Eight Million Gods-eARC by Wen Spencer Page B

and around several underground malls, the basements of several large department stores, and Osaka Station. None of the maps she’d found thus far covered all of the connected areas, so it remained an unknowable maze. Some of the streets around the station were only crossable via pedestrian bridges, which created their own midair maze. Nikki would surface at various exits, like a confused gopher, get her bearings, and plunge back into the labyrinth.
    She finally found one of her landmarks—a literal notch in the wall serving unidentified meat on a stick with a noren curtain separating its standing customers from the flow of commuters. From there she found signs for HEP Five. She often suspected she had walked in a big circle, but so far she hadn’t found an easier way through the network of malls and subway lines.
    HEP Five was a tall narrow shopping complex with high-end boutiques that cratered to the wealthy twenty-something. George’s building was east of HEP Five. She used her cell phone to guide her to the right set of doors and out onto the street.
    There was a KFC at the corner, the Colonel’s familiar face beaming down at her in triplicate.
    Nikki’s stomach was doing strange flip flops as she headed toward George’s building. She had no idea what she was walking into—or even if she could. She might not be able to get through the building’s security. As she walked toward it, a woman used keys to unlock the foyer door and walked into the building.
    How was she going to get in?
    She noticed an American man with a suitcase heading toward the front door. She fell into step behind him, pretending to search her purse for keys.
    Don’t mind me. I live here. Just lost my key. See. Harmless. Not wanted for murder at all.
    Amazingly, it worked. Being short and harmless-looking had its uses.
    The lobby was typical of Osaka: a narrow slit between two restaurants leading back to a tiny elevator.
    The man with the suitcase took notice of Nikki as they stood waiting for the elevator. She kept digging in her purse. She made the mistake of peeking up and found him eying her with suspicion.
    “I’ve never seen you here before.”
    Her heart flipped in her chest. “Um, I’m new. I just moved in the other day.”
    “I didn’t know anyone was selling a unit.”
    “I’m subletting, actually. It’s a friend of a friend kind of thing.” She fell back to George’s conflict line. “He was here on a sponsored visa and got laid off from work. He’s trying to line up another job, but he had to go home to get a tourist visa, and he decided to spend some time in the States visiting family. It was cheaper for me to sublet than do a weekly mansion.”The fact her appartment was in a no-deposit mansion building was another reason she was having money problems.
    “Greg Winston?” The man pointed upwards. “Up on fourteen?”
    She nodded.
    “That was quick.” The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. “He was still trying to figure out what he was going to do when I left.” He motioned for her to get on first, and then wheeled in his luggage. “I’m Stewart Robertson. I was just in the States, visiting family and renewing my tourist visa.”
    “Small world,” she said.
    “Life as an expatriate,” the man said. “Juggling truths and lies to stay in the country.”
    He tapped the buttons for the third floor and the fourteenth. “Welcome to the hood. We do mixers Thursday night, but people probably told you that already.”
    “Yeah, everyone’s been so nice.”
    He got off on the third floor, saying, “See you later.”
    Nikki rode up to the fourteenth floor. She had never bothered figuring out what floor George lived on, just that he was high up enough to clear the other buildings between him and the HEP Five. It was really freaking her out that the killer managed to match up a man that lived not only in the right building, but had the identical visa problem.
    Only Miriam knew about George’s visa problems. It