10

Deeter Zor was a bit disappointed when Timbella announced, "We're here," in front of an old building in poor condition.

"Does that sign say CONDEMNED?" he asked her.

"Oh come on, that's totally a ruse. He pays off people every month to keep that sign there." She pushed a button near the door. A distorted voice said, "Yes?"

"It's me," she replied. A buzzer sounded and she pulled open the door. "See, it's all in working condition. Except the lift. We'll take the stairs."

The building wasn't very tall, but they still had to climb six flights of stairs. She was a little out of breath when they reached the top. "He's in the penthouse."

"You mean other people live here?"

She shrugged. "Probably not, but he likes the view." She knocked on the stairwell door, and they heard a lock disengage. She opened the door.

The professor's apartment was, indeed, the entire floor. If there had been other apartments on this floor, they were no longer. The space was enormous, vertically as well as horizontally. Deeter wondered if there had been a seventh floor once as well. There were simple floor screens dividing the space, allowing for some privacy. A giant flower garden took up most of the space by one of the walls, which was an entire window, letting in a great deal of natural light.

"Just a minute," called a male voice from behind one of the many screens. He walked out a moment later. He was slightly above average height, with a well trimmed brown beard, hair not much longer, slightly recending and going to grey. He wore lightweight wool black pants, a simple black short sleeve shirt that said "dead" over "square", with the latter in red type. His boots looked like he'd been actually walking in the soil with his plants. Small glasses covered his brown eyes. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Deeter.

"Hey, this is my friend Deeter, he's new in town and needs some help. Deeter, this is the Professor."

"Nice to meet you," said the Professor. He looked at Timbella. "New in town?"

"So I'm a sucker sometimes. Sue me." She walked over behind one of the screens. Deeter followed her. She had sat on a large plush orange sofa. He sat next to her.

The Professor followed them and sat on a stool nearby. "I don't have any problems helping people but I just - you just met this guy today, though he was worth helping, huh?"

Deeter spoke up. "I admit I may have presumed a bit much, but it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. I have some money, and I need to hide. I understand this city isn't a bad place to do so, but further underground for a time would please me more."

The Professor stared at him. "Where are you from?"

"Nowhere you've heard of."

"You understand I'm not gonna help you just 'cos Timbey got some hair up her ass. I'm a criminal in this country, but I have standards. I have to deal with unsavory characters, merely because the government thinks people shouldn't be allowed to put harmless substances in their own bodies."

Realization dawned. "You make - make drug potions?"

"Ha! So he's not just a pretty face!"

Deeter and Timbella both blushed. "Actually I'm a diplomat. From a small country you've never heard of."

"And this small country has the resources to find you? In Kwee City?"

"I don't know. Frankly I'd prefer not to find out."

"Are you really that important?" he asked.

"I was nearly captured a few times, so I have to assume so."

He nodded. "You have money I assume."

Deeter counted out a thousand units. "How's that for a start?"

"Not bad." He scratched his beard. "But I'm not sure who I know that can help in this situation."

"This situation? I only need to be smuggled on a ship or train of some sort. I just want to not have to reveal who I am to any sort of authority figure."

"I need to use the lavatory," announced Timbella suddenly, and she ran across the room to one of the only visible doors.

Deeter looked after her strangely. The Professor chuckled. "You do know she won't be glad to see you go."

"I admit," he said quietly, "I am using her a bit. It seemed a safer option than looking for smugglers myself. Should I -" he hesitated.

"She'll be upset either way, but sleeping with her might make her like you more. Dunno if it'll help her let go. Might make her more attached. Your call. Anyway, you stay put, I need to talk to some sketchballs."

Deeter nodded, conflicted about all sorts of things.