Hunters & Collectors

by M. Suddain

  ‘He’s bluffing,’ said Gladys.

  ‘Am I? Would you stake your life on that? Oh, wait, you already have.’

  ‘Sorry, what do you mean “removal”?’

  He looked slowly over at me. ‘I can’t be any more specific. We have reached the end. Do you understand the implications of what I’m telling you?’

  ‘Yes. It seems as if you’re telling me I’m not going to get my meal.’

  ‘… That is … one consequence, yes.’

  I stood in the centre of the room, a position of weakness. I looked at my employees on their high stools at the bar. ‘Friends,’ I said, ‘will you excuse us for a few minutes?’ They looked confused, then slid off their stools and headed for the den. ‘Not the den. I have private work in there.’ With neither prepared to let the other enter their sanctum, they headed to the main bathroom and shut the door.

  ‘Now look, Murial.’ I sat quickly down at the far end of the negotiating table and extended my hands in a gesture of conciliation. ‘I really couldn’t give a weapons-grade dump what happens to those two; frankly their service has been very disappointing. I’m as angry as you, believe me. Maybe not room-sheeted-in-plastic angry.’ I took a moment to look around the half-covered room. They were using staple guns to attach the sheets of plastic. I was trying to muster myself not to jump with every gunshot. ‘… But there will be punishments, I can assure you. I’m no soft touch. Still, I think we can stop short of removal, can’t we? Whatever removal means in this instance, we should stop short of it. You’re a tough man. A direct man. But you’re no removal man.’

  He held my gaze. ‘It’s Mr Shabazzniov.’

  ‘Sure, and I see the point you’re trying to make. Deeds have been done. Look, though, people upstairs won’t be happy with this. Doctor Rubin –’

  ‘Has no say in this. I don’t know what he’s been telling you, or promising you, but he’s exceeded his remit.’

  ‘Right, but Gladys is –’

  ‘Finished. She’s –’

  We both looked up to see Gladys appear, palms raised. ‘Don’t let me interrupt, just getting ice.’ We waited while she snuck barefoot across to the bar and found an ice bucket. We gazed across the table at each other with sombre expressions as she noisily filled the silver bucket with silver cubes. Then we watched her together as she strode, sway-hipped, across the room with the bucket, and a nearly full bottle of John Barleycorn, gave what might pass for a quick smile of apology, an encouraging thumbs up to me, then vanished into the bathroom.

  ‘What are they going to do with a whole bottle of Barleycorn and no mixer?’

  He looked blankly at me.

  ‘And no glasses.’

  Nothing.

  ‘Look, Shabazzniov, you’re a reasonable … kind of a man. And these people are strange, and unruly, and insane, let’s face it. But they’re my people. You understand. You have your people, and they’re unruly too. But these are my people, and I’m responsible for them. I’m loyal to them. So. Let’s negotiate.’

  He observed me coldly. ‘In a few minutes that phone will ring. A voice on the other end will give me a set of precise orders. I will carry them out. That is loyalty. There is no negotiation. She’s finished. Give us back the contract and we might consider letting you live.’

  I considered what the man across the table had told me. This smug little phantom. I was tired of smug faces. I stood up, went to the bar where the telephone set had been left. Then I picked up the entire set, smashed it once, twice, three times against the marble bar. Pieces of metal and plastic shot off across the room. The sheeters stopped their sheeting, froze. I nodded to them. Then I went back and took my place at the table.

  ‘You think that changes a thing?’

  I shrugged. My friends came cautiously out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of smoke. I saw a blob of shaving foam on Beast’s earlobe. He carried the ice bucket in his paw as if it were a perfectly ordinary cocktail tumbler. ‘Woodbine, Gladys, we now have a hostage scenario. We are at Burnt Umber Status. If this man moves from that chair, shoot him in the face.’ Gladys shrugged, went to get her arsenal.

  ‘This is madness.’

  ‘Probably, Murial. Though I’d hardly take notes on sanity from the staff of this establishment. I for one have had enough. Fuck this induction, and fuck my meal in the Undersea. You say we have nothing to negotiate with? We have you.’

