Directly ahead of her was the reception desk, and behind it was the most exotic woman Susannah had ever seen in her life. She appeared to be white, black, and Chinese, all whipped together. In 1964, such a woman would undoubtedly have been called a mongrel, no matter how beautiful she might have been. Here she had been popped into an extremely handsome ladies' suit and put behind the reception desk of a large first-class hotel. The Dark Tower might be increasingly shaky, Susannah thought, and the world might be moving on, but she thought the lovely desk clerk was proof (if any were needed) that noteverything was falling down or going in the wrong direction. She was talking to a customer who was complaining about his in-room movie bill, whatever that might be.
Never mind, it's the future,Susannah told herself once again.It's science fiction, like the City of Lud. Best leave it at that.
I don't care what it is or when,Mia said.I want to be near a telephone. I want to see to my chap.
Susannah walked past a sign on a tripod, then turned back and gave it a closer look.
AS OF JULY 1ST, 1999, THE NEW YORK PLAZA - PARK HYATT
WILL BECOME THE REGAL U.N. PLAZA HOTEL
ANOTHER GREATSOMBRA/NORTH CENTRAL PROJECT!!
Susannah thought,Sombra as in Turtle Bay Luxury Condominiums...which never got built, from the look of that black-glass needle back on the corner. And North Central as in North Central Positronics. Interesting.
She felt a sudden twinge of pain go through her head. Twinge? Hell, a bolt. It made her eyes water. And she knew who had sent it. Mia, who had no interest in the Sombra Corporation, North Central Positronics, or the Dark Tower itself, was becoming impatient. Susannah knew she'd have to change that, or at least try. Mia was focused blindly on her chap, but if she wanted tokeep the chap, she might have to widen her field of vision a little bit.
She fight you ever' damn step of the way,Detta said. Her voice was shrewd and tough and cheerful.You know dat too, don't you?
She did.
Susannah waited until the man with the problem finished explaining how he had ordered some movie calledX-Rated by accident, and he didn't mind paying as long as it wasn't on his bill, and then she stepped up to the desk herself. Her heart was pounding.
"I believe that my friend, Mathiessen van Wyck, has rented a room for me," she said. She saw the reception clerk looking at her stained shirt with well-bred disapproval, and laughed nervously. "I really can't wait to take a shower and change my clothes. I had a small accident. At lunch."
"Yes, madam. Just let me check." The woman went to what looked like a small TV screen with a typewriter attached. She tapped a few keys, looked at the screen, and then said: "Susannah Mia Dean, is that correct?"
You say true, I say thank yarose to her lips and she squelched it. "Yes, that's right."
"May I see some identification, please?"
For a moment Susannah was flummoxed. Then she reached into the rush bag and took out an Oriza, being careful to hold it by the blunt curve. She found herself remembering something Roland had said to Wayne Overholser, the Calla's big rancher:We deal in lead. The 'Rizas weren't bullets, but surely they were the equivalent. She held the plate up in one hand and the small carved turtle in the other.
"Will this do?" she asked pleasantly.
"What - " the beautiful desk clerk began, then fell silent as her eyes shifted from the plate to the turtle. They grew wide and slightly glassy. Her lips, coated with an interesting pink gloss (it looked more like candy than lipstick to Susannah), parted. A soft sound came from between them:ohhhh...
"It's my driver's license," Susannah said. "Do you see?" Luckily there was no one else around, not even a bellman. The late-day checkouts were on the sidewalk, fighting for hacks; in here, the lobby was a-doze. From the bar beyond the gift shop, "Night and Day" gave way to a lazy and introspective version of "Stardust."
"Driver's license," the desk clerk agreed in that same sighing, wondering voice.
"Good. Are you supposed to write anything down?"
"No...Mr. Van Wyck rented the room...all I need is to...to check your...may I hold the turtle, ma'am?"
"No," Susannah said, and the desk clerk began to weep. Susannah observed this phenomenon with bemusement. She didn't believe she had made so many people cry since her disastrous violin recital (both first and last) at the age of twelve.
"No, I may not hold it," the desk clerk said, weeping freely. "No, no, I may not, may not hold it, ah, Discordia, I may not - "
"Hush up your snivel," Susannah said, and the desk clerk hushed at once. "Give me the room-key, please."
But instead of a key, the Eurasian woman handed her a plastic card in a folder. Written on the inside of the folder - so would-be thieves couldn't easily see it, presumably - was the number 1919. Which didn't surprise Susannah at all. Mia, of course, could not have cared less.
She stumbled on her feet a little. Reeled a little. Had to wave one hand (the one holding her "driver's license") for balance. There was a moment when she thought she might tumble to the floor, and then she was okay again.
"Ma'am?" the desk clerk inquired. Looking remotely - veryremotely - concerned. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yeah," Susannah said. "Only...lost my balance there for a second or two."
Wondering,What in the blue hell just happened? Oh, but she knew the answer. Mia was the one with the legs,Mia. Susannah had been driving the bus ever since encountering old Mr. May I Not Take TheSk?ldpadda, and this body was starting to revert to its legless-below-the-knee state. Crazy but true. Her body was going Susannah on her.