After a minute or two, a third guard climbed on the bus. He stopped on the entry stairs and leaned against the handrail. “We apologize for any inconvenience, but this tour is over.” He made a motion and the two guards promptly followed him down the stairs and off the bus.
The bus immediately started up and began moving. Even though they were now free of the guards, no one spoke on the journey home.
The bus dropped Aaron off at his hotel just as the sun was going down. He exited without a word. He’d already taken several steps toward the hotel entrance when he remembered seeing Eric and Thomas the night before. He stopped and looked around. The front of the hotel was deserted, but the bars and cafés across the street were already starting to see some business. They were not packed by no means, but some of the sidewalk tables were already occupied. He quickly scanned the crowd but did not recognize anybody.
Aaron turned back toward the hotel, breathing a sigh of relief. It was all foolishness anyway. He didn’t think Eric and Thomas had seen him and, even if they had, he doubted they would want anything to do with him. Those two had too many credits to spend, at least for a while. He was quite sure they would burn through their money.
Entering the hotel, he noticed with disgust that the sickly looking man was back on duty. Aaron waved but did not stop. He hurried on to the stairs and then began the arduous climb to his room.
Upon entering his room, the first thing he checked was the wall safe. He was immensely relieved to see that his possessions were still there and had not been tampered with. He wouldn’t have put it past this dive of a hotel to rip him off.
Satisfied that everything was as it was supposed to be, Aaron moved over and sat on the edge of the bed. He began to run through the day’s events, carefully going over everything that had happened around Hilltop.
In all honesty, it was rather depressing. The security detail had been overly thorough, and they had paid him a bit too much attention. They would not soon forget him, of that he was sure.
He leaned forward and rubbed his face. His stomach growled, and Aaron realized it had been hours since he had eaten that piss-poor excuse of a lunch on the tour. He momentarily considered ordering room service, but immediately dismissed that idea for two reasons. This hotel was not the cleanest and he greatly feared what the state of the kitchen might be. Secondly, he was rather afraid the sickly looking receptionist might have a hand in delivering his food.
Aaron climbed to his feet and moved to the wall safe. He strapped on his shoulder holster containing one of the small Oliver handguns, put on a jacket, and exited his room.
He left the hotel and walked the short distance to a café. He didn’t fancy eating at one of the establishments directly across from the hotel, so he walked for a while. The night was cool but not too cold. Enjoying the weather, he walked several blocks and ate a surprisingly good meal at a small café. He refused to eat on the street, once again that was the paranoid side of him talking, but he still got a decent view from a small table inside.
Once his meal was complete, he returned to the small hotel. He was alert the whole time for anything out of the ordinary. No one watched him, followed him, or paid him any more attention than normal. And there wasn’t any repeat sighting of Eric or Thomas.
Chapter 16
Aaron woke early the next morning. He quickly showered and dressed, leaving his room with the sun just starting to poke over the hills. This time he did take one of the Oliver handguns. He wore it in the leg holster; he felt there would be too much danger in going about unarmed.
The sickly man had left sometime in the night and Betty was manning the receptionist desk once again.
Aaron smiled as he walked up to her. He never got the chance to speak, though, as she squealed at the sight of him.
“Oh, Mr. Folstom. I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday on the tour. I hope you weren’t too shaken up.”
He blinked at the unexpected greeting but quickly caught on to what she was referring to. “Uh, no. I had the good sense to follow the orders of the gun-wielding men.” He shrugged. “Some of the others in my group were not so lucky. A couple of them got knocked around a bit.”
Betty shook her head, looking appropriately horrified.
There was something else. It took Aaron a moment to realize that Betty seemed a bit off. He wasn’t sure what was the matter, but his mind began jumping around, trying to determine what was wrong. Something occurred to him then. He wasn’t sure if it was what was bothering Betty or not, but he asked the question anyway.
“Will I be getting a refund on the tour?”
Betty sighed and dropped her eyes.
Aaron wasn’t sure, but he thought it was the question she had been waiting on, and it made sense.
“Well, I’ve called the tour already, but they are only offering a one-third refund. They say that since you saw the first two sites they don’t owe you anything for them.” She quit speaking and looked up at him. Her eyes showed wariness.
Aaron didn’t say anything; he just stared at her. It was a tactic he used frequently when dealing with nervous people. Sometimes it was easier just to be quiet and let his opponent do all the talking.
Betty dropped her eyes again. “I’ve also spoken to the hotel management and they said it has nothing to do with them.”
Honestly, Aaron didn’t give two shits about the handful of credits, but it was all about appearances. If he shrugged and walked away, it would be an abnormal response—not the thing to do when he acting the typical tourist.
“Even though their hotel recommended the tour and even made the reservation?” he asked.
Betty looked up and nodded.
Aaron took a deep breath, beginning to get a bit angry in spite of himself. “Ask them to discuss this with their legal counsel and then get back to me,” he said. He waited another moment for Betty to nod, and then he turned and strode from the hotel.
Once outside, Aaron paused to scan the street, but everything appeared to be as it should be. He started walking in the same direction he had gone last night. Two blocks short of last night’s café was a tube station. He descended the stairs two at a time until he emerged into the station proper.
