Downstairs in the dark, Blowback and Skinner were bumbling in and out of cupboards and storerooms, including Lump’s which was wide open as he slept. They kept climbing over an assortment of things - including Lump as he continued to sleep. In the midst of this, Horn turned up and had no option in the dark but follow suit. “What?” He called. Bumping into someone, he’d manage a ferocious “What?” before the dice rolled and everybody stumbled, bumbled and collided all over again somewhere else.
Eventually Horn fell over Lump yet again, but landed on Blowback. Pinning him down, Horn took the opportunity to yell his now familiar refrain.
“WHAT?”
“Boss, I dunno I swear. She’s godda be here somewhere!”
Hans ‘Hammerhead’ Horn got an inkling of the matter in hand. “Wherejooput 'er?” He demanded.
“Next one, Boss.”
Horn surprised Blowback by getting off him and stumbling about until he fell into the empty room next door. Blowback followed. Fumbling about together, they found the padlock. Horn, now gripped with a steely determination, took the padlock, stumbled and bumbled until he found the way out and upstairs into the light. Blowback again followed. Horn put the thing down and they both stared at it. It had been cut.
“How could she do that?” Horn asked.
“Dunno Boss.”
“She couldn’t do that!”
“I know Boss.”
“You know?” Horn glared. “What d’you know! You telling me you know how she done it?”
“No Boss!”
Long pause while Horn’s mind grappled with the problem.
Finally, he had a solution. He erupted.
“You didn’t lock ’er up, did you! You let ’er out!”
“No Boss!” Countered Blowback desperately, “That lock proves we must’ve locked ’er in!”
This line of reasoning stopped the boss. In the ensuing silence, he took another look at the lock and frowned. He felt he’d missed a clue. There was something in what Blowback had said. Wasn’t there? Given time, he was sure he could work it out. But it meant what? Well, it meant Blowback was probably right. Didn’t it? Two heads thinking the same thing? Or was that something else?
“Oh, yeah... I knew that.” He said vaguely. But he was suddenly very worried about what he knew. Things were beginning to dawn on him. There was a familiarity that was scary. As if a repeat was happening that he really didn’t want to know about. He had a scary feeling it would be about money.
Burt Blowback risked a glance back. Skinner’s head was just visible on the floor at the door. He too had managed to come upstairs but was too scared yet to come in. Blowback felt an urge to help his boss.
“The question is, Boss, who did that.” He nudged his head towards the cut padlock. “That looks like heavy stuff, just, um, like, you reckon, Boss?”
But he wasn’t helping. Horn stared afresh at the lock and then slowly turned his gaze to Blowback with eyes that were becoming ringed with white and a lot of worry. He didn’t seem to be actually seeing Blowback at all. After what seemed an eternity, Horn did something neither Burt Blowback nor Hardly Skinner had ever witnessed before. Horn reversed out of the room.
Horn’s two offsiders were completely nonplussed by their boss’s action. He had disappeared into his private quarters. Backwards? And he didn’t come out. When he still didn’t come out, they tiptoed outside to where they could talk without risk of being overheard.
“Someone took her.” Said Blowback. “Maybe his friends up north?”
“They never come here, do they?” Skinner spoke with surprising conviction, considering his most recent state of insecurity.
“Might do,” said Blowback, glancing at Skinner in surprise at his answer, “after all, like, considering the big deal that was going down with the girl. They could’ve jumped the gun maybe? You know, like put their order in early?”
“One way to find out, but.” Said Hardly Skinner, and he cocked his head at Blowback and waited for him to work it out.
“What? Go up north and poke around?”
“No! What would we know? Pokin’ around wiv that sort? Be the quick way to end up in the meat market if you ask me.”
“Well. How else would you find her? Unless you got some sort of magic trick?” Blowback said dismissing the whole idea.
“Not me,” said Skinner, “but somebody else here has.”
Blowback looked at him. He didn’t like it that Skinner had these periods of superior intelligence. They never lasted, but that wasn’t the point. He thought of Skinner as the one who needed help. But now and again Skinner could make him look such a duffer. He decided to cut the little fellow down a bit.
“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Hardly,” began Burt Blowback in his best just-listen-to-me-voice, “but there’s only one...” Then he realised there was someone else. Lump. And Lump could find her.
“Oh...” Blowback stared into the distance for a long moment and then moved. “I’ll be back,” he said, and went off to find the Boss.
Hans Horn was cowering in his own bedroom, now experiencing the full terror of his predicament. The horror that started with not even knowing the size of his enormous, unspecified, financial debt with the ferocious mob up north from that humungous swindle that included such a massive beating and had made him look like a novice. All of which was to end when he had presented them with that magnificent, totally unrefusable, Miss-Universe-Looking prize that they had agreed would wipe out his entire debt and let him retire. A deal in the making! All arranged!
