"Take these chains off me," said Johnny, "and I'll give you an experience like no other."
Asdoel Zo chuckled, emitting a mouthful of sweet herbal smoke. "A tempting offer, but no thanks."
"I don't get it," said Slim. His voice was mournful and pained, the cry of a confused beast in a snare. "Why did you bring us all here?"
"I was just getting to that," said Asdoel Zo. He strolled over and stood beside his wife, reaching out to put his arm around her shoulders. She shrugged off his embrace and moved a small distance away from him. Zo puffed on his cigar, not visibly upset by her rebuff. "You may feel that I've lied to you fellows..."
"Lied?" spat Middenface. "Is there one thing you've told us that was true?"
"Plenty," said Zo affably. "It's absolutely true that I'm an old west enthusiast and that I'm a passionate man who'll spare no expense pursuing my passions."
"Good for you," said Middenface.
"Don't sound so bitter, my friend."
"He's no friend of yours," said Johnny Alpha grimly.
"You're right there, Johnny," said Middenface.
"Frankly I don't understand all this hostility," said Asdoel Zo. He glanced at his wife. "Do you, dear?"
"No, I can't say that I do. But you know what they say."
"No, what do they say, dear?"
Hari Mata Karma Zo smiled a bright smile. "The rich are different."
Middenface stared up at her through bloodstained eyes in a ravaged face. "You can say that again, you wee back-stabbing whore."
"Watch the mouth, McNulty," said Asdoel Zo, striding forward and standing directly in front of Middenface. He drew one leg back, shifting his balance, and Middenface braced himself to receive a brutal kick in the face. But the kick never came.
"Don't do that, Asdoel," said HMKZ, who was restraining her husband. "Don't hurt the poor fellow. I quite like the salty dialogue. It sort of adds to the sense of occasion, don't you think? Lends a certain piquant authenticity."
"Whatever you say, dear," said Asdoel Zo. He abandoned his kicking stance and instead, inhaled deeply on his cigar and blew a mouthful of blue smoke at Middenface. Middenface coughed and shook his head helplessly. "You should thank me for that," said Zo. "These are very expensive cigars. You're privileged to share them."
"Besides," said HMKZ, "where do you get off, suddenly pretending that you care about my feelings?"
Asdoel Zo looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean, darling?"
"We'll talk about it later. After you've finished filling the boys in."
Asdoel Zo shrugged and turned back to the three kneeling men. "There's not much to tell, really. Tarkettle was never the real threat. He never harmed my family. He was merely a decoy."
"A hunting decoy," said Johnny.
Asdoel Zo smiled around his cigar. "Why, that's right, Johnny. It seems I still enjoy a good, old fashioned bloodhunt... So I assembled the galaxy's top bounty hunters for an entertaining little extravaganza, in which they are played off against each other."
"Sorry to spoil your fun," said Middenface, "but it won't work."
"Don't be so sceptical, McNulty. You haven't heard the whole plan."
Slim Drago stared at him in confusion. "What plan?"
"We don't need to hear it," said Middenface.
"He's right," said Johnny. "You're not going to get us to fight each other for your amusement."
"Not just for my amusement," said Asdoel Zo. "There's an exciting bonus prize." He glanced over at his wife. "Isn't that right, dear? Tell the boys."
HMKZ sighed and said, "The lucky survivor will be given their freedom plus their fee, plus the fees of all those who have died."
"Everybody else's fee?" said Slim Drago.
Asdoel Zo gave an encouraging smile. "That's right. And it will add up to quite a handsome jackpot."
"What do we have to do?" said Slim. He suddenly sounded interested. Middenface and Johnny exchanged a glance.
Asdoel Zo took a last puff on his cigar, then dropped the smouldering stub to the flagstones and ground it out in a shower of sparks under his sandal. "It's quite straightforward. The whole deadly game will be played out using old west-style weaponry. We set you down out there," he gestured towards the vast desert beyond the fort. "You'll be armed to the teeth and provided with enough food and water to last you a week, which should be plenty of time. All you have to do is hunt down your erstwhile colleagues and dispatch them." He leaned close to Slim Drago and smiled at him. "Sound good, big fella?"
