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Simon Wentworth (order #1132857) 9. . . alternative character concepts . . .Hannibelle’s nose twitched as the nasty, artificial odors of the sprawl gave way to a rich miasma ofdisinfectants, oils, spices, and different varieties of cooked and uncooked flesh. Something in the air madethe pit of her stomach growl as she walked through the doors of the Takonashi restaurant. The elf maitred’ didn’t even blink at a ghoul in evening dress—at least her nanopaste disguise seemed to be working.“Mademoiselle? This way please.” The elf said, leading her into the restaurant.She followed, discreetly scoping out the place in case of trouble, wishing her ruined eyes could seemore in the dim light; she could barely make out the kitchen door on the back wall. The place wasn’tquite packed yet, which was good—too many bodies could disorient her with their smells. Each tablewas a closed booth, the hum and rumble of white noise generators and conversation almost blocked bysound-absorbing walls. A handful of professional security types stood guard, their auras and scentsrevealing some chrome and perspiration but not much else. A dwarf adept babysitting a little wardedbubble returned her gaze on the Astral; she flashed him a wink as she went past.The booth was in the back, near the kitchen, and dark. The maitre d’ politely ushered Hannibelle in.Neither she nor her Johnson needed the light.“’Belle, I hope you don’t mind,” a voice came to her out of the darkness. “But I’ve already ordered forthe both of us.”Cologne almost masked the subtle taint of carrion-breath. To her astral eyes, Chester Griffith lookedevery inch like the richest ghoul in the UCAS. The details of his suit were lost to her, but his aura lookedclean and healthy. No dull gray astral scars betrayed any attempt to hide his features with cosmeticsurgery, however. Obviously, Chester had also been eating very well.“Mr. Johnson,” she said. “While we wait, why don’t you tell me what the job is?”“There are some things that are best handled face to face,” Griffith replied. One hand held up a plasticenvelope across the table. “Yesterday, a certain research biotechnician from Biogene Pharmaceuticalsnamed Charles Manning suffered an accidental infection. Unfortunately, Dr. Manning panicked and fledthe facility. Your job is to find Dr. Manning and retrieve him for us.” Griffith set the envelope down on thetable in front of her. “Before your competition does.”“My competition?”“We have reason to believe Biogene has hired a centaur skip-tracer. I need not remind you, but the firsttwelve hours of the transformation are crucial, and it would be best if Dr. Manning was in our care.”The waiter set two plates down on the table and left. Hannibelle’s mouth watered at the smell, butprudence reigned over appetite. Hannibelle looked at her plate of raw meat and felt her stomach rumble.She unfolded the linen napkin and placed it in her lap.“Do you think we have time to eat first?” she said.“Of course.”Runner’s Companion45