laced fingers over her shins, like an armadillo rolling into a protective ball. She had come to terms long ago that her being a sex symbol meant she was the object of lust for hundreds or even thousands of men. Among these men, inevitably, were the sadists and the unbalanced and the deranged. For them, she knew, she was the object of rape fantasies or perhaps even worse. The similarity of this room to her own had initially been comforting, but now, facing the reality that someone had obviously spent time making this likeness and had therefore seen—or perhaps even been in—her bedroom, it was terrifying.
She sat like that, listening to footsteps, her mind wildly running through worst-case and best-case scenarios of what was happening. She heard the footsteps approaching, finally reaching the door. The bolt pulled back and the door opened. She tried to push farther back on the bed. A small, lean man with dark skin—like an Indian, Nora thought—entered carrying a tray with breakfast on it. He wore tweed pants and a sleeveless undershirt. He placed the tray on a table next to the door.
“Who’re you?” she asked, recognizing him as the man who had watched her at the club. She surprised herself with the composure of her voice.
He gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.” His voice was soft and carried an accent that she couldn’t place.
“Why am I here?”
He smiled again. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to you. I will keep you as comfortable as possible. This is not about you.”
“I don’t guess you would tell me what it is about?”
“Sadly, no, other than to assure you that it does not involve harming you. We merely need you here for a short while. Please enjoy your food. Knock on the door if you desire anything.”
He turned away from her and she saw how his undershirt bridged the depression between the muscles on either side of his spine. He turned back again.
“Miss Aspen. You are lovelier by far here, in person, than you are on the stage. Please do not worry about your safety. I would not allow anyone to harm you.”
He left. His words, uttered by someone else, might have been creepy or threatening. But something about this man made her feel safe and comfortable, and she ate her meal in serenity.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Puskis was two blocks from City Hall when an ASU officer intercepted him.
“Mr. Puskis?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad we’ve found you, sir.”
“Found me?”
The officer was young and earnest. “Yes, sir. When you didn’t show up for work, they sent us out searching.”
Odd, Puskis thought. Then again, he hadn’t been late for work in nearly two decades. They must be wondering why now. Why does he go missing as soon as we unveil the new Retrievorator? And, as Van Vossen had said, he was more important to them now than he had ever been.
He allowed the young officer to lead him back to City Hall, noticing how the other pedestrians gave them considerable room to pass. The officer seemed oblivious of this effect, though, as an ASU officer, he most likely took it for granted.
At City Hall, a contingent of ASU officers along with two men who Puskis recognized from the mayor’s staff met them.
“Mr. Puskis,” said one of the mayor’s men, “where have you been?” He was a huge man in a pin-striped suit that might have been cut for a bear.
Puskis hesitated. Had he been watched? Did they already know where he was or would they be able to find out later? What were the consequences of lying? He was not used to making quick decisions. Nothing was ever split-second in the Vaults. “I, uh, I went for a walk.” It was slow coming out and everyone knew it was a lie.
The big man looked at him menacingly. “A walk? You’ve never been late for work as far as anyone can remember. Why did you go for a walk today, Mr. Puskis?”
Today of all days.
The big man’s words had given him time to think. “I received some news yesterday that required contemplation. News that affects my work in the Vaults. On the way to work I decided to take a walk to, well, to clear my head. I assumed that my record of punctuality would allow me one transgression.”
The big man was not satisfied but apparently decided not to pursue it further. “You see, Mr. Puskis, we were particularly concerned because we believe that you may be under threat.”
“Under threat?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m sure that you’ve