Lock In by John Scalzi Read Free Book Online Page B

a Realtor,” I said. “I’m looking at apartments. Federally approved. Technically I’m supposed to have a half day today for it.”
    “Don’t expect too many more of those,” Vann said. “Half days, I mean.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “I’m kind of figuring that out on my own.”

 
    Chapter Five
    T HE REALTOR WAS a small, elegant-looking woman named LaTasha Robinson, and she met me directly outside the Bureau building. One of her realty specialties was the Haden market, so the Bureau connected me with her to help me find an apartment.
    Given her clientele, the chances that she might not know who I was were close to nil, a suspicion that was verified as I approached. She smiled a smile I recognized from years of being trotted out as the official Haden’s Poster Child, part of the official Haden’s Poster Family. I didn’t hold it against her.
    “Agent Shane,” she said, holding out her hand. “Really lovely to meet you.”
    I took the hand and shook it. “Ms. Robinson. Likewise.”
    “I’m sorry, this is kind of exciting,” she said. “I don’t meet that many famous people. I mean, who aren’t politicians.”
    “Not in this town, no,” I agreed.
    “And I don’t think of politicians as being famous, do you? They’re just … politicians.”
    “I couldn’t agree more,” I said.
    “My car’s right over here,” she said, pointing to a relatively unflashy Cadillac parked where it would get ticketed. “Why don’t we get started?”
    I got into the passenger side. Robinson got in the driver’s seat and pulled out her tablet. “Amble,” she said, and the car slid out from the curb, just ahead, I noted as I glanced in the rearview mirror, of a traffic cop. We headed east on Pennsylvania Avenue.
    “The car’s just going to drive around for a few minutes while we get set up here,” Robinson said, tapping her tablet. For all her gushing a few seconds before, she slipped into business mode pretty quickly. “I’ve got your basic request list and personal information”—she looked over as if to acknowledge I was, in fact, a Haden and she knew it—“so let’s get a few things narrowed down before we start.”
    “All right,” I said.
    “How close do you want to be to work?”
    “Closer is better.”
    “Are we talking walking distance close, or Metro line close?”
    “Metro line close is fine,” I said.
    “Do you prefer a neighborhood that’s hip, or one that’s quiet?”
    “It doesn’t really matter to me.”
    “You say that now but if I get you an apartment over a bar in Adams Morgan and you hate it, you’re going to blame me,” Robinson said, looking over at me.
    “I promise noise isn’t going to bother me,” I said. “I can turn down my hearing.”
    “Do you plan on using the apartment to socialize?”
    “Not really,” I said. “I do most of my socializing elsewhere. I might have a friend over from time to time.”
    Robinson looked over again at this, and seemed to be considering whether to ask for clarification, and decided against it. It was a fair call. There were threep fetishists out there. They really weren’t my thing, I have to say.
    “Will your body be physically present, and if so, will you need a room for a caretaker?” she asked.
    “My body and its caretaking are already squared away,” I said. “I won’t be needing space for either. At least not right away.”
    “In that case I have some Haden efficiency flats on my availability list,” she said. “Would you like to see those?”
    “Are they worth my time?” I asked.
    Robinson shrugged. “Some Hadens like them,” she said. “I think they’re a little small, but then they’re not designed for non-Hadens.”
    “Are they close by?”
    “I’ve got a building of them on D Avenue in Southwest, right by the Federal Center Metro,” Robinson said. “The Department of Health and Human Services hires a lot of Hadens, so it’s convenient housing for them.”
    “All right,” I said. “We might