The station was quite crowded due to the early-morning rush, but it still only took a few minutes for Aaron to buy a ticket and board his train. He was going against the flow of traffic and nearly had the entire car to himself. The only other travelers were three young men—kids, really. He could tell they were trouble from the moment he laid eyes on them. It seemed that the feeling was mutual though, as the three men kept a wary eye in his direction but didn’t move any closer. Aaron was pleasantly surprised when the three got off at the first stop; he had half-expected them to try and start trouble.
He took the tube all the way to the edge of Oldtown. There simply were not any stops within Oldtown’s borders, as the tube would have interfered too much with the old way of building. Actually it pleased Aaron that he was at the edge of Oldtown. He wanted to gather more information, but he didn’t much fancy getting too close to Hilltop just yet.
He emerged into the morning sun and looked around. Oldtown stretched away to his right and the streets were packed with people coming and going; quite a few of them were strangers like him.
Taxis moved here and there, but that would have defeated Aaron’s purpose. Turning, he strode into the busy streets, mingling with the crowds.
He walked the streets for several hours. Most of the places around the tube station were meant for the tourists and he headed away as quickly as possible. Even so it seemed that every store and shop sold useless crap intended for visitors. He continued walking, pushing farther into the heart of Oldtown. He wasn’t worried about coming across the security of yesterday. Hilltop was in the northern part of Oldtown, and he was miles away.
He grabbed a bite to eat from a small stand that was roasting meat on the side of the road. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it tasted good. When he was done he began w
alking the streets again. He wandered aimlessly, hoping for any inspiration.
It took a while, but he finally got away from the more touristy areas. He soon realized that most of the tourists were dressed as he was—simple shirt and pants, but the locals had their own style of dress. The men wore a long, brown robe with a simple hood.
The farther Aaron walked, the less tourists he saw. When he had started out, the locals had been few and far between, but now it was the tourists that were growing scarce. It wasn’t long before the locals watched Aaron with suspicion.
Late in the afternoon, Aaron stopped for dinner at a small pub. The interior was dark when Aaron stepped through and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. All talking cut off as he entered.
Once his eyes adjusted he noticed the pub was about half full, maybe twenty patrons scattered between the tables and bar. Everyone was watching him.
He descended the two steps from the door and started across toward the bar. Two young men stood from their table and blocked his path. The one on the left was short, but muscular. He had the look of someone who knew how to handle himself. The guy on the right was bigger, but looked less sure. Of the two he thought the shorter guy was the more dangerous.
“You’re not welcome here,” the shorter guy said.
“Really? Seems strange that the owner would be turning away paying customers,” Aaron replied. He could easily take these two punks and he knew it, but he still wanted to keep a low-profile. Furthermore, if the rest of the patrons joined in the fight, then he would be in serious trouble.
“Leave him alone!” a voice called from the area of the bar.
Both punks looked in the direction of the voice, surprise evident on their faces.
“You letting filthy tourists eat here now?” the shorter of the two demanded.
“Shut up, you little bastard,” the speaker called back. “Sit down and eat your food or leave.”
Aaron finally saw the speaker this time. It was an old man behind the bar. He was slim and wiry. He had a full head of white hair and a neatly trimmed beard. It was a bit surprising. The old man wouldn’t have stood a chance against either man in a fight, but the two reluctantly sat back down. They didn’t seem too happy about it though.
Aaron slipped through the rest of the patrons and took the last seat at the far right end of the bar. He had this section all to himself.
He wasn’t sure what to expect. He half-expected the bartender to ignore him, but he didn’t. The old man walked over and nodded politely at him.
“Please forgive my two sons. They think they know what’s best for my bar.”
“Of course. I was not trying to cause problems.” If the two punks were his children then that explained why they had backed down so easily.
“No, I don’t think you were, but you were ready for a fight, weren’t you?”
Aaron shrugged. “I can handle myself.”
The old man smiled. “I know you can. I can tell just by looking at you. Perhaps one day my sons will be able to spot it as well.” He paused and touched his chest with his left hand. “My name is Ben. What can I get for you?” he asked.
“Well, Ben. First of all, my name is Aaron, and I would love something to eat.”
“Of course,” Ben answered, “but first you need a drink.” He retrieved a glass and poured a clear liquid into it from a bottle. He smiled and placed it in front of Aaron.
Aaron looked down at the glass dubiously. “What is it?” he asked.
Ben laughed. “Liquor. It’s made locally.” He leaned over the bar and said quietly, “I assure you it’s fine.”
Aaron was less than convinced, but not wanting to offend his host, he picked up the glass, sniffed it, and then took a sip. The liquid burned the whole way down but not in a bad way. Aaron took a deep breath, his eyes watering a bit.
Ben grinned and excused himself, leaving Aaron to look around the bar. There wasn’t much to the place; ten or so tables and the bar along this side of the room. A fair number of the customers were watching Aaron with suspicion. He chose to ignore them.
