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Russ asked, "I assume I can I get there via taxi?"

"Of course," said Pat. "A taxi will take you up a winding road to the summit. But it'll stop on the edge of the Heights area. You'll have to hoof it in to wherever you're headed."

Russ and Pat visited for a while more, then Russ went back to his room to eat and rest up for the next day's adventure.

The Heights was at the summit of a tall, very steep hill.

The taxi made its way up a road that that wended its way back and forth across the hill, then stopped at the edge of the plateau.

The taxi announced "Your iCard has been charged 18 point 33 credits. Do you approve?"

"Yes."

Russ climbed out of the taxi, began his walk into the neighborhood.

Russ clicked on the open channel, was hit with the weirdest music he'd ever heard.

Walking up Ash street, which was paved over but named for the ash that once covered the summit of the now dormant volcano, Russ encountered other pedestrians. Their pressure suits were emblazoned with outlandish and colorful decorations.

The sun was high in the sky. No one had enabled their visor's polarization settings, so Russ could plainly see the expressions of distaste and distain other pedestrians cast in his direction.

Russ looked for a bar.

He soon saw one, its 3D-array sign flashed "WELCOME TO THE BEAVER HUT!"

Russ entered the airlock, was met with a hand lettered sign that instructed USE CHANNEL 369.

Russ switched channels, raucous crowd noise was accompanied by background music as weird as the music on the open channel.

As soon as Russ passed through the airlock, the crowd noises ceased. All in the club looked at Russ, who quickly realized the patrons were exclusively female.

Russ chuckled, turned, left the bar.

Out on the street, Russ snickered as he shook his head, continued his walk.

Russ had been a private detective for many years. He stopped often, looked at video screens in front of businesses. Instead of turning back to the direction he was headed he always turned back the other way, took snapshots with his helmet cam in turning. He soon determined someone was following him.

Russ found another bar. This one was named THE SPACE HAG. Russ passed through the airlock, tuned to the bar's channel.

The bar's patrons were of both genders, again the music was weird.

Russ flipped up his visor, clicked off the channel. Instead of sitting at a booth or table, he bellied up to the bar, ordered a draft from the barbot.

This watering hole had obviously gone to great expense to duplicate an old fashioned Earthly establishment. A large mirror, rare on Mars, was behind the bar, ran its entire length.

Russ kept an eye on the mirror, saw the person trailing him pass thru the airlock, sit at a table.

The chap to Russ's right swiveled round, looked Russ up and down, said "Howdy."

The fellow was tall, like most persons born on Mars. But he was stoutly built. Because bots did all manual labor, Russ figured the fellow must work out.

Russ introduced himself, explained he was on Mars as a tourist.

After a pleasant conversation, Russ asked, "You know anything about the whereabouts of the lady named Cat?"

The fellow wagged his head, replying, "Nope. Rumor is she's around here somewhere but nobody's ever seen her; not even on a vid."

The remaining conversation went on for some time. Russ paid his bill, also the bill of the fellow. Russ then left.

Before the inner airlock door closed, Russ turned around, saw the person who had been trailing him talking to the fellow with whom Russ had his recent conversation.

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