The Woman They Kept Read Free Page A

the
floor the majority of the ground had been gutted out and filled with
water, creating a pool that looked like an underground lake. There
was a walkway all around the outside and the water looked clean and
cool. Bertrand pressed a few buttons at the control panel.
    “ It should just be one
moment, sir.”
    All around the wall panels
illuminated with the sudden glow of red neon, each seeming to have
its own light source.
    “ Feel free to inspect the
wares, sir,” Bertrand said and he stood with his hands folded
at his waist.
    Gideon took a slow walk around
the perimeter. Each glass panel was actually a window to a small
room with a bed in the back, and standing right in front of each
window was a girl, the youngest he saw he guessed was around
eighteen, the oldest maybe twenty-five. They were dressed
minimally, there were all colors of skin and hair beckoning to him
as he walked past the windows. “Where do they come from?”
he asked.
    “ Beg pardon, sir, but it
is considered impolite to ask. Suffice it to say that they did not
come from Kitswitch. They are well fed and cared for here, and each
is well trained. All have been checked medically. If you like, the
woman there has never been used, she is our prized asset. A virgin,
sir,” Bertrand said, pointing to the youngest girl Gideon
passed. Her face was round with baby fat and her hips were only
starting to curve.
    “ How much do you charge
for a night?”
    Bertrand made a small tisking
sound. “The man I represent is not a pimp, he does not whore
women out. He sells them, we do not take them back when you are
done. What you do with them is your own business.”
    Gideon suppressed a lump that
was forming in his throat. The girl, the virgin whose window Gideon
was standing in front of, tried to dance for him, awkwardly shaking
her hips from side to side in a crude imitation of the other women.
She licked at her lips and Gideon turned away and pulled out a
photograph. “I am looking for a particular woman, it doesn't
look like you have her here. Do you recognize her?”
    Bertrand took the photograph and
studied it for a long time, his face scrunched in concentration. “I
cannot help you, the woman has never been in our employ.”
    Gideon's face fell. He thought
he would be used to hearing that by now, but each time weighed on
him. How long would he be doing this?
    “ My only advice would be
to follow the track, though,” Bertrand leaned in close and
whispered, “I would be very careful about how you ask these
things. Others in our line of work may not be as polite as I am.”
He smiled then, and it was not the smile of a man showing wares.
There was something vaguely paternal about that smile.
    Bertrand guided him back to the
elevator, and as he was leaving the young girl dropped the act of
seduction and simply waved to him. Gideon had to look away.

    ...

    He was on the road to Elsinore
before he allowed himself to process anything, weaving over the
shifting earth and between abandoned transports. There were no
storms, no acid rain nor gusts of wind to blow him off the road, all
he had to worry about was the trash that blew by like tumbleweeds
and the skeletons of buildings from long ago. The trash was
terrible, with mounds of it built up between bubbles. Most places
simply pushed all their garbage far enough away for them not to be a
problem. In a way, he was thankful for that. The trash did not
allow him to concentrate on any one thing for too long.
    Bertrand had not been the first
person to allude to the track. It was always the same advice,
follow the track, follow the track. In everyday terms the track was
simply the path that led from bubble to bubble used by large
transport vessels or, more rarely, by little motorcycles like
Gideon's. There was more than just food on some transport vehicles,
though, and that was what the track really meant.
    Gideon accelerated around a
corner and allowed all those thoughts to fall behind him. This was
the most relaxed