Day of the Dogs

by Andrew Cartmel

  There was a prolonged rumbling sound as the stone fireplace sank away into the wooden floor of the study, revealing behind it a large vid screen set in the wall. The screen took on a creamy glow, then flickered to polychromatic life, revealing in grotesque close up the pitted pink face of a man, every pore, freckle, mole and whisker pitilessly displayed.

  It was a ratlike face, with a sharp nose, receding chin and disquietingly full and sensual red lips. Oily wings of silver hair were scraped back over the man's delicate ears. The rotating three-dimensional image on the screen revealed that his left ear was pierced with a large ring of crudely worked gold. The man wore a battered black felt hat, and a frayed white shirt with a pearl pin across the collar and a narrow black tie.

  "This is Preacher Tarkettle," said Asdoel Zo. The billionaire had dried his eyes and recovered his composure somewhat, much to Middenface's relief. He had also sent the solicitous trio of girls back out of the room, unfortunately sending the trays of food and drink with them. Middenface was beginning to feel a trifle hungry and more than a trifle thirsty. It had been a long morning, but he didn't feel he could raise these issues. After all, the poor man was talking about the fiend who'd murdered his family.

  "We first met him on McLoughlin's World," said Asdoel Zo in a toneless voice. "He said he had come there to enjoy an authentic old west adventure, just like myself and my family. He was quite a character, very popular at the hotel. Everyone liked him. Everyone wanted to sit on the same table as him."

  "So he must be pretty well-heeled, this Tarkettle," said Johnny. "To be able to afford an exclusive holiday like that."

  "On the contrary," said Asdoel Zo, "it seems he pawned everything he owned for the ticket there. Spent every penny he could borrow and mortgaged everything except his soul."

  "Why?"

  "Because it was his self-appointed mission in life. He wanted to get close to us, close to me and my family. We didn't know it at the time, of course. He cunningly concealed his true motive under a wild enthusiasm for the old west experience on McLoughlin's world. He was genuinely having the time of his life, investigating the haunted saloon in the old ghost town, or blasting away while riding shotgun in a stagecoach under Indian attack, or when riding with us through the long grass of the prairie on a buffalo hunt. He was enjoying himself all right, but he was also keeping an eye on us every minute. We never suspected a thing. We just thought he was the sort of harmless eccentric who is obsessed with this period in Earth's history."

  "The same period which you're so fond of," said Johnny.

  Asdoel Zo's voice was dangerously calm, all trace of the emotionally bereaved husband and father utterly gone. "I hope you're not comparing me with this psychotic murdering scum."

  "Just making an observation," said Johnny calmly.

  "In my case, fascination with the old west is a lifestyle choice. For Tarkettle it's a compulsive fixation. One of the two which rule his life."

  "And the other one?"

  "Is me," said Asdoel Zo. "He's obsessed with me."

  "But you didn't realise this when you met him on McLoughlin's World?"

  Asdoel Zo sighed and subsided back onto the leather sofa. "No. I only wish to God I had. Maybe everything would have turned out differently." He punched himself with great violence on his bare thigh just below the cuff of his black shorts. The brutal impact of the blow left a white mark at the centre of a flaring patch of red flesh. Middenface winced. "You can't blame yourself, Mr Zo," he said gently.

  "Oh yes I can," said Zo savagely. "Not that it does a damned bit of good." He looked at Johnny imploringly. "When we first met him he seemed perfectly harmless."

  "Even though you say he was obsessed with you."

  "When you're as rich as I am, Mr Alpha, you become accustomed to unwanted attention from the little people. People who want to idolise you. People who want to be like you. Or be you. I thought Tarkettle was just another one of that breed."

  "When did you learn different?"

  "Not until it was too late. Much too late." Asdoel Zo took a deep breath. "I was attending a charity event on Beesom 12 with my family when my security people got word about an alleged threat on my life. It was a very specific threat. I was supposed to be the sole target and the assassination attempt was supposed to take place when I was on the shuttle, returning to my star yacht in orbit above B12. So naturally, I insisted that Kathleen and the kids should stay on the planet."

  "Naturally," agreed Johnny.