  Gladys returned to the table with two auto-pistols, her feet crackling over the plastic sheeted floor. The pistols made a heavy thud as she set them on the table near her own engraving. She sat. The sheeters finished up their work, grabbed their tools and hurried out. The door slammed. Oh the stories they’ll tell in the halls. I went to flick the sign on after they’d left.

  ‘You can’t keep me hostage here. I’m not here at all. You are keeping the air as prisoner, Tamberlain, and the only thing keeping you alive is that “Do Not Disturb” sign, and the fact you were wise enough not to destroy that contract. There’s no purpose in this.’

  ‘Yes there is. It’s my purpose. It’s my wish to keep you as a hostage.’

  ‘No!’ The concierge hit the table with his fist so hard the wood split; G’s gun was in her hand in an instant. ‘There’s no your wish here!’ Flecks of unreal spittle were flying across the table. ‘There is only our wishes, and if you stand in our way we’ll burn you alive.’

  ‘Yes. You realise that table once belonged to a prince.’ My ears still rang. There was a jagged lightning-bolt crack reaching from one side of the table to the other. Beast tottered helplessly on his plastic-covered bar stool. G had the muzzle of her pistol an inch from Shabazzniov’s temple, arm rigid, and she has never, Colette, looked more attractive.

  ‘Your speed is impressive, Ms Green. But I don’t think you quite realise what we’re capable of. It is truly a remarkable hospitality system Doctor Rubin has designed. Did you know that we can access your pain meridians directly? We can make you feel discomfort in ways I’m sure you’ve never experienced. Have you ever been flayed, Ms Green? We can show you what it feels like to be flayed alive. We can do it without killing you. We can do it for as long as we fancy. We can make it go on for days. We can add a routine which keeps you conscious through the procedure. And if it still doesn’t seem to us as if the pain is sufficient, we can add more layers. We can show you what it feels like to be flayed with a white-hot knife, or with a pair of surgical scissors dipped in strong acid. These are the stakes. We are capable of all this, and so much more, and there’s nothing you, or your whore Huntresses, can do about it. We can paint with a palette of agony, and we can ensure that the person inflicting this damage on you is the person more dear to you than any other, the person whose name is most deeply written on your heart.’

  Gladys Green did not even swallow. They only thing to betray her emotion was a faint sheen of silvery sweat visible on the palm which held the gun.

  ‘Well. I must say that sounds delightful.’

  ‘It is, Tamberlain. It is thoroughly and completely delightful. I can only feel delight at what awaits this girl. You can’t stay awake forever. You can’t stay in this room forever. You have to blink some time. So keep me here. It makes no difference. You’re not the only one who has a hostage. We have the mysterious Man in the White Dress in our sights.’ I caught a brief tick in her gun-hand. ‘My men are hunting him down. Following the trail of his blood. Your whore Huntresses can’t do anything about it’

  She kept her hand steady. Her breathing even. ‘Why would I care what happens to him?’

  He smiled at her. ‘I know. He’s not exactly your type. But you should care because what’s about to happen to him is your fault. Protect the innocent. Isn’t that the mantra of the Bear? Well, you haven’t managed to protect him. Oh, the things we’re going to do to him. And it’s all because of you. So let’s end this. Tell me where the contract is. Tell me where you’ve hidden our extinguishers. Your cooperation might ease his suffering. Somewhat.’

  Gladys
put the gun down on the table.

  ‘That’s it? You surrender? Just like that?’

  ‘I’m not surrendering. I’m just not going to shoot you in the face like you want me to.’

  ‘Why would I want you to do that?’

  ‘Because then you’d be free? As long as I keep you here you can’t see what’s happening out there.’

  ‘I know what’s happening out there. Your Huntresses have been lured into a trap. They’re being slaughtered. Your big play has failed. And my best men are preparing a reception for the Man in the White Dress.’

  G shrugged bravely. But I could see. Maybe Shabazzniov could, too, because he smiled at her again. ‘Don’t be upset. Nothing you do makes any difference. You’re confronting elemental forces far beyond you. You might as well go outside and fight the seas. Nothing can save you now.’

  The phone rang. Even Shabazzniov jumped. The smashed and broken phone rang eight times while we looked at each other. Shabazzniov stood smartly, croaked across the plastic to answer it. He picked up the broken receiver from the floor and held it to his ear.

