A Phule and His Money Read Online Free

icy stare and fell in behind the captain as if it were his place. Nothing had yet been said about Rev's nominal rank, so Brandy resisted the impulse to order him into line with the other new arrivals. There'd be time to talk to the captain when she'd finished her current job. After all, in the Omega Mob, a lot of the usual patterns of military life and protocol were-well, the only way to put it was different. Brandy liked it that way.
    As he entered the casino, Rev cast a solemn eye upon the busy gambling tables, the scantily clad waitresses, the bustling bartenders, and the fevered patrons. Sprinkled throughout the crowd, conspicuous in their black Legion uniforms, were the guards-the ones he had been called to minister to. "This is my portion, then," he murmured to himself. "A chance to follow in the King's footsteps. Let me make the most of it." Then he said aloud to Phule, "Captain, I'll ask your permission to stop here for a while and meet the people I'll be serving. Plenty of time to find my quarters later."
    Phule nodded, saying, "Sure, why not?" and Rev made a gesture that might have been mistaken for a salute before heading off into the crowd. Phule barely noticed the chaplain's departure; he had spotted Moustache striding purposefully toward him. "Yes, Sergeant, what's the situation?" he asked, as the older man fell in step beside him.
    "Sushi's disappeared, sir," said Moustache, in his clipped, British accent. "The eyes spotted a pair of card cheats at one of the blackjack tables. Sushi and Do-Wop moved in to handle it; the man turned out to be a martial arts specialist, and they put up a bit of a fight."
    "That's unusual," said Phule, his eyebrows rising. "Any injuries?"
    "None reported, sir," Moustache said. "A bit of broken furniture, but that was replaced in no time at all."
    "Well, that's good," said Phule. He stopped, and turned to face the older man. "How long ago was this?"
    "Right after you left, sir," said the sergeant. "Coming up on forty minutes ago. After the first flurry, Sushi and the man left together. Sushi told Do-Wop he had things under control, but didn't give details. And he turned off his communicator as they left. We have the woman in custody-she turned tame as a puppy after the man stopped fighting-but she's not talking. I doubt she knows where they are, anyway. We certainly don't."
    "Sushi turned off his communicator, you say?" A look of concern came over Phule's face. "That's not a smart move. I have faith in his judgment, but this..."
    "I know what you mean, sir," said Moustache, grimly. "We can't always stick to procedures, but he should have given Mother a probable destination before dropping out of touch. I didn't see anything that justified that."
    "What steps are we taking to locate him?"
    "Very low-profile at present, sir," said Moustache. "Lieutenant Rembrandt was informed as soon as we learned of the incident. She ordered all personnel to report any sighting of either Sushi or the other man-so far no word. We're assuming that the other man could have taken control of Sushi's communicator, so we don't want to make a general broadcast that he might intercept."
    "Is there any reason to believe that's the case?" asked Phule.
    "None so far," said Moustache. "But you'd best talk to Rembrandt and Mother-they've been watching the situation develop ever since Sushi left the casino floor, and may know a fair amount they haven't passed on-the enemy may have ears."
    "Yes, of course," said Phule. "Carry on, then, Sergeant-it looks as if you've done everything you could." He turned and headed for the comm center. If anyone knew anything more than Moustache, it would be Mother.
    Neither he nor Moustache noticed the small figure in black that watched them from behind a large, potted Durdanian fern, then swiftly moved to follow Phule toward the elevator bank.
    "These will be your quarters, for the time being," said Brandy, opening the door to a suite on the third floor of the hotel. One of Phule's