The Road to Hell (17 page)

Harrison walked into the kitchen of the small, rundown apartment scratching his arse with one hand and his messy hair with the other.

“
Morning, Rosie,” he said in a rough, husky voice, squinting in the bright sunlight streaming in through the open windows. Now there was a rare sight, he thought, a break in the rain.

Standing there barefoot in his boxer shorts and singlet, Harrison suddenly became acutely aware of the others crowded around the kitchen table.

Susan was sitting to one side watching as Brains and several of his geeky-friends hovered over a small holographic computer. Brains tended to attract geeks like a magnet wherever he went. This time the ‘Groupie Geeks,’ as Harrison somewhat affectionately called them, were two guys and a cute girl with glasses as thick as the one’s Brains wore. She was pretty, well, he mused, she would have been if she had some laser surgery on her eyes.

“
Morning?” Rosie asked with a smile. “It’s three in the afternoon, sunshine.”

“
I see you’re in fine form as always,” said Brains grinning from ear to ear.

Harrison should have thought about it. If the truth be known, he had thought about it but he couldn’t be bothered throwing on some trousers. He wasn’t a morning person, even when the morning had evolved into the afternoon.

“
Yeah, well. Good to see you too, Brains. Thanks for coming up to look at the cube. Anything yet?”

Harrison cringed as he waited for the reply. Hopefully it would be short and sweet and he could discreetly, although rather obviously, excuse himself and go and get dressed. Ah, well, he thought, looking at the pretty girl Brains had brought in to help crack the cube, at least she see can’t me too well. A smile drifted across his face.

“
There’s not much to go on,” replied Brains. “Hey, you’ve met Ramon and Philippe before, but I don’t think you’ve met Helen, have you?”

“
No,” said Harrison, waving a hello at Helen. Like most women he knew, she wasn’t paying him any attention at all. Helen acknowledged the introduction with a blush and a smile before continuing to discuss the cube with Ramon and Philippe. All three of them were talking at once over the top of each other, fingers pointing at the various transparent holographic images floating above the table.

“
It’s not as straight forward as I’d hoped,” said Brains.

“
Oh,” replied Harrison.

Massive amounts of zeros flashed before them in a variety of three-dimensional cubes with header sections describing the location of each array as X567-G335-H200, X567-G335-H201, and so on. How did anyone ever get interested in computers, Harrison wondered. For their part, Ramon, Philippe and Helen were chatting as rapidly as the screens flashing before them. Susan seemed to understand what was going on, but it was all Greek to Harrison.

Rosie seemed to be able to read his mind. Harrison stared across at her as he wondered how anyone ever got heard? She just shrugged her shoulders.

“
We’re getting close,” Brains said above the chatter. Susan was absorbed by the discussion. She sat there eagerly watching everything unfold.

“
Eggs over easy?” asked Rosie.

“
Sounds good,” replied Harrison as he slipped back out the door. He grabbed his trousers from the floor of the spare room. After a minute, he walked back in, trying to look like he had it all together. Nobody noticed. Nobody cared.

Rosie poured him some orange juice.

Harrison stood behind Brains looking at the holographic images, trying to pick up on the conversation. Brains should have had a splitting headache from the night before, but instead the roles were reversed. It was Harrison that should have been all peppy and chirpy. Brains should have been the one struggling to deal with the most basic of thoughts after all that moonshine, a jackhammer pounding inside his head. But somehow it never seemed to work out like that.

“
How do you do it,” asked Harrison.

“
Well,” replied Brains, “We started with a standard directory sweep and then went on to-”

“
No,” said Harrison. “I mean the hang-over. Why is it I feel like shit when I wasn’t drunk and here you are, as fresh the morning dew?”

“
Someone can’t hold his liquor,” said Brains.

“
You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if I actually had been drinking last night.”

“
You’re probably a little dehydrated,” said Susan, joining the conversation. “I didn’t see you drink anything at all yesterday.”

“
Well, thank you Dr. Susan Labree,” Harrison replied sarcastically.

“
She’s probably right, you know,” added Rosie in her southern black twang.

Harrison mumbled to himself and began rummaging through one of the cupboards looking for some painkillers.

“
Just drink some water,” said Susan.

“
Water,” replied Harrison, somewhat stubbornly. “What do you think I am? A goldfish?”

Brains smiled. There was nothing like a man’s pride standing in the way of common sense, nothing quite like it at all.

Harrison found some painkillers. The expiry date had passed two months ago, but he knocked a couple back anyway, swallowing them with the orange juice.

Rosie went back to cooking.

The smell of bacon wafted through the air.

Rubbing his eyes, Harrison cleared out the sleep, still trying to adjust to the blinding light coming in through the kitchen curtains. Outside, hover cars streamed past the 620th floor apartment. Dark clouds built on the horizon, slowly closing in on the labyrinth of tower blocks that made up lower Manhattan. It was going to be another cold wet night out there.

“
Is that your real name?” Susan asked. “Harry Harrison?”