  ‘Yes … Yes … Yes, I understand.’ Such a shadow fell across his face. ‘If that’s your decision. Yes, I will fetch him.’ He held out the receiver towards me, but kept his gaze on the far wall. I went to take the phone. Its cable was severed. It felt burning hot from Shabazzniov’s grip. A familiar voice said, ‘My Master has given the final order to kill her, yes? He doesn’t care what’s in her head. But I have just lied to Shabazzniov and told him the Master gave her one last reprieve. Do you know the implications of this? For all of us? Nod if you do? Good. The sleep remedy I designed will make the system think she’s dead. Look in the den? There is no other way. It’s all up to you now.’

  The line went dead. I went into the den. Things were exactly as I left them, except that there was a clean white towel on the desk. In its folds I found a purple vial, and a pink envelope. Inside was an invitation, printed on heavy card. There was also a note on a slip of yellow paper.

  You get no more chances. Love, R.

  HOTEL GRAND SKIES: THE EMPYREAN

  Invites you to attend dinner in the Undersea.

  Elevator 1 will be reserved for you at precisely 8 p.m.

  A reasonable standard of dress is requested.

  No ‘additionals’.

  Mr Rojiibo looks forward to serving you.

  With warmest regards,

  The Master of the House

  NOTES ON POISONING GLADYS

  I’m upstairs, Colette. I did what needed to be done. The only thing that could be done. I hope you agree. I hope this reaches you. I’ve been left to shower and dress before my dinner. My luggage was waiting for me. My new apartment is large and comfortable. Much larger than the one I had. There is a well-stocked bar – though I barely feel like drinking. Must look to the future. I’m here because I have a plan. It’s a kind of plan.

  When I came out of the den Shabazzniov considered me coldly. ‘I can’t even begin to comprehend how, but your gambit seems to have earned you one final lifeline. I hope you make the most of it. Ms Green, I’ll be seeing you very soon, I suspect.’

  Then he left.

  They let us out for a drink while they put our apartment back in order. We went to the Mirror Lounge. Nothing to say, though. Beast is usually the one to fill these silences. But he wasn’t himself. He went off to vomit after Shabazzniov left. It was all too much for him. G took him in a glass of water, came out a few minutes later and said, ‘The infection’s worse.’

  ‘Infection? What infection?’

  ‘The one in his finger, John. Seriously, how far up your own arse do you live?’

  I thought back. The sweats. The shakes. The fact that at one point he’d said, ‘I hope this thing isn’t infected.’ He’d taken to his bed. I went in to see him. Found him sweating and mumbling in the darkness. ‘Why do this? What does this prove? It’s all madness.’

  ‘Beast?’

  ‘Wha-ssat?’

  ‘We’re gonna go for a drink in the Danger Club. Come on, get dressed. Operation Danger Club.’

  ‘What? No. Not out there. I’m done. They’re monsters. All of them. I’ll never leave this room. Not ever. This is my home. My cocoon.’

  He was pale green. Hated to see him like this. He was my idea of what a man should be. ‘Well, how about the Mirror Lounge then? Yeah? You liked the Mirror Lounge.’ I gave him his drink and convinced him to take an Exocet. ‘I’ve called the nurse, Beast. She’ll bring something for your infection.’

  ‘No, Boss, I won’t see her. I’m done with these people.’

  ‘Well, I have my pharmacopoeia back. I have medicines in there. I have tranqs and black-market antibiotics.’

  ‘How do you know it’s your pharmacy, Boss? They could’ve replaced it. They can replace our things and we wouldn’t even know.’

  ‘Come on, Beast, that’s crazy speak.’

  ‘Oh, I’m the crazy one? No, I’m the only sane one here. And I’m done with this shit. I’m sick of being scared. You know I haven’t taken a shit since we arrived? Too clenched.’

  ‘Beast, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I need you. I need you more than ever. There’s one last job I have to do and I can’t do it without you.’