To Middenface's horror, Slim smiled back and slowly nodded his head. Asdoel Zo turned to Middenface and Johnny and beamed at them. "You see? It doesn't matter if you two don't want to play. Enough of the others have agreed to set the ball well and truly rolling."
"I don't believe it," said Middenface.
"It's true," said HMKZ in a wistful voice. "Sorry about that, Middenface. I guess it makes you rather disappointed in human nature."
"Who's agreed to this murderous bloody scheme?" demanded Middenface.
"Hmm." Asdoel Zo frowned and counted on his fingers. Then the frown disappeared and he smiled brightly. "It's easier to tell you who hasn't agreed to it. Because it was only one person."
"Granny Haxer," said Johnny.
Asdoel Zo grinned at him. "That's right! Granny Haxer was as outraged as you and McNulty here. But apart from the old girl, everyone else in the posse has agreed to the arrangement. In fact the idea actually sounds pretty good to them, especially the bit about the survivor collecting everybody's fees."
"Except that there won't be a survivor," said Johnny.
"My, what a cynical thing to say." Asdoel Zo took another cigar from one pocket of his shirt and his golden, wafer-thin phone from the other. He used the phone to slice off one end of the cigar and ignite the other. He puffed on it meditatively. "Why would you think a thing like that?"
Johnny stared up at him, his unearthly eyes full of cold hatred. "Because whatever Strontium Dog manages to kill all the others will simply be used as prey in a safari by you and your family." Asdoel Zo glanced at his wife. She looked steadily back at him. Neither said anything, but some kind of brief, silent communication went on between the two of them. After a moment, Asdoel Zo looked back at Johnny.
"Whatever gave you an idea like that?"
"You're a hunter," said Johnny. "You like to hunt, not just watch." Middenface, who had been horrified by his friend's blunt accusation, remembered the trophy room in Asdoel Zo's mansion, full of the heads of beasts slaughtered on safari. He realised that Johnny was probably right.
"Don't try to psychoanalyse me, Johnny," said Asdoel Zo. His wife was studying the diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist. She looked at Zo and he caught the look. "My better half is reminding me of the time, so we'd better wrap this up."
"Wrap it up any way you want," said Johnny. "We're not playing your game."
"I'm afraid you don't have any choice, my friend. You see, after your little contretemps with the cannons, I had my medical team check you over. They made sure there was no serious damage. But they also put some depot meds in you."
"What's that?" said Slim anxiously.
"Nothing to worry about, my ox-like friend. Merely some implanted drugs timed to go off at specific intervals. That's why you all woke up at the same time. And it's why you're all about to go back to sleep."
"Back to sleep?" said Slim. His voice was beginning to slur and his head lolled forward as Middenface watched. Middenface tried to turn his head and see what was happening to Johnny, but it was too late. A welling flow of blackness rose up within him, swamping his vision and floating him away towards a dark, vast ocean.
Middenface awoke feeling bright, alert and free of pain. He sat up, pleased to discover that he was no longer in chains. He put a hand to his face and found that it had been cleaned of blood and that his wounds had been expertly tended to. Only then did he look around at his surroundings.
He was no longer in the courtyard. As a matter of fact
, he was nowhere near the fort and didn't recognise the terrain at all. He seemed to be in a small box canyon filled with sunlight. It was a meandering cleft between two shoulders of rock. At the far end was an opening in a wall of rock, an opening into a man-made cave. The rusted rails that extended into the opening, the piles of rock and the old ore cars lying on their side suggested that it had once been some kind of mine.
Middenface had been lying in the open, in the middle of the canyon, on a thick blanket. A second blanket lay on the ground, rolled up in a bundle, with the stock and muzzle of what looked like a rifle jutting from either end. Middenface inspected this weapon first. It came with a set of instructions that explained it was a Hale percussion carbine with a tip-up breech which could be detached at the removal of a single screw, effectively turning the carbine into a pistol for close quarters fighting. The instructions were clear, informative, chatty and obviously written by a fanatical enthusiast - probably Asdoel Zo himself, Middenface decided with a scowl of disgust. He did practise converting the breech into a pistol, however, and found that it was surprisingly easy.