  "We sent the shuttle back up with a robot crew and a squad of trained mercenaries on board. I followed it up into low orbit in a second craft, my personal ketch, with my bodyguards, to watch what happened." Zo fell silent.

  "What happened?" said Middenface.

  "Nothing," said Asdoel Zo. "The shuttle docked with my star yacht without incident. No sign of any trouble at all. My ketch also docked. I was on board the star yacht, safe and sound. Then we got word from the planet's surface..."

  "Tarkettle had gone after your family instead."

  Asdoel Zo looked at Johnny bleakly. "Precisely," he said. "We don't know if he got wind of the trap we set on the shuttle and switched targets, or whether it had been his fiendish plan all along to convince us that the threat was against me, and then to go after my family." Zo's voice was suddenly hoarse with old pain. "But whatever the precise details of his plan were, it worked. We put all the security effort on me and the shuttle, and only left a skeleton staff protecting Kathleen and Jodi and Lorna." He sighed. "And Tarkettle wiped them all out."

  The room was silent for a moment. Then Johnny said, "Why?"

  Asdoel Zo looked at him bleakly. "Why?"

  "What was Tarkettle's motive?"

  "Motive?" Zo's voice trembled. "Does it matter? He killed everyone I loved in my life. What the hell does his motive matter?"

  "It matters if it helps us find him."

  Zo sighed again. "You're right," he said. He paused and sat staring into space for a moment. "You see this?" He raised his hands in a gesture that took in the room, the house, the whole planet. "I built all this with money I earned from my business. And my business is advertising."

  "You make adverts?" said Middenface. It made absolute sense to him. Asdoel Zo's lifestyle was the kind of existence that Middenface had always enviously imagined highly paid media people enjoyed. Norms, that is. No mutant would ever be allowed to enjoy a glamorous career like that. Wealth and luxury were reserved for the norms.

  "I don't make ads. I own the companies that make them. If you've ever bought anything, I guarantee that one of my companies was involved in the business of selling it to you at some point. The gentle art of hidden persuasion. Gentlemen, that's the cornerstone of my fortune."

  Johnny nodded. "And this is why Tarkettle had a grudge against you?"

  Zo also nodded. "He had a hatred of advertising that amounted to a mania. It seems he felt his free will was in jeopardy, that his thoughts were under assault from outside influences, trying to take over his mind and control his behaviour."

  "He had a point though, didn't he?" said Johnny.

  Middenface stared in astonishment at his friend. The room had gone icily silent again. How could Johnny say something like that? "What do you mean, Johnny? You don't mean that this bloodthirsty lunatic had some kind of a point when he attacked the poor man's wife and kids?"

  Asdoel Zo held up his hand for silence. He was a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed and despite his laid-back appearance he possessed an enormous quiet authority. Middenface immediately shut up. Asdoel Zo peered at Johnny as if he was having trouble making out his features. "Are you referring to subliminals?"

  Johnny shrugged. "Isn't that the whole point of subliminal advertising? To get into the mind of consumers and affect their thinking?"

  Asdoel Zo took his phone out of his pocket and for a moment Middenface thought he was going to make a call, arranging for him and Johnny to be thrown out on their arses, and then presumably replaced by a pair of more com
pliant and less rude bounty hunters. He saw all the wonderful money Zo had promised, fluttering away.

  But instead Zo used the phone as a remote control, pointing it at the screen on the wall with Tarkettle's face on it.

  "I understand what you're saying about subliminals, Mr Alpha. And you may think you have a point. Or that Preacher Tarkettle had a point. But look at this man." The image kept on zooming in until Tarkettle's bloodshot eyes, blue as the sky and equally empty, filled the screen. "The notion that you're having your thoughts controlled by others is a classic symptom of psychotic schizophrenia," said Asdoel Zo. "That is to say, madness. Look at these eyes. Are they not the eyes of a madman?

  "Tarkettle was obsessed with the notion that he was no longer the sovereign ruler of his mind. He hated advertising and he hated the technology that had made it possible. In fact he was a Luddite."

  "A what?" said Middenface, imagining some exotic sexual perversion. He could see just such vicious strangeness lurking in the limitlessly cold blue eyes that filled the screen.

