"Terry Dowling - Clownette" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dowling Terry)

modes and welcoming the news that my special contingency plan for this particular "Meet the Motley"
visit could be put into effect after all. Maybe the staff were being assessed. Maybe there were new
owners, time and motion people on the premises, efficiency appraisals and staff cutbacks looming, even
video surveillance right now. I'd seen it in so many other places: three-star establishments trying for
four-star status. I forced myself not to look for cameras.

"Guess I'm off to see the Wizard then!" I said, making one last attempt to rebuild the old Gordon Maher
and Bob Jackson bridges, and the smile did widen a bit, though a wink would have helped enormously.

I'd ask about it later. Now I reached for my bag.

"Let me get someone to help withтАФ"

"Gordon, how many years have I been coming here?"

"A lot, Mr. Jackson."

"Then you know the drill. This front desk is yours. This bag is mine. Want to swap?"

The silly Gordon grin switched up a notch, seemed almost normal now. Much better. Call me Mr. J.!
Just once! Call me the kid!

"No, Mr. Jackson."

Damn! One more try. "You still sleep over on-shift?"

"Sometimes."

"Then how about we swap digs? You can have the Clownette?"

"Never again, Mr. Jackson!" Gordon was really grinning now, as if finally braving the old Jackson-Maher
routines in spite of himself.

"Then off I go."

Let the unseen time and motion gremlins add compassion and humor to their ticket and we might save
Macklin's yet, keep it a strictly three-star haven in a cold and busy world.

I took my bag across to the elevators, rode one to the fifth floor, then followed the long, softly lit corridor
toward the rear of the hotel and Room 516.

Other hotels had trained me well. I swiped the card in the new magnetic lock and pushed back the
familiar old door.

And there it was.
Both parts of the 516 experience for me. First the "Rush of Weird," as I called it, the deep-anxiety,
almost-dread stab of whatever it was I felt whenever I first opened the door on any visit. More than the
Motley itself, it was that feeling that struck the brain, poleaxed the spirit, made me want to turn and run.
It only happened on that first opening of the door during any stay.