Then he unrolled the blanket and found that it also contained a hundred rounds of ammunition, matches, candles, a knife, a coil of rope and half a dozen bags of food. A quick inspection told him that the food was mostly dried fruit and beef jerky. Rationed judiciously it would last at least a week. There was also a large, metal canteen padded on the outside with grey and red striped felt. But the canteen was empty. What about water?
Then he noticed the large trough of water standing under a dead tree. He went to it and filled his canteen, holding it under the water until it was full. He sealed the canteen and slung it over his shoulder. The trough was fed by a pipe, which seemed to tap some kind of natural underground source.
There were all sorts of other dangers, though. Middenface quickly rolled up his supplies in the blanket again, added the second blanket to the unwieldy bundle, and carried it on his shoulder into the cool dark mouth of the mine.
Once he was inside he realised it wasn't a mine at all just a neat hole carved in the rock, an artificial cave that went back about fifteen metres in a slow curve. The rails only extended inside about three metres. Of course it wasn't real. It had only been built for appearance's sake, to provide one more authentic, western tableau for Asdoel Zo's amusement on this planet. Nonetheless, it made a good temporary refuge. Middenface moved along the curving tunnel until the daylight faded out of sight. Then he lit a candle and laid his new belongings out neatly in the flickering yellow light.
The floor of the cave was flat and smooth, obviously carved out by modern machinery. Maybe by lasers. The illusion of the old west on this planet was only superficial. Middenface wondered where Johnny was, and he hoped his friend had found himself as well situated and equipped as Middenface was.
There was no point speculating, or worrying, until he knew some more in the way of solid facts. Tomorrow he would set off in search of Johnny. But right now the sunlight outside was failing and the only thing that made sense was to rest and husband his strength. Middenface lay down on one blanket with the other rolled into an improvised pillow, and the Hale carbine in easy reach. Then he slept the sleep of exhaustion.
When he woke, the candle had long since burned out. His whole body seemed to be on fire with a terrible thirst. He rolled off his blankets and moved quickly along the tunnel. In his mind was the metal trough under the tree, with its sweet load of cold water. All he wanted to do was bury his face in that trough and drink and drink, until he was full. As he hurried through the tunnel, it occurred to him that he should be taking the carbine with him. But the need for water seemed to drive all such considerations from his mind. Middenface felt distinctly strange, feverish and light headed. He forced himself to stop. He was halfway along the tunnel. He should go back for the gun. It seemed such a weary, long distance to go. And the opening of the mine was just as near, and when he reached it he would be out in the night with the water...
Middenface found his feet moving again. Without conscious volition he was hurrying along the tunnel. There was a strange, nagging thought in his mind. He'd left something behind back there, with his gun and his supplies. Sweat ran down Middenface's brow. He tried to think clearly. What was he leaving behind, besides the protection of his weapon?
Then he remembered. The canteen. There was a canteen full of water lying within easy reach. He didn't need to go outside. But, oddly, the realisation didn't slow him down at all. He had rounded the curve in the tunnel and could see the moonlit mouth of the cave.
That was when he realised that it wasn't water, which he thirsted for, and it wasn't the trough that was drawing him outside.
He moved through the shadows of the tunnel, slowly but steadily, with the stride of a condemned man who was resigned to his fate. When he reached the mouth of the cave he stood for a moment looking out into the moonlight that filled the canyon. And he saw her, just as he knew he would.
She was standing under the skeleton shape of the old dead tree, beside the trough with its glassy water reflecting the pale shine of the moon. In her hands was a long rifle of some kind. On her head was a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. Her clothes were new, but he had no trouble recognising her, standing there in the shadows and the moonlight. He could have recognised her with his eyes shut.