  "He means someone who hates machines," said Johnny Alpha. "Someone who hates them and smashes them every chance he gets."

  "You mean like the Picket Line Robot Assassins?" said Middenface.

  "Exactly like that. Except the PLRA is an organisation and Tarkettle was a lone fanatic who carried the concept well beyond the thresholds of madness. He intended to topple the entire empire of technology that made subliminal advertising possible and he saw me as the man at the head of the empire." He shrugged in self deprecation. "I suppose he saw himself as the man who was going to assassinate the emperor."

  "But he ended up getting the emperor's family instead."

  "Precisely, Mr Alpha."

  "And you want us to find him and bring him back?"

  "Dead or alive," said Asdoel Zo.

  "Okay," said Johnny. He leaned forward and shook hands with Asdoel Zo. Middenface released a sigh of relief. He felt like he'd been holding his breath for an hour. At last the deal was secured. Johnny wasn't going to lose them this dream job after all. Middenface leaned forward to take his turn shaking hands with their new employer. Zo grasped his mutant flesh without hesitation, squeezing Middenface's hand firmly and warmly.

  Johnny stood up. "Come on, Middenface."

  Asdoel Zo glanced at him in surprise. "Are you going somewhere?" Middenface was equally surprised, but the disappointment he began to feel was a familiar sensation. Johnny was all business. The idea of hanging around in the billionaire's mansion with all the beautiful girls bringing them food and drink just wouldn't feature in Johnny's mind. Johnny Alpha was a Strontium Dog, eager to be unleashed on his prey.

  "The sooner we get started, the sooner we can track down this Tarkettle." Johnny smiled a thin smile. "And collect our pay."

  Asdoel Zo stood up. "Very practical and very commendable. Obviously I want you to get started as soon as possible. But first there's something we must do." He lifted the phone and pointed at the wall. The image of Preacher Tarkettle's face vanished. The screen was swallowed by the wooden wall and a deep low grinding noise began somewhere below them. The fireplace rose back out of the floor again, the planks in the floor neatly moving aside to make way for it. This time there was a roaring fire flaring in the hearth. The flames cast golden light and shadows in a weaving pattern across Asdoel Zo's face. He smiled at Johnny and Middenface. "There's someone I want you to meet."

  Asdoel Zo led them back out through the trophy room where the parrots squawked and the flying vacuum cleaners buzzed. They passed back through the shuffling panels of the tall glass windows out onto the balcony. The cool perfumed wind from the jungle blew over them as they emerged from the house. The balcony was cool and spacious, and for some reason Middenface was glad to be back out. The rich man's house was a kind of temple of luxury and all the time he'd been in there, Middenface had been feeling uncomfortable, as though he was in the church of some strange religion - the religion of money - and might do something that was sacreligious or offensive. It was good to be back outside. He stretched and took a deep breath of fresh air, standing legs spread, arms akimbo and mouth wide open when he saw the woman.

  She was small with a preposterously narrow waist and, Middenface couldn't help noticing firm, round breasts. She was wearing blue jeans that might have been painted on her shapely legs and bottom, and a red and white checked shirt that was open to reveal a golden shadow of cleavage. Her face was oval with a full mouth, and button nose. The eyes were extraordinary: her left one pale blue and her right, deep brown. Middenface had once seen a picture of a wolf with eyes like that, and the woman had something of the same quality of a beautiful feral creature about her. She had severely cropped black hair with a silver streak running through it which would have been unflattering on anyone else, but on her it just served to emphasise the purity of her face.

  Middenface tried to extricate himself from his embarrassing stretch. "Er, hello," he said, casually lowering his arms to his side.

  "This is Hari Mata Karma," said Asdoel Zo.

  "Just call me HMK," said the woman.

  "Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Johnny.

  "HMK will be accompanying you on your mission," said Asdoel Zo. Johnny flashed the man a look of irritation and Middenface felt his heart sink. Just when the deal looked like it had been sealed, Johnny Alpha was going to pick a fight with their employer. Middenface could see this job swirling down the sewer after all.

  "What do you mean, accompany us?"

  "I'm an independent operator working under special licence," said the woman.

  "You mean without a licence."