  Through a series of tiny encouragements, and with the help of G, and some of my better medicines, I got him to the Mirror Lounge. A drink was what we needed. A drink and a talk. Gladys insisted on coming, which made things difficult, but eventually she went to use the conveniences. I’d dosed him up with happy pills; he seemed much better. ‘Look, Beast, I’m going to say some stuff now and it’s going to sound insane.’ I quickly ran through the state of play: Gladys, the fact that they brought her here to access the contents of her head, but because of her disruptive behaviour they were no longer interested in the contents of her head, they just wanted her dead, and the only way to save her was to dose her like a carietic tiger. ‘If she sleeps deep enough the system will think she’s dead.’

  ‘Yep, that does sound completely insane. Fun!’ He swilled the olive around his pyramid glass. ‘These are good.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘What are they called?’

  ‘White Oysters. You remember. Listen. Lepold just wants her gone. Rubin has given us one last chance.’

  ‘Who’s Lepold? The shark-head guy?’

  ‘No. That’s Murial.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Shabazzniov.’

  ‘The doctor guy?’

  ‘That’s Rubin. Doctor Rubin is in love with Gladys. He paints nude pictures of her while she’s sleeping. He wants to help us help her escape, but he also wants to make a kind of copy of her so he can keep her forever and possibly make her bear his children.’

  ‘Crazy. That’s not helping someone.’

  ‘… No. He wants me to slip her a sleeping drug which will put her in a … a … complicated … sleep thing. Basically they’ll think she’s dead. He wants me to bring her unconscious to Elevator 1 so he can scan her into his system.’

  ‘Pffft. Sounds complicated.’

  ‘I know, too complicated. And I don’t trust Doctor Rubin as far as I could throw him.’

  ‘You could probably throw him a ways. You’re pretty strong.’

  ‘Sure. So. I have a better plan. Dose Gladys, yes, so they think she’s dead, but don’t hand her over to the doctor. Now, after we dose her I’m gonna go upstairs so Rubin thinks I’ve gone along with his plan. You listening? This is important. You’re gonna get her to the last life-pod before anyone knows what the hell-fuck is happening.’

  ‘Hotshot. And what does Gladys think of all this?’

  ‘… She doesn’t know about this plan, Beast. She can’t know about it.’

  ‘Oh. Makes sense.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad.’

  Our bartender, Stamper, was close by, polishing glasses and observing our conversation with a smile.

  ‘I’m just … I’m really happy right now,
Boss. Look at this place.’

  ‘OK, Beast, try to focus. The doc has given me the sleep remedy. I need you to trust me on this. What do you say? Gladys takes exactly seventy-eight seconds to pee.’

  Woodbine drained his glass and smacked his lips in thought, squaring up to his own reflection in the wall of glass behind the bar. ‘I’m big.’

  ‘Yeah, Beast. You’re a big guy.’

  ‘God, look at me. I could maybe throw you.’

  Stamper walked away to put the clean glasses on the shelf, but he did so without looking at his work. In the mirror behind the bar I could see his eyes staring at us. Woodbine wobbled briefly on his stool, snatched his balance back just in time. ‘Woh! Who said that?’

  ‘Take a few deep breaths, Beast. And here, take another drink.’ I gestured to Stamper to fill our empty glasses. ‘Quickly now, she’s a fast pisser.’

  Stamper made the drinks in a series of blindingly nimble movements. He shook the ice in the shaker so rapidly it made a sound like a piece of metal falling into the blades of a turbine. His head stayed absolutely still, stayed on us. I watched the door on the far side of the room for signs of movement. I saw our own eyes, multiplied a thousand times, in the walls of the Mirror Lounge. I saw the boy with the towels pass the door to the lounge. More than thirty times in the past two minutes. This place had become completely unhinged. Stamper placed our drinks on the bar, and beside them placed a platter of fresh fortune biscuits.

  ‘Listen, I need you, Beast. This whole plan relies on them thinking she’s –’ Stamper cleared his throat loudly. I turned, expecting to see G returning, but it was just Roxy passing through with a tray of glasses, watching us through slitted eyes. Our bartender narrowed his as she passed. Once she was gone he nodded, and I continued. ‘They need to think she’s dead.’ I took the vial from my jacket and placed it on the marble bar top. ‘It’s the only way. This is how we save her life.’

  He gazed down his nose, and up over his bottom lip, at the vial. ‘What is it?’