She knew Rosie would know and was really asking her more than Harrison. She figured it wasn't, and that, for some reason, Harrison probably wouldn't tell her his real name.

“
You gonna tell her?” Rosie asked.

“
It's Harry,” Harrison replied defensively, lifting his hands with exasperation. “What's so bad about having Harry Harrison as a name?”

“
Who names their child with essentially the same first and last name?” asked Susan prying.

“
Who indeed,” added Rosie, needling him.

Brains laughed. He knew, realised Susan, but he wasn't telling either.

“
What's the big deal?” said Harrison.

Susan arced up. “Wait a minute. I was going to say that. What is the big deal? Why can't you tell us what your real name is?”

Rosie had a grin on her face.

“
That is my real name,” Harrison protested.

Rosie went to say something but Harrison cut her off, saying, “Don't. It's not funny.”

Rosie pursed her lips. And with that Susan became even more curious.

“
I'd just drop it, honey,” she said to Susan. “For a big tough detective, Harry has his soft spots.”

“
Is it like-” began Susan, but Rosie cut her off, tactfully raising her hand and signalling her to stop. Susan got the message. She was still curious, but maybe she could get it out of Rosie later. Maybe it's Horacio or Horton, she thought to herself, trying not to laugh.

“
Anyone for more coffee?” said Rosie, changing the subject. “Anyone hungry?”

No one was, but the polite acknowledgments gave Harrison just enough breathing room to escape Susan's interrogation.

Harrison sat up on the kitchen bench watching Brains and his crew at work, ignoring the banter around his name, wanting to get serious, wondering how long it would take before they got a lead.

Ah, he thought, after the conversation moved on to something else and the guys started talking in technical jargon. It was all getting old very quick. He had an active mind, one that loved to absorb facts, think about the implications and arrive at conclusions, but when it came to technology, he was like a beached whale. He sat there, getting bored.

Helen was pretty, in an academic, scholarly sort of way, he thought, quiet on the outside, probably a real vixen in the bedroom. With her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail and her hazel-brown eyes, she looked pretty.

From where he was, Harrison could see slightly inside her blouse. Not intentionally, it just worked out that way from that angle. A few loose buttons had come undone, or perhaps had been left undone for comfort. Whichever it was, it was clear the blouse was too small for her, pulling tight across her breasts, showing the faint outline of her nipples beneath. But then, he thought, nipples were the fashionable thing these days.

Without meaning to, his eyes drifted over the soft pale skin just under her blouse and on to the bleach white fabric of her bra.

Somehow, without looking back at Harrison, she knew he was staring. Perhaps it was just that she felt a little self-conscious, or that she knew he was there on the periphery of her vision, but, either way, she clutched at the top of her blouse, closing it up.

“
Harrison,” cried Rosie, seeing his line of sight and realising what he was looking at. “Don’t you go bringing your sleazy habits into this home.”

“
What?” replied Harrison, trying to deny it.

Helen clammed up, fiddling with the buttons on her blouse.

“
Heh, heh, heh,” said Brains smiling, still looking intently at the data stream coming from the cube, tapping buttons on the computer keyboard. He didn’t need to look up to know what was going on.

Susan picked up quickly on what was happening and said, “Men and their eyes! What is it with you guys?”

“
What?” repeated Harrison, trying to defend himself, realising Brains was going to hang him out to dry on this one. Philippe and Ramon went quiet, which only increased the focus on him.

“
Heh, heh, heh,” repeated Brains, quietly wondering how Harrison was going to dig himself out of this hole.

“
Aw, come on,” cried Harrison, raising his hands in defence. “I didn’t mean to look, it was just there.”

Rosie flicked him on the ear, saying, “I thought you were better than all that.”

“
Ouch,” cried Harrison rubbing the welt forming on the soft cartilage. Rosie had quite a swat, but that’s what came from being a ghetto mother, and he knew it. Rosie had raised most of the kids in this block along with her own, as though they were her own. She took lip from no one. No one messed with Rosie. Not unless they wanted a serious spanking regardless of their age. She’d even been known to run off the occasional drug dealer prowling the tenement halls.

“
Isn’t leering sexual harassment?” asked Susan in what sounded like an innocent, inquisitive voice. Perhaps in any other context it would have been a casual question, but at this point, it threw gasoline on the fire. Helen blushed. Rosie fumed.

“
Hey, what about sexual entrapment?” Harrison countered. “I mean, damn. If there’s decorations in the shop window, you’re going to have a look, right?”

Harrison appealed to Brains, Philippe and Ramon, looking for support. The two younger men were conspicuously quiet. Guilt ran across each face. They'd noticed Helen's top and had enjoyed the scenery, but they weren't going to say anything to implicate themselves in the brewing storm.

Brains just sat there grinning from ear to ear, wanting to see where all this was going.

Susan laughed quietly. After having fanned the flames, she was content to watch Harrison stew.

Helen turned to one side, trying to turn her back to Harrison as best she could, without making it too obvious. She appeared to be looking intently at the data streaming out of the cube, but the reality was she didn’t know what to think. She was a little shocked by the whole thing.