After a few minutes, Ben returned carrying a plate that was loaded down with food. It resembled a roast, but Aaron couldn’t recognize the meat or vegetables. There also were a couple of cakes of something similar to bread. He took a tentative bite and found the food quite tasty. He was just starting to attack the food with gusto when Ben spoke again.
“What are you doing here?”
Aaron paused with a bit halfway to his mouth and regarded the old man. “What?” was all he managed.
“Most off-worlders that come in here are looking either for drugs or women, neither of which they will get here. What are you looking for?”
Aaron slowly lowered the food back to his plate and regarded Ben. He no longer resembled a kindly old man; he now had more of an air of a predator.
“Actually,” Aaron said quietly, “I really did come in to eat. I was starving.”
Ben studied him for a moment. “When my sons accosted you, they thought you were just another stranger looking for drugs, but I knew better. I’ve seen men like you before. Probably the worst drug you’ll do is have a drink now and then.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “You have the look of a dangerous man, so I can only think that you’re here to cause trouble.”
Aaron blinked. “Cause trouble?” he repeated slowly. “Why the hell would I want to cause trouble for you or anyone else in this dump.” Whoops, Aaron thought, probably shouldn’t call the man’s business a dump.
If Ben took offense, he didn’t show it. Instead, he silently studied Aaron for several moments and then shrugged. “My mistake. I thought you . . . well, never mind.”
“Forgive me,” Aaron said, “but I’m totally confused on what you’re talking about.”
Ben shrugged. “My brother’s a wanted man. I thought maybe you were looking for him.”
Aaron snorted. He caught the look of surprise on Ben’s face and explained, “I don’t know you or your brother, and I wouldn’t turn him in if I did. I’ve been known to step across the legal line myself on occasion.”
Ben nodded. “I find that easy to believe.”
“Tell me,” Aaron said, his eyes dropping to Ben’s clothes. “What’s the deal with the brown robes?”
Ben’s eyes followed Aaron’s and now it was his turn to look confused. “I don’t understand. The deal?”
“Yeah, it seems like the locals all wear them.”
Understanding bloomed in Ben’s eyes. “Yes, this is the way our ancestors dressed long ago. Some of us choose to continue to wear it in order to honor their memory.”
“Just in Oldtown?” Aaron asked.
“Primarily,” Ben answered, “but even here our numbers are dwindling. The new generation no longer cares about keeping the old ways. I fear our traditions will soon disappear altogether.” His eyes strayed to where his sons sat and he looked morose.
“Doesn’t it get hot during the day?” Aaron asked. The nights had been getting a bit chilly, but the days so far had been rather warm.
Ben shook his head, although he kept his eyes in the direction of his sons. “The material keeps us cool during the day and warm at night.”
“Where can I get some?” Aaron asked.
Ben slowly turned his head to look at Aaron. “Why do you want them?” he asked, and there was no mistaking the suspicion in his voice.
“I don’t know,” Aaron said lamely. “I just want to fit in.”
Snorting, Ben leaned forward and refilled Aaron’s glass. “I begin to think that you are up to no good after all.”
Sensing that a lie would be detrimental to his cause, Aaron decided to give the truth a try. “What I am up to will have no effect on you or yours. I just need to be able to move around Oldtown without drawing suspicion.”
“Really?” Ben asked. “What part of Oldtown?” His eyes were sharp and penetrating, almost daring Aaron to lie to him.
Aaron didn’t want to lie, but he sur
e as hell wasn’t going to tell the truth. He decided on a compromise. “It doesn’t matter, but I would be willing to buy some of those clothes.”
Ben nodded. “I have been around a very long time, I’ve seen men like you come and go, and I’m no fool.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I stay informed on what’s going on in my city. The only thing that I can think of that would interest one such as you is the wedding of the Woodson kid.”
Aaron fought hard to not react but inside he was spinning. He desperately wanted to make sure there weren’t any signs pointing back to him. This man’s dangerous, he thought. I need to get away from here.
“Look,” Aaron said, starting to push away from the bar, “I don’t want any trouble.”
Ben’s hand shot out and grabbed Aaron by the wrist.
Aaron glanced in the direction of the other patrons, but strangely enough, none of them were watching him and Ben.
“You misunderstand me,” Ben said quietly. He also looked toward the rest of the pub. “Come. Let’s talk in back.” He released his hold on Aaron’s wrist and stepped out from behind the bar. He took two long steps and passed through a doorway at the end of the bar.
Aaron was unsure of what to do. His initial instinct was to make a break for the door, but that might cause the other patrons to try and stop him. Even if he made it, Ben would suspect that he was going to cause problems at the wedding.
Sighing, Aaron stood up and straightened his clothes. He flexed his leg and felt the reassuring pressure from his ankle holster; unfortunately, it was not all that easy to retrieve the weapon. Oh, how he wished he had the Horace strapped to his hip.
He took one more look around the room and followed Ben through the doorway.
He stepped into a small office space. Ben sat in a chair behind a small desk directly in front of the doorway. There were two empty chairs, one to either side of the doorway. A couple of shelves and some boxes were the only other things in the small room.
Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two Page 13
