by Glen Cook
“Perhaps I should just go, Mr. Garrett. Perhaps you should wait another day or two, then go apologize to Miss Tate.”
“I got no philosophical problem with apologizing, Dean, but I like to know why I’m doing it.”
He chuckled, pulled on the mantle of worldly-wise old warrior passing his wisdom along. “Apologize for being a man. That always works.”
He had a point. Except I have a flair for getting sarcastic.
“I’ll just stroll over to Morley’s, quaff me a few celery tonics.”
Dean pruned up. His opinion of Morley Dotes is so low it has to look up at snakes’ bellies.
We all have rogues in our circles, maybe just so we can tell ourselves, “What a good boy am I.”
Actually, I like Morley. Despite himself. He takes some getting used to but he’s all right, in his way. I just keep reminding myself that he’s part dark elf and has different values. Sometimes, very different values. Always malleable values. Everything is situational for Morley.
“I won’t be out long,” I promised. “I just need to work off some restlessness.”
Dean grinned. He figured I was getting bored with loafing and we’d see some excitement pretty soon.
I hoped not.
6
It isn’t a long walk to Morley’s place, but it is a walk over the border into another world. The neighborhood hasn’t acquired a name like so many others, but it is a distinct region. Maybe call it the Safety Zone. Members of all species mix there without much friction — though humans have to put in overtime to be acceptable.
There was a little light still in the air. The clouds out west hadn’t quite burned out. It wasn’t yet time for the predators to hit the streets. I was no more than normally wary.
But when the kid stepped into my path I knew I had trouble. Big trouble. It was something about the way he moved.
I didn’t think. I reacted.
I gave him a high kick he wasn’t expecting. My toe snapped in under his chin. I felt a bone break. He squealed and ran backwards, arms flapping as he tried to keep his balance. A hitching post jumped in his way and gored him from behind. He spun around and went down, losing his knife as he fell.
I slid toward the nearest building.
Another came at me from what had been behind. He was an odd one, kid-sized but clad in a cast-off army work uniform. He was an albino. He had a nasty big knife. He stopped eight feet away, awaiting reinforcements.
There were at least three more, two across the street and one back up the way, standing lookout.
I took off my belt and snapped it at the albino’s eyes. That didn’t scare him but did give me time to frisk the building.
The buildings around there were a week short of foiling down. I had no trouble finding a loose, broken brick. I pulled it out and let fly. I guessed right and he ducked into it. I got him square in the forehead, then jumped him while his knees were watery, took his knife, grabbed him by the hair, and flung him toward the two coming across the street. They dodged. He sprawled.
I screeched like a banshee. That stopped the two. I feinted left, right, came back to fake a cut at the knife hand of the guy with the blade I’d taken, then snapped my belt at his eyes. He saved himself by jumping back.
He fell over the albino. I shrieked again and flung myself through the air. It never hurts to have them think you’re crazy. I landed with both knees on the guy’s chest, heard ribs crack. He squealed. I bounced away as the other came at me.
He stopped when he saw I was ready. I sidestepped and kicked the albino in the head. That’s me, Fairplay Garrett. At least I was going to get out alive. I looked around. Broken Jaw had taken a hike, leaving his knife. The lookout had opted for discretion.
“Just you and me now, Shorty.” He was no kid. None of them were, really. I should have seen it sooner. Kids that size aren’t out roaming the streets of TunFaire, they’re in the army. They keep taking them younger and younger.
They were dark-elf breeds, half elf, half human, outcasts from both tribes. The mix is volatile: amoral, asocial, unpredictable, sometimes crazy. Bad.
Like Morley, who’d managed to live long enough to learn to fake it.
My short friend wasn’t impressed by the fact that he was alone against somebody bigger. That’s another problem with darko breeds. Some don’t have sense enough to be scared.
I went back for my brick.
He shifted stance, held his knife like it was a two-handed sword. I teased him with the belt and tried to guess what he’d do when I let the brick fly. He was deciding to come at me when I did.
I went around and head-kicked the others to make sure they stayed down.
