Read Online Koko Takes a Holiday by Kieran Shea - Free Book Online Page A

her being cocked in a ready stance and waiting for the redhead’s imminent arrival, it dawns on Koko she must have lost the bounty agent, at least for now.
    Relaxing some and adopting the stride of just another SFZ citizen, Koko struts out of the access tunnel. In some buffed chrome near the tunnel’s exit, she catches her reflection and notices a splotch of blood still on her chin from when she started to mark the woman. Koko licks her thumb and wipes the blood clear.
    Emerging from the tunnel, Koko enters a colossal skylighted atrium that stretches upward through the rigid circularized core of
Alaungpaya
. A set of elevated and dual-directional causeways encircles the hive-like core and apparently serves as the main thoroughfare around a huge centralized casino. The perimeter of the concourse is lined with narrow storefronts, seedy discotheques, and the standard hot-holes of the vice trades. Not overly crowded, but not exactly starved for business either; it’s pretty easy for Koko to blend into the multi-pigmented ebb humping its way around. She trucks left on the inner loop, the cacophony of a thousand whistles and thrums amplifying into an oceanic roar in her ears.
    She needs a place to hole up and get her head together, and there are a lot of tall time-break bins and hospitality grottos to choose from. Even if she’s still being tracked by that redhead, it would take the agent more than a little while to search all the endless crannies towering around her. Koko’s blood buzzes. Gunfights on the fly with a cluster of cocky CPB security stiffs are one thing. Getting all personal with someone trained to kill you in hundreds of brutal ways is another matter entirely. Regretfully Koko knows she should have just finished that bounty agent off and taken her eye, but that dopey kid with the weird yellow hair was watching her.
    No matter, Koko. Keep moving.
    Keep moving.
    In her past, when booking a place to stay, Koko has always opted for ponying up the extra credits to be around a better stratum of people. But seeing that things have gone all tiger-fight with Delacompte siccing a freelance asset after her, Koko realizes she needs to ratchet down her usual modus operandi. She looks for a cheesier tower unit, and after three thousand meters slaloming through the crowds, she settles on one called, of all things, Wonderwall. Wall, yes, but calling the low-rent tower facility a wonder is more than a bit of a stretch. Twenty stories, set back on a furcated spur, with daily and extended occupancy rates, it’ll have to do. Koko pushes through the frosted lobby doors.
    Inside it takes Koko more than a little while to manage one of Wonderwall’s unstaffed hospitality displays. The interface is a convoluted mess, the Byzantine navigation resets no doubt programmed by fumble-headed curve draggers. Finally, she manages to steer through the registration silos, and selects an available smoking room on quick exits with a decent view of the concourses and
Alaungpaya
’s central casino. Koko could have opted for an exterior unit but her hunch is, if Delacompte sent that bounty agent after her, she’ll stand a better chance of catching the woman by making a fuss down on the concourse than by taking in a pressurized view of the weather-strewn sky. When she confirms her reservation, a bright blue balloon squeaks—a message from Wonderwall management congratulating her on her reservation. A second balloon fades in on the display, boasting that her room includes a state-of-the-art flash shower and complimentary mini bar. La-dee-fucking-dah.
    Koko crosses the lobby and one set of two lift doors yawns wide, sensing her presence. As she enters the lift, it takes her all of a half-second to make an anemic-looking dealer painted in the corner like a pale stain. The dealer wears a checkered polyester cowl, and the give and take between them assures them both that they are not enemies. Using some universally accepted sign language, Koko signals