And then. As if that wasn’t enough! On top of it had come this extraordinary stroke of good fortune with this dimwit, dumb-as-they-come, genius at tracking, who just wandered in looking for a job!
And I threw that hound in as a bonus? My own token of good will? Free! Why? Why free? Well... It wasn’t meant to be free, was it! But when they said it would help them agree to wipe his debt AND make it easy for them to give me the golden handshake? What else could I say? ‘No’?
“That’s why,” he said out loud. “Insurance. That hound was insurance, for crying out loud! For once I even had insurance... In the bag, it was! A sure thing!” He howled louder. And what happens? The prize, the girl of all their dreams? Vanished – just before the auction! He started up.
“They took her! Must have!” He tried to grasp what that meant. It got worse. He slowly sank down. I haven’t even got my monthly payment, he realised.
“The debt,” he whined, sinking lower, “what will they do about my debt?” With a dud sale now, they get nothing - and I’ve still got the debt and they’ll demand their monthly usual payments. He started up. A ray of light.
“The hound,” he whispered, “I’ve got the hound. Yes! I can...” The light went out. “Nooo!” Down he went. They’ll say it’s just the monthly repayment. What a WASTE!! Think of it! A real live bloodhound wasted on just a one monthly payment.
“All that special expertise used just to pay off one lousy month...”
Groaning, he sunk lower still with yet more even worse thoughts and began jabbering to himself in a tiny whisper,
“That was the good news! They must have taken her. But I can’t even prove who took her! What if they haven’t got her? They’ll all be rabid for the girl and I’ve lost her! They’ll think I sold her somewhere else... They’ll think I sold out to a higher bidder! That it’s a double cross - that I double-crossed them! Imagine what they’ll do to ME! THEY’LL SKIN ME ALIVE! Then they’ll make fillets... No, don’t imagine what they’ll do to me!”
Hans ‘Hammerhead’ Horn, the scourge of the underdogs of Diddling was in his darkened bedroom, crouching on his haunches as low as he could get, facing the half open door, as he lapsed into silence. His mouth was clenched shut yet his teeth were bared in a sickly grin. The rest of his face was stricken with fear. The whites of his eyes were now stark red, and he was trembling all over, taking tiny little panting breaths.
Blowback knocked and put his head round the door.
“Boss,” he said, “I know you’re busy, but it’s just occurred to me that Lump could track the girl and we could get ’er back, don’t you fink?”
Horn closed his eyes and tried to become just a smear on the floor. Anything to help blot out an interruption to his own private, swamping misery. He’d have no further use for those two beat up dogs anymore. He’ll be dog meat and they’ll have to fend for themselves. He certainly won’t be able to afford the luxury of looking after them. What a failure! His thoughts insisted with their torment. Where did I go wrong? Big mistake getting involved with that bloodhound. It went wrong because of him - all because of him! If I’d have kicked him out, like never let ‘im in, I’d still have the girl. If I hadn’t shown him off up north, I’d still have the girl. If I hadn’t tried to be so clever and start that stupid side business, I’d still have the girl. If that bloodhound hadn’t tracked Blowback to here, I’D STILL HAVE THE GIRL!...
Utterly dejected, Horn’s mental misery dribbled away. I mean who would have thought he could do that after so many days! That was insane! I mean, at that rate he could even track – he could... track.
Horn stopped breathing. He stared at the mirage of this new thought. His front rose slowly by itself as the thought solidified. He still stared as if into the distance. The clammy fog of horror over his impending fate from the hoard of monsters up north lifted just a bit. He had a picture of Lump chasing after the girl as she ran away.
His back legs got up. He blinked, eyes sore. “Blowback!” A hoarse whisper.
“Yes, Boss?” Blowback’s head shot round the door. He’d obviously been waiting as before, listening, pressed up against the door.
“I think we might...Would you ask...” With this new reality, Horn seemed to have difficulty finding his way back to his own normality. He was quite shaky. He cleared his throat and tried again.
“Get Lump. We gotta get ’er back. Fast. We gotta cash in tomorrow. MOVE!” That felt better. Maybe there was time yet to rescue this disaster and see what that Lump was really worth!
Horn was back in more familiar territory within himself.
In the early afternoon, Horn, complete with Lump and his two offsiders Blowback and Skinner appeared on the horizon. They made their way slowly closer and disappeared into Plenty, as Horn called his home in the Clumps. In the Police observation post, the two detectives started taking a proper interest in things once again. The greyhound messenger slept on. As likely to trigger a demarcation dispute as anything else, greyhound runners were not paid to look through windows.
When nothing immediate seemed to happen, the two detectives themselves were soon dozing off again.
