Oracle by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online

Gin devoutly. “If you're thinking of going down into the tunnels, you and me are gonna part company."
    "I'll keep that in mind."
    They drove for another few minutes, and then Gin stopped in front of a small rectangular building that seemed out of place in this city of domes and angles. There were no signs on the windows or the door, but Gin assured Chandler that advertising was unnecessary, and that everyone who had a reason to be there knew where the Wolfman's restaurant was.
    "I'd better go in with you,” he announced as Chandler got out of the landcar. “You go around asking for the Surgeon without anyone knowing who you are and you're liable to undergo an operation you hadn't planned on."
    Chandler followed Gin into the restaurant, which seemed to be on the dismal side of normal, with cheap chairs and torn booths, scarred tables, a very small bar along the left-hand wall, and a surly-looking waiter and waitress.
    Standing behind the bar was a creature out of a child's worst nightmare. It stood and walked like a man, but its head was that of a wolf, with a prolonged foreface and impressive canines. Its ears were not quite human and not quite canine, but were quite large and pointed and set high atop its head. Its face, neck, chest and hands were covered with fur, and it wore an elegant formal outfit that covered the rest of its body.
    Gin lead Chandler right up to it.
    "Whistler, meet the Wolfman,” he said, stepping aside.
    "I've heard of you,” said the Wolfman, extending a hand/paw.
    "I'm surprised I haven't heard of you,” replied Chandler, reaching out his own hand. “Cosmetic surgery?"
    "Yes."
    "Why a wolf?” asked Chandler.
    "Why not?” was the reply, as the Wolfman made a croaking sound deep in his throat that Chandler took to be a chuckle. “At least people remember me once they've seen me.” He paused. “Of course, I can see where that's not necessarily an advantage in your line of work.” He stared at Chandler. “Why do I think you didn't come here to sample my food?"
    "I'm looking for someone."
    "Oh?"
    "The Surgeon."
    "He's not here,” answered the Wolfman.
    Chandler looked questioningly at Gin, who had been studying the few occupied tables. Gin shook his head.
    "You might try again tomorrow,” added the Wolfman. “He's one of my best customers. He comes around four or five times a week.” The Wolfman pointed toward a table near the bar, one that backed up to a wall and gave the occupant a clear view of the doorway. “That's his regular table."
    "Not any more,” said Chandler.
    "Oh?"
    "That table is mine now,” said Chandler. “You might pass the word."
    "I don't know if the Surgeon is going to be real pleased with that."
    "That's not my problem,” said Chandler. “He's changing jobs or worlds—it's up to him."
    "Does he know about it?” asked the Wolfman.
    "He will,” said Chandler. “If you see him first, you can tell him."
    "Not me, friend,” said the Wolfman. “I spent four years having this face created. The Surgeon could slash it to ribbons in three seconds."
    "He won't,” said Chandler. “You're under my protection, starting right now."
    "I don't want any part of this,” said the Wolfman nervously. He paused. “Maybe you're as good as they say you are, and maybe not. But I've seen the Surgeon."
    "You won't see him again,” said Chandler. “Remember: no one sits at that table except me."
    He laid a bill on the bar, then turned and walked toward the door. Gin caught up with him just as he stepped outside.
    "Boy, I hope to hell you know what you're doing!” exclaimed the driver. “I thought you just wanted to talk to the Surgeon."
    "If he's a reasonable man, that's all I'll have to do,” answered Chandler. “But I'm setting up shop here. This is the easiest way to establish my credentials and get rid of my biggest rival at the same time.” He climbed into the vehicle. “Take me to the next spot on your list. I'd like to get this over with before dinner."
    Gin shook