That got Shorty pissed. He came. I threw the brick. He dodged. But I hadn’t gone for the head or body. I’d gone for the foot I’d hoped he’d push off from. The part of him that would be last to move.
I got his toes. He yelped. I went in after him, belt, knife and feet.
He held me off.
Hell, we could dance all night. I’d done what I needed to do. How fast could he chase me on a bad foot?
I looked at the two guys down and heard my Marine sergeants: “You don’t leave a live enemy behind you.”
No doubt cutting their throats would have been a boon to civilization. But that wasn’t my style.
I collected dropped knives.
Shorty figured I was going to pull out. “Next time you’re dead.”
“Better not be a next time, chuko. Because I don’t give second chances.”
He laughed.
One of us was crazy.
I went away with a chill between my shoulders. What the hell was all that? They hadn’t been out to rob me. They’d been out to bust me up. Or kill me.
Why? I didn’t know them.
There are people who don’t have much use for me, but I couldn’t think of any who would go that far. Not all of a sudden, now. It was lightning out of a clear blue sky.
7
It never fails. When I step through the doorway into Morley’s place, the joint goes dead and everybody stares. They ought to be used to me by now. But I have this reputation for thinking I’m on the side of the angels and a lot of those guys are anything but.
I saw Saucerhead Tharpe at his usual table, so I headed that way. He was alone and had a spare chair.
Before the noise level rose, a voice said, “I’ll be damned! Garrett!” Whip crack with the name.
What do you know? Morley himself was working the bar, helping dispense the carrot, celery, and turnip juice. I’d never seen that before. I wondered if he watered their drinks after they’d had three or four.
Dotes jerked his head toward the stairs. I said, “How you doing?” to Saucerhead and sailed on by. He grunted and went on massacring a salad big enough to founder three ponies. But he was the size of three ponies and their mothers, too.
Morley hit the stairs behind me. “Office?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I went up and in. “Things have changed.” It looked less like the waiting room in a bordello, maybe because the inevitable lovely was absent. Morley, relaxing at home, always had something handy.
“I’m trying to change myself by changing my environment.” That was Morley sounding like Morley the vegetarian crackpot and devotee of obscure gurus. “What the hell are you up to, Garrett?” That was Morley the thug.
“Hey! How come the ice? I get antsy and walk down here to maybe tip a rhubarb brew with Saucerhead and I-”
“Right. You just decide to show up looking like the losing mutt at a dogfight.” He shoved me in front of a mirror.
The left side of my face was pancaked with blood. “Hell! I thought I ducked.” The short guy had gotten me while we were dancing, somehow. I still didn’t feel the cut. Some sharp knife.
“What happened?”
“Some of your crazy cousins jumped me. Chukos.” I showed him the three knives. They were identical, with eight-inch blades and yellowed ivory grips into which small b
lack stylized bats had been inset.
“Custom,” he said.
“Custom,” I agreed.
He picked up the speaking tube connecting with his barmen. “Send me Puddle and Slade. And invite Tharpe if he’s interested.” He smothered the tube, looked at me. “What are you into now, Garrett?”
“Nothing. I’m on vacation. Why? You looking for another chance to kite me and get out from under your gambling debts?’’ I realized it was the wrong thing to say before I finished saying it. Morley was worried. When Morley Dotes worries about me it’s time to shut my yap and listen.
“Maybe I deserve that.” His cohorts Puddle and Slade came in. Puddle I’d met before. He was a big, sloppy fat guy with flesh sagging in gross rolls. He was as strong as a mammoth, smart as a rock, cruel as a cat, quick as a cobra, and completely loyal to Morley. Slade was new. He could have been Morley’s brother. Short by human standards, he had the same slim, darkly handsome looks, was graceful in motion, and was totally self-confident. He, like Morley, was a flashy dresser, though Morley had toned it down considerably tonight.
Morley said, “I’ve managed not to put a bet down for a month, Garrett. With my willpower and a little help from my friends.”
