" "We got into a fight. They seemed to be dragging me towards the door. One of them had a syringe and I knocked it out of his hand and onto the floor." "Then how did they leave?" "I set off the house alarm." "Not a hive security alarm?" "No. I don't want to involve the police." "Who beat you like this?" Johnny smiled shyly. "I did it myself. They let me go and I tried to run after them. Then I tripped and hit my head on the bedside table." "Both lose," I said, turning on the light.Then checked the carpet and found the syringe, which had rolled under the bed. Johnny watched it as if he were watching a poisonous snake. "Guess what?" I said. "HIV-2 again, isn't it?" He shook his head. "I know a place where I can analyze it," I said, "but I guess it's just a tranquilizer. They just want to take you away...not kill you." Johnny tore off the dry pad, grinning in pain.The wound was still bleeding. "Why are these people kidnapping the Cybermen?" "It's up to you to answer. I have come to believe that these so-called murders are just botched kidnappings." Johnny shook his head again. I asked him, "Among the two, does anyone have braids?" "I don't know. They're wearing hats and breathing masks." "Is there anyone as tall as a Saint? Or as strong as a Lutherian?" "Saints?" Johnny looked surprised. "No. One of them is about the average height of the ring. The other one with the syringe is probably a Lutherian. Very strong." "So you're going to go after this Lusus with your bare hands? Do you have any bioprocessors or afterburner implants that I don't know about?" "No. I must have lost my mind." I helped him to stand up. "So, the artificial intelligence will also be angry?" "As far as I'm concerned, yes." "Come on," I said, "I know of a discount automated medical clinic. You can stay with me for a while after you've seen the doctor." "Live with you? Why?" "Since you've upgraded, now, you don't just need a detective," I said, "you also need a bodyguard." My residence is not registered as a unit on the Hive District Compendium; it is a restored warehouse loft that I took over from a friend who was stalked by a loan shark.Then my friend decided to immigrate to a remote colony.I made a good deal and got this place.It's only a mile from my office hallway to my home.The environment is a bit spartan, and the noise from the loading dock can drown out any conversation at times, but the place is ten times larger than the average small house, and I feel comfortable using weight and strength training equipment at home. Yes, Johnny seemed attracted to this part of me too, and I have to scold myself for not being too happy.The next thing is, I'll put on lipstick and rouge on my face, just for this Cyberman. "I ask you, why do you want to live in Lusus?" I asked him, "Most people out of the world find it difficult to adjust to the gravity here, and the scenery here is too boring. Besides, your research materials are not Is it in the library of the Arrow of Revival? Why did you choose this place?" I watched him carefully and listened carefully as I spoke back.His hair was straight at the roots, parted in the middle, and curled auburn at the neckline.He had a habit of propping his face on his fists when he spoke.Much to my amazement, he spoke the dialect without the slightest accent, like someone who has mastered the new language, without the slack that comes with it.Behind that voice, with a little lilt, reminded me of the overtone intonation of a Snitch born on Asquith, a peaceful and impoverished world of the Rim inhabited by the First Expansion Immigrants from what was once the British Isles. "I've lived on many worlds," he said, "I exist to observe." "As a poet?" He shook his head, then tightened his body in pain, and touched the stitches carefully. "No. I'm not a poet. He is." In spite of the present state of things, I found in Johnny a spirit, a vitality, which I have seldom seen in other people.It's hard to put into words, but I've seen a lot of powerful people fill rooms, scrambling to be around someone like Jonny.Not only his silence, his sharpness, but also a kind of enthusiasm that he radiates when he just pays attention. "Why do you live here?" he asked me. "I was born here." "Yes, but you grew up in the Whale Center. Your father was a councilman." I didn't say anything. "A lot of people wanted you to go into politics," he said. "Did your father's suicide put you off?" "He didn't kill himself," I said. "no?" "The news reports and the prosecutor's report say it was suicide," I said blankly, "but they're talking nonsense. My father never committed suicide." "Then murder?" "right." "But no motive was found and no suspect was hit, was there?" "right." "I see," Johnny said.The yellow light of the pier shone in through the dusty windows, and his hair shone like new copper. "Do you like being a detective?" "Like when you're doing well," I said, "Are you hungry?" "Not hungry." "Then let's go to sleep. You can sleep on the couch." "Have you always done well?" he said, "in the detective business?" "See you tomorrow."