CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Stinger whipped his head this way and that, trying to determine which one of the illusions was the real Bauta. But they all looked incredibly realistic; even their tabarros would blow in the wind occasionally. Either Bauta’s illusions were more realistic than illusions normally were or Bauta was just really good at simulating environmental effects on his illusions.
Not that it mattered either way to Stinger. Time was ticking and if he didn’t find the real Bauta quickly, he would not have any time to find out the truth.
“Confused, Stinger?” said one of the Bautas, this one to his left, leaning against an expensive-looking black sedan. “If I may offer a clue, the real me is closer than you think.”
Stinger didn’t respond. He just flew over to that Bauta and slammed one of
