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I ran through the ritual dicker but my heart wasn't in it. I settled for
fourteen crowns, paid it, accepted a key; the clerk turned a large book toward
me. "Sign here. And show me your air receipt."
"Eh? When did this kaka start?"
"With the new administration, chum. I don't like it any more than you do
but either I comply or they shut me down."
I thought about it. Was I "Richard Ames"? Why cause a cop to salivate at
the thought of a reward? Colin Campbell? Someone with a long memory might
recognize that name-and think of Walker Evans.
I wrote, "Richard Campbell, Novylen."
"Thank you, gospodin. Room L is at the end of this passage on the left.
There's no dining room but our kitchen has dumbwaiter service to the rooms. If
you want dinner here, please note that the kitchen shuts down at twenty-one
o'clock. Except for liquor and ice, dumbwaiter service ends at the same time.
But there is an all-night Sloppy Joe across the corridor and north about fifty
meters. No cooking in the rooms."
"Thank you."
"Do you want company? Straight arrow, lefthand drive, or versatile, all
ages and sexes and catering only to high-class clientele."
"Thanks again. I'm very tired."
It was a room adequate for my needs; I didn't mind its shabbiness. There
was a single bed and a couch that opened out, and a refresher, small but with
all the usual offices, and no water restriction-I promised myself a hot bath
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