The Blue-Haired Bombshell by John Zakour Read Free Book Online Page A

looked at it, and smiled.
    ‘‘Very good,’’ Maria said. She glanced over at the two guys Carol and I had clobbered. ‘‘Wake up!’’ she ordered.
    The two guys started to move. ‘‘Follow me out on your knees.’’
    Maria gave me a polite wave. She left, followed by Carlos, followed by the men crawling behind her. The woman had style. As she walked by Carol she gave her a pat on the head. ‘‘Back to normal, little one.’’
    Carol stood up and shook her head. ‘‘That was annoying . . .’’
    ‘‘Welcome to my world, my dear. Welcome to my world.’’
    ‘‘Hmm,’’ HARV said. ‘‘You have a call coming in.’’
    ‘‘Who is it?’’ I asked.
    ‘‘Sexy.’’
    ‘‘Sprockets?’’
    ‘‘Do you know anybody else named Sexy?’’
    ‘‘Take a message, buddy.’’
    ‘‘She says she needs to see you urgently.’’
    I squeezed my nose with my thumb and index finger. ‘‘She’s probably just jealous that I saved Madrid’s dog.’’
    ‘‘That would match her MO,’’ HARV agreed. ‘‘I also screened over one hundred messages for you.’’
    ‘‘Why so many?’’
    ‘‘Check your wallscreen.’’
    I looked at the images scrolling across my wallscreen. Most of them were of me, diving to catch the little poodle. I was the flavor of the nano all right. I needed a break. I couldn’t handle much more of today, today.
    ‘‘HARV, can you bury my home address?’’
    ‘‘Of course,’’ HARV said.
    ‘‘I want to go home and make sure I’m not mobbed by the press or fans . . .’’
    ‘‘Don’t worry Zach, as is par for the course, I’m already many steps ahead of you.’’
    ‘‘You are?’’
    ‘‘I removed your home address from all databases the nano you caught that puppy.’’
    ‘‘I don’t care what I say about you, you’re all right, HARV.’’
    ‘‘Yes, I am well aware of that.’’
    I went to grab my coat and hat. I realized I hadn’t even had time to take them off. I couldn’t have HARV scramble the address of my office. After all, I’m a P.I. I need clients to be able to find me. Now my house, that was off limits. In the old days, they used to have unlisted telephone numbers; thanks to HARV, I would have an unlisted address. I liked it that way. I figured that anybody who I’d want to see me already knew where I lived.
    I looked out the one-way windows of my office. Another swarm of girls was gathering. I peeked over at Carol. She had her head on her desk and was moaning. Carol was much more used to being the disher not the dishee. In the long run, this little slice of humble pie would do her well; but like economists like to say, in the long run, we’re all dead. For the short run, Carol wouldn’t be much good to help me get by this crowd.
    I needed to be stealthy. One of the advantages of having HARV drilled into my brain is I have a built-in holo-projector. HARV can use the lens in my eye that bonds us to project holograms. I needed a cover. Somebody that the teenage girls and the press would want nothing to do with. . . .
    It hit me. ‘‘Make me look like Krazy Karl, the used-hover salesman.’’
    HARV appeared before me and smirked. ‘‘Yes, I imagine that would get the job done.’’
    Even when hovercrafts were at their peak of popularity, used ones weren’t all that popular. These days when items can be made so quickly nobody wants somebody else’s throwaways. To further lower his appeal, Karzy Karl was more round than tall and had a cheesy-looking handlebar mustache. To bottom it all out, he had what might possibly be the worst slogan ever: Our used hovers are so cheap we’re practically paying you to take them.
    The hover disguise washed over me, making me feel a bit dirty. I surmised that meant it was working.
    Opening my office door, I could feel the rush of anticipation from the crowd. They clamored, ‘‘Here he comes!’’
    They saw me, well, the holo -me. There was a collective groan from the crowd. They parted for me