Stella Dysh stood under the tree, patiently waiting. She wasn't looking towards him. She didn't need to. Whatever direction her prey came from, it would come willingly, and it would come to her and stand there patiently, not resisting, not complaining, as she did whatever she wanted. Middenface knew all this, but he knew it as an abstract, unimportant fact in a distant corner of his mind. The only thing that mattered was that he would step out of the cave and go to the woman who was singing the siren's song, and kneel before her in the moonlight and submit. It was the moment his whole life had been moving towards. It was the ending that would give meaning to everything that had gone before.
It was his destiny.
Middenface moved forward, to step through the mouth of the cave and out into the moonlight. And as he moved there was a sound from outside. A rattling shift of rocks, carelessly stirred by hurrying feet. Middenface watched as if in a dream, as a tall figure appeared at the far end of the canyon, silhouetted in the moonlight. The size of the figure left him no doubt in who it was.
Slim Drago came hastily into the canyon. He had a shotgun in his big hands, but it might as well have been a lute, clutched by a medieval swain rushing to serenade his true love. Slim obviously had no intention of firing the gun. He held it flat against his chest as he stumbled across the floor of the canyon to the tree where Stella Dysh was standing.
Stella had turned to face Slim, but apart from this small motion she hadn't stirred a muscle. She was neither surprised nor excited. Simply waiting patiently. As Slim approached her, she slowly lifted her rifle and pointed it at him. The rifle didn't discourage Slim. He didn't even seem to notice it. He gave a wide idiot grin as he approached Stella.
He reached the skeletal tree and stood under it, with her, in the moonlight. Stella said something that Middenface couldn't hear. Slim set his shotgun down, leaning it neatly against the trough.
Then he turned to Stella and she said something else. Slim smiled and obediently opened his mouth.
Stella put the barrel of her rifle in it. Slim did nothing to resist. He was still trying to smile, with the rifle barrel in his mouth, when she pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot was muffled by Slim's skull but it was still a flat, hard sound that echoed around the canyon. Slim dropped to the ground, dragging the rifle, which was still in his mouth, with him. Stella cursed and slowly wrestled the rifle free of the corpse's jaws. Then she kneeled beside Slim's body and took out a knife. Middenface saw the knife blade gleam in the moonlight as Stella cut off a lock of Slim's hair, working fastidiously around the bloody ruin that was now the back of his head. When she was finished, she put the hair carefully in her p
ocket and turned and walked out of the canyon, the rifle slung jauntily over her shoulder.
When she was gone, Middenface slumped down in the mouth of the cave, sat on the rocks, and wept.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BLOOD HUNT
Charlie Yuletide was riding the horse that had bitten him, looking distinctly uncomfortable, with his banjo in his lap. He made his way along a familiar, dry river bed and up a slope into the box canyon with the old mine works in it. There, beside the dead tree, were Asdoel Zo and his wife Hari Mata Karma in matching safari outfits.
They were standing above a long, low mound of earth with a crude cross, fashioned from two sticks, stuck in at one end. They looked up from the mound as Charlie rode into the canyon. "Mr Zo!" cried Charlie with hearty insincerity. "What an unexpected treat. What brings you here?"
"I brought him here," said his wife. "I wanted to check on you."
"Check on me?"
HMKZ snorted. "I left this entire aspect of the operation up to my husband, so I thought I'd better do an inspection. Just to see what kind of a dog's breakfast he's making of it."
"Oh come on now," said Asdoel Zo. "That's uncalled-for."
"Is it? I'm only just discovering what you got up to with that zebra-striped Jezebel you hired to impersonate me."
Asdoel Zo shrugged and grinned. "One tiny slip..."
"One? What about those little gardening trollops of yours?"
"But dear. We had to maintain the fiction of your death. I was supposed to be a man alone, a widower. Nonetheless, a man with a man's needs. It would have looked strange if I..."
"A period of mourning is traditional, you know," said HMKZ in an icy voice.
Charlie Yuletide wasn't listening to either of them. He was staring down at the long, low mound with the crude cross stuck in it. It was a big grave, for a big man. He said, "There isn't really somebody buried in that, is there?"
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