Morley had a bad problem with gambling. Twice he’s used me to get out from under debts of lethal scale, which has been a cause of friction.
Morley’s vegetarian bar and restaurant and thug hangout is more hobby and cover than career. What he really does is bust kneecaps and break heads, freelance. Which is why he has his Puddles and Slades around.
Saucerhead came in. He nodded to everybody and dropped into a chair. It creaked. He didn’t say anything. He doesn’t talk much.
Saucerhead’s line splits the difference between mine and Morley’s. He’ll pound somebody for a fee but he won’t kill for money. He does mostly bodyguard and escort work. If he’s really short he’ll do collections. But never assassinations.
“Right, then,” Morley said, with the players in place. “Garrett, you’ve saved me a trip. I was going to drop by your place after we closed.”
“Why?’’ They looked at me like I was a freak-show exhibit instead of a broken-down, self-employed ex-Marine.
“You sure you don’t have something going?” “Nothing. Come on. What gives?” “Sadler dropped by. He had a message for the trade from the kingpin.” The kingpin is Chodo Contague, emperor of TunFaire’s underworld. He is a very bad man. Sadler is one of his lieutenants and a worse man. “Someone wants your head, Garrett. The kingpin is putting out word that whoever tries for it will answer to him.”
“Come on, Morley.”
“Sure. He’s as drifty as a fairy girl on weed. He’s obsessed with honor and favors and debts and balances. He thinks he owes you big and he’s by damned going to keep you alive to collect. If I was you I’d never do it, so I’d always have him behind me like my own pet banshee.”
I didn’t want a guardian angel. “That’s only good for as long as he stays alive.” Kingpins have a way of dying almost as frequently as Karenta’s kings.
“Gives you a vested interest in his health, don’t it?”
“One hand washes the other,” Saucerhead rumbled. “You really don’t got nothing shaking?” “Nothing. Zero. Zip. I’ve only had two prospects in the last ten days. I turned them both down. I’m not working. I don’t want to work. It’s too much like work. I’m perfectly happy just sitting around watching everybody else work.’’
Morley and Saucerhead made faces. Morley worked as much as he could because he thought it was good for him. Saucerhead worked all the time because he had to feed his huge body. Morley asked, “What about those prospects?” “Good-looking blonde this afternoon. Probably a class hooker. Had somebody harassing her and wanted it stopped. I gave it to Pokey Pigotta. Just before I came down here, an old guy who wanted me to find something he thought was lost. Now he’s looking for somebody else.”
Morley frowned. He looked at the others and found no inspiration there. He picked up the three chuko knives, handed one to Puddle, one to Slade, and tossed the other to Saucerhead, who said, “Chuko knife.”
Morley said, “Garrett had an encounter on his way down here. We don’t usually see gangs in the neighborhood. They know better. Tell us about it, Garrett.” My feelings were hurt. Nobody was impressed by the fact that I’d taken away three knives. I told it all. Saucerhead said, “I gotta remember that brick-on-the-toes trick.”
Morley looked at Puddle. Puddle said, “Snowball.”
Morley nodded. “That’s the albino, Garrett. A total crazy. Boss of a gang called the Vampires. He halfway thinks he’s a vampire. The one you left standing sounds like Doc, the brains of the gang. He’s crazier than Snowball. Won’t back down from anything. And him a bleeder. I hope you had sense enough to finish it while you could.”
He looked at me and knew I hadn’t.
“They’re crazies, Garrett. A big gang. As long as Snowball is alive they’ll keep coming. You embarrassed him.” He got out pen, ink, paper, and started writing. “Puddle. Take two men and see if there’s still anyone around out there.”
“Sure, boss.” A real genius, Puddle. I wondered who tied his shoes.
Morley scribbled. “The Vampires were way off their turf, Garrett. They come from North Reservoir Hill. Priam Street. West Bacon. Around there.”
I understood. They hadn’t come south on a lark. I hadn’t been a target of opportunity.
I got that chill between my shoulders again.
