第18节

The second shuttle ride provided a tenuous clue to his possible

location. Steve knew that the White House and AmEx - the executive arm

of government - were both situated in closely guarded enclaves some

distance from Grand Central. But there were also other specialist

agencies located around the main base; Inner State U the huge college

campus where Roz was currently studying for her medical doctorate; the

Life Institute where all Trackers were conceived 'in vitro' and

implanted in their host-mothers, the headquarters of the

Provost-Marshal Division, known formally as 'The Bureau' and informally

as Meat-Loaf Mountain, and Columbus Circle, the home of the

Federation's giant computer.

Steve had ridden on the special subway that linked the White House to

Grand Central but that had been ten years ago. At the time he had paid

little attention to the mechanics of the journey and could no longer

remember how he'd gotten to it from Grand Central Station. He

dismissed the problem from his mind. If the Family decided he was to

be allowed back into circulation all would eventually be revealed; if

they didn't, his whereabouts would swiftly become irrelevant. His

illustrious career would end - this time permanently with a nose dive

down the nearest available shaft.

So much for the predictions of the Sky Voices . . .

A medic in a white coat came through the doorway and paused in front of

Steve with his hands in his coat pockets. Pursing his lips he gave

Steve the once-over then addressed the DPs. 'We won't be needing the

cuffs.

Take them with you."

The two DPs unlocked the chains. Steve rubbed his wrists with a

grateful sigh.

The DP who had unlocked the knee cuffs straightened up and coiled the

chains neatly around his hand. 'What about the MO?"

'It's been initialised,' said the medic. 'Pick it up from the office

on your way out."

Steve watched them walk out of the room then turned towards the medic

and stood to attention.

The medic waved him down. 'Relax."

'Thanks." Steve looked around the room. 'It's kinda hard to imagine

that I woke up this morning in Colorado - and here I am in Grand

Central."

'Yeah... you've had a long ride. Feel like a shower?"

'That would be great."

'Did they give you anything to eat at Pueblo?"

"Yes, sir. I had breakfast. Cup of java and a B-side special."

'Nothing since?"

'No, sir."

'Okay,' said the medic. 'Here's what we'll do. While you're in the

washroom I'll get rid of that cee-bee outfit and get you a set of blues

- and then we'll go down to the mess deck and pin down some hot chow.

How does that sound?"

'Fantastic."

'And go easy on the "sir" bit. I just empty the test tubes round

here." The pleasant-faced medic stuck out his hand. 'The name's

Chisum. John Chisum. Okay?"

Steve shook the offered hand firmly. 'Glad to meet you, John."

'There's just one thing..."

Steve eyed him warily.

Chisum smiled, as if reading his thoughts. 'You're gonna have to lose

some of that hair before you walk onto the mess deck."

'I'd be happy to,' replied Steve. 'Every time those Provos get a look

at me they start foaming at the mouth."

'Yeah, I know what you mean. Wonder what it is that makes a guy

volunteer to be a meat-loaf? Maybe they breed a special brand of

shit-head over at the Life Institute."

That cancels out one possible location, thought Steve.

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