OCEAN SPRAY HIT GOMEZ in the face as his watertaxi zoomed over the glittering blue sea toward Lazarus Cay. It was, all in all, a very believable illusion.
As the taxi docked, its voxbox said, “Have a nice day.”
“I intend to.” Gomez, still wearing the Newz blazer, climbed up the yellow neowood steps to the impressive white beach.
On a pedestal a few yards off stood a larger-than-life android replica of the entrepreneur Sunny Lazarus. “Hi there, fella,” called the android. “Welcome to my island. I’m Sunny Lazarus.”
“I didn’t realize you were this tall,” commented Gomez as he approached the figure on the pedestal.
“What sort of fun did you have in mind?” The android was nearly eight feet tall and had blond wavy hair, a deep tan, and a spotless white suit. “Would you like to try an exciting and scrupulously honest game of chance in my entirely refurbished posh casino? Or, if gaming isn’t your cup of tea, there’s the gala Lazarus Follies in the grand—”
“Actually, I’m on a more serious mission. Which way is the cemetery?”
“Hey, you’re absolutely right. It isn’t all fun on Lazarus Cay. No indeed,” said the android. “I also offer the best-equipped crematorium in the universe and one of the loveliest cemeteries. Are you, I imagine, paying a visit to a loved one?”
“I’m just anxious to browse around. I’m getting along in years and I decided it’s time to start contemplating my own final—”
“A wise move, fella, a very wise move. And I can promise you we’ll come up with a purchase plan that’s just right for your pocketbook.” The big android pointed to his right. “What you want is Pathway 3. Should you have any questions along the route, why, there are plenty Sunny Lazaruses around to help you out. I may be a very important and wealthy man, yet I’m never too busy to lend a hand.”
“Much obliged.” Gomez took the indicated path, which wound through a dense simulated jungle.
Midway along the wide pathway he encountered another Sunny Lazarus on a pedestal.
“Hi there, fella. Feeling gloomy, I’ll bet.”
“I am, sí. Talking to too many andies in a row always does that to me.”
“Hey, no, fella, you’re missing my point. I was being sympathetic because you’re obviously on the way to our impressive, well-maintained cemetery. Not a happy occasion, and thus—”
“Truth to tell, I’m visiting the crypt of an uncle who died and left me several million dollars. I’m happy as a clam.” Smiling, he continued on his way.
The cemetery stood in a well-groomed three-acre clearing. Pausing at the high, wrought-iron gateway, Gomez scanned the place. Then, nodding, he started along a graveled path that led to a sparkling fountain.
Hunched up on a white bench amidst the gravemarkers sat a small, frail man bundled up in a heavy plaid thermocoat. “You took your sweet time getting here, Gomez.”
“I rushed here soon as I got your message, Chill.” He sat next to the informant.
Frowning at the plashing fountain, Chill Kaminsky said, “I been freezing my ass off out here.”
“I had a similar experience in Paris recently,” confided Gomez. “Although, if you don’t mind my saying so, the Caribbean Colony strikes me as being a bit on the warmish side.”
“You know I got a tricky metabolism.”
“Sí. Now, where’s Dr. Danenberg?”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s why I buzzed you, Gomez,” he explained. “I tailed the lady to that big floral shop over there by that row of tombs. She went in about two hours back but she never came out.”
“And she isn’t still within?”
“Naw. I went in finally to price some gladiolas,” said Chill. “Not a trace of her, and I nosed around thoroughly.”
“I’d best wander in and see what I can learn.”
“Pay me first so I can get home and warm up.”
Gomez passed him two $100 Banx notes. “Gracias, Chill.”
The informant got up, buttoned the thermocoat up to his chin, and went shuffling away across the green fields of the Lazarus Cay Cemetery.
Rising, Gomez brushed at the Newz crest on his breast pocket. He went strolling along a path that led to the domed flower shop.
He pushed through the opaque plastiglass door and was surrounded by the powerful scent of hundreds of unseen flowers. “Howdy, I’m a roving reporter with Newz and I think there might be a dandy human interest story in ... But perhaps not.”
He’d noticed that the burly clerk behind the counter had drawn a lazgun.
He didn’t feel as good as he usually did.
Usually, whenever he was alive again, the Richard Lofton android felt just fine. He’d concentrate on breathing in and out and everything was great. It was almost as though he’d never died at all.
Down here now, deep in the bowels of the Caribbean Colony, he didn’t feel all that happy. Sure, he’d been doing his job very well. The stupid wig Marj had made him wear and the expensive tourist suit had fooled everybody.
No one had looked at him funny. He’d checked into a nice hotel and then set about his business.
So far he’d only had to use his stungun on one person. That was the stupid woman who managed this Central Computer Room way down here. He hadn’t been able to con her the way he had the others.
But he’d fiddled with the secsystem in a way his sister had taught him, so nobody would suspect anything was wrong for several hours.
What he was unhappy about was that his sister had had to fool around with Jake Cardigan.
He wasn’t exactly jealous, but he just didn’t like the idea.
Shaking his head, he walked along a metallic corridor and into the small room that housed the main computer for the entire colony.
“She didn’t have to hop in bed with the guy,” Richard said to himself as he glanced around the cold, gray-walled room. “We’re smart, Sis and I. We always find them.”
He seated himself at a screen, massaging his knuckles while he studied the keyboard.
If you asked the computer the right questions in the right way, you could find out anything.
And Marj had drilled him, over and over, on just exactly how to ask the questions.
He sat there, smiling faintly, breathing evenly in and out.
This computer was going to tell him, sooner or later, just where Bennett Sands was hiding here on the satellite.
That made Richard feel a little better, but not as good as he ought to feel.