  HMK smiled at him. "Don't be so distrusting, Mr Alpha. If you look into my background I'm sure you'll find all my paperwork in order." The way she said it, it seemed almost to be a sexual proposition, as if by paperwork she meant something else entirely. Middenface glanced at Johnny. Was he imagining things?

  "And besides," said HMK, "I have some special talents that you might find very interesting."

  Middenface decided he wasn't imagining things. The woman was being deliberately provocative, coming on to Johnny in a big way. And now she was glancing over at Asdoel Zo, as if to estimate what effect her behaviour was having on him. But the billionaire simply stood there, cool and relaxed as he took out another cigar and ignited it by touching it on his phone. He puffed away watching HMK and Johnny Alpha.

  "What do you think, Johnny?" said the woman. Middenface stared at his friend, waiting for a response. Surely even Johnny wasn't entirely immune from this woman's smouldering charms?

  "I think you're going to be trouble," said Johnny Alpha, and suddenly everybody on the balcony laughed. Asdoel Zo released a big lungful of cannabis smoke that shimmered in the air like a writhing blue veil. Middenface got a whiff of it and felt his head swim. Johnny waved his hand in the air, brushing the smoke away. "I don't like this, Mr Zo," he said.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr Alpha."

  "I don't like working with people I don't know."

  Asdoel Zo held his cigar out in front of him, frowning as he watch the smoke rising from the tip of it. "I'd hate to lose your services, Mr Alpha." He glanced at Middenface. "Mr McNulty..."

  "Johnny, can't we just..."

  "Stay out of this, Middenface. If we take someone on board with us they might turn out to be a dead weight. And that might get us killed." Johnny turned his glowing eyes to HMK. "No offence, ma'am."

  Hari Mata Karma smiled. "None taken."

  Asdoel Zo took another drag on his cigar. "Mr Alpha, you don't seem to quite grasp the scope of this operation. This is no ordinary manhunt, and Tarkettle is no ordinary adversary. It's not going to be a two man job."

  "You don't think so?" said Johnny coolly.

  "No. In fact I think it's more like a seven man job."

  "Seven!"

  "I'm footing the bill for this operation, Mr Alpha, and I intend to see that it's done right, with no scrimping or false economy."

&
nbsp; "I've had experience working with large teams before," said Johnny, "and I don't like it. It's an unwieldy size for a hunting party and people get killed." Middenface knew what Johnny was thinking of. Their ill-fated mission on the strange world of Epsilon 5 with its lethal time distortion effect. Middenface shuddered to remember it.

  "I'm convinced it's a seven man - or man and woman - job," Zo glanced at HMK. "And I'm perfectly willing to let you vet the other members of your team. You can decide if they're good enough for you to take on. You have absolute right of veto." Zo paused and put his hand lightly on the woman's shoulder, "Except in the case of Hari Mata Karma. I insist that she goes along with you. She is what you might call a deal breaker."

  "Okay," said Johnny. "Maybe breaking this deal is exactly what we ought to do."

  "Oh, no," said Middenface. "Just when we were home and dry. Come on, Johnny..."

  "Stay out of this, partner," said Johnny Alpha. "I'm not taking anybody on my team if I think they're wrong. That includes this little lady."

  "Little lady," said HMK. "I love it. You're so chivalrous, Mr Alpha. Now I absolutely insist on joining you in the hunt for this Tarkettle bastard."

  "Hari Mata Karma is part of the deal," said Asdoel Zo firmly, with a note of amusement in his voice, "or there is no deal." Johnny directed his searching, glowing gaze as Asdoel Zo. The contest of wills between the two men was palpable. "In that case," said Johnny, "I guess me and Middenface are just going to have to say thanks but no..."

  "Wait a minute, Mr Alpha," said HMK. The woman smiled a brilliant, provocative smile. "Why don't you test drive me?" Middenface shook his head in wonder. Was the woman utterly incapable of uttering anything that wasn't couched in sexual innuendo?

  "Test drive you?" said Johnny.

  "Put me in a situation and see how I behave. Test me. Then decide for yourself if I'm the breed of Strontium Dog you want in your pack."

  "You'll let me choose the situation?" said Johnny.

  "Naturally." The small woman smiled. "You're the boss."