Morley sanded what he’d written, folded it, dashed something on the outside, then handed it to Slade. Slade looked at it, nodded, and walked out. Morley said, “If I was you, Garrett, I’d go home and bar my doors and sit tight with the Dead Man.”
“Probably a good idea.”
We both knew I wouldn’t. What if word got around that Garrett could be pushed?
Morley said, “I don’t keep up with street gangs. There’re too many of them. But the Vampires have been making a name. Getting ambitious. Snowball wants to be top chuko, captain of captains... Excuse me.”
His speaking tube was making noises. He picked it up. “I’m listening.” He held it to his ear. Then, “Send him up.” He looked at me. “You leave a broad trail. Pokey Pigotta is here looking for you.”
8
Pokey wandered in looking like a living skeleton. Morley said, “Plant yourself, Pokey,” and gave him that look he gives when he’s planning a new diet for someone. Part of Morley believes there’s no problem that can’t be solved by upping your intake of green leafies and fiber. He was certain we could achieve peace in our time if we could just get everybody to stop eating red meat. I asked, “You looking for me?” “Yes. I have to give you your money back. I can’t do the job.”
Pokey refusing work? “How come?” “Got a better offer to do something that’s more interesting, and I can’t handle both jobs. You want to farm it out to Saucerhead? I’ll give you what I got. For nothing.”
“You’re a prince. You doing anything, Saucer-head?” He wasn’t the best man for the job but what could I do? Pokey had set me up.
“Give me the skinny,” Saucerhead said. “I ain’t buying no pig in a poke.” He was suspicious because Pokey wanted out.
I gave him what I’d given Pokey, word for word. Pokey gave me my retainer, said, “I cased the area but didn’t make contact with the principal. The building is being watched, front and rear, by nonprofessionals. I assume the principal is their target, though the building contains nine other apartments. There’s a caretaker who lives in the basement. The tenants are all single women. The watchers left when it got dark. They went to the Blue Bottle, where they share a third-floor room as Smith and Smith. Once it was apparent they were off duty and were not going to be replaced, I went home. I found my new client waiting.”
Pokey described Smith and Smith, who sounded like your basic nondescript working stiffs.
“I can handle it, Garrett,” Saucerhead said. “If you don’t
want to keep it for yourself.”
I handed him the retainer. “Take care of the woman.”
Pokey said, “That takes care of my business. I’d better go. I want to get an early start.”
Morley grunted a farewell. He was changing. He ached to give Pokey some wholesome dietary advice, for his own good, but he bit his tongue.
What the hell? The world wouldn’t be half as interesting if Morley changed that much.
When just the two of us were left, he looked at me. “You’re really not into anything?”
“Promise. Cross my heart.”
“I never saw anyone like you, Garrett. I don’t know anybody else who could have chukos come all the way from the North End to whack him for taking a walk.”
That bothered me, too. It looked like I’d have to go to work whether I liked it or not. And it would be a double not. I make a lousy client. “Maybe they heard where I was headed.”
“What?”
“They might have gotten carried away by compassion for my stomach.”
“Stuff it, Garrett. I don’t need the aggravation.”
“Testy, eh? Maybe cold turkey on everything isn’t the way to go.”
“Maybe not.”
Puddle lurched in before we got going good. “Nothing but blood spots, Morley.”
“Didn’t think there would be. Thanks for going.” Morley looked at me. “When are you going to learn? Now Snowball has his ego tied up in it.”
“Maybe if I’d known who he was and his reputation —”
“Crap! That hasn’t got anything to do with giving him a second chance. You going to ask for references? Even Snowball probably has a mother who loves him.
That won’t keep him from setting your balls on fire if he gets the chance. I’m amazed that you’ve stayed alive as long as you have.”
He had a point. The world sure as hell doesn’t care about one man’s moral parameters. But I have to live with myself, too. “Might be because I have friends who look out for me. Come on downstairs. My treat.”
“I’ll pass. Buy yourself one. Carrot juice. Carrots are good for your eyes. You could stand to be a little more clear-sighted. Eat some fish, too. It’s supposed to be brain food.’’