Inside Plenty, Horn totally lost it. But like all good things, that condition started slowly and took time to reach full bloom. He was tired and cranky. Nothing serious. Nothing that a good siesta wouldn’t cure. But he had to get ready for the big auction tomorrow. And he’d have to feed both of his new guests, he supposed, and get them all tarted up and looking good for when he led them out into the sale yard. But not now. He’d had enough. Later. Yes. He’d give the word later for the meal. First, he sent the two others off to lock up Lump again and to check and report on Diana. Then he settled on his couch ready for a sleep.
After quite a while, he woke up to the fact that they had not reported back to him. Not only that, they were remarkably quiet. Calling them simply produced a lot of whispering. Calling them again turned the quiet whispering to surprisingly energetic hushing and shushing noises. This was doubly annoying. He’d never get anything done at that rate, let alone get his sleep. Now he was cranky and got off his couch and went to investigate.
Down the hall were Skinner and Blowback. Skinner had a look that seemed identical to terror. His back legs were trembling so much that they were beating a light tattoo on the ground. This reminded Horn of someone desperate for a pee. From the drumming on the floor and the look of terror, Horn deduced the shower was imminent.
What is the matter with him? was Horn’s thunderous thought, He needs someone to tell him when to take a toilet break? Horn was losing his patience fast. But he had the presence of mind to keep out of Skinner’s line of fire.
Meanwhile, Burt Blowback had been towering over Skinner. When Horn arrived, he shrank to a submissive pose beside his mate and looked at his own feet as if seeing them for the first time in his life.
“What?” Fumed ‘Hammerhead’ Horn.
Making a valiant attempt, Skinner started quite well. “She...” but then he ran out of words. “Heee!” was all he managed. This sounded like a comment from someone about to enter the wacky world of hysteria.
For clarification Horn turned to Blowback, who suddenly had a brainwave. “Juzgoddafinederboss!” He blurted, bashing his mate Skinner into a spin as he bolted down the corridor. Skinner, knocked free from under Horn’s withering stare, desperately scrabbled for traction as he took off in pursuit. Horn himself made an executive decision. He’d find out for himself what the hell was happening.
Downstairs in the dark, Blowback and Skinner were bumbling in and out of cupboards and storerooms, including Lump’s which was wide open as he slept. They kept climbing over an assortment of things - including Lump as he continued to sleep. In the midst of this, Horn turned up and had no option in the dark but follow suit. “What?” He called. Bumping into someone, he’d manage a ferocious “What?” before the dice rolled and everybody stumbled, bumbled and collided all over again somewhere else.
Eventually Horn fell over Lump yet again, but landed on Blowback. Pinning him down, Horn took the opportunity to yell his now familiar refrain.
“WHAT?”
“Boss, I dunno I swear. She’s godda be here somewhere!”
Hans ‘Hammerhead’ Horn got an inkling of the matter in hand. “Wherejooput 'er?” He demanded.
“Next one, Boss.”
Horn surprised Blowback by getting off him and stumbling about until he fell into the empty room next door. Blowback followed. Fumbling about together, they found the padlock. Horn, now gripped with a steely determination, took the padlock, stumbled and bumbled until he found the way out and upstairs into the light. Blowback again followed. Horn put the thing down and they both stared at it. It had been cut.
“How could she do that?” Horn asked.
“Dunno Boss.”
“She couldn’t do that!”
“I know Boss.”
“You know?” Horn glared. “What d’you know! You telling me you know how she done it?”
“No Boss!”
Long pause while Horn’s mind grappled with the problem.
Finally, he had a solution. He erupted.
“You didn’t lock ’er up, did you! You let ’er out!”
“No Boss!” Countered Blowback desperately, “That lock proves we must’ve locked ’er in!”
This line of reasoning stopped the boss. In the ensuing silence, he took another look at the lock and frowned. He felt he’d missed a clue. There was something in what Blowback had said. Wasn’t there? Given time, he was sure he could work it out. But it meant what? Well, it meant Blowback was probably right. Didn’t it? Two heads thinking the same thing? Or was that something else?
“Oh, yeah... I knew that.” He said vaguely. But he was suddenly very worried about what he knew. Things were beginning to dawn on him. There was a familiarity that was scary. As if a repeat was happening that he really didn’t want to know about. He had a scary feeling it would be about money.
Burt Blowback risked a glance back. Skinner’s head was just visible on the floor at the door. He too had managed to come upstairs but was too scared yet to come in. Blowback felt an urge to help his boss.
“The question is, Boss, who did that.” He nudged his head towards the cut padlock. “That looks like heavy stuff, just, um, like, you reckon, Boss?”
But he wasn’t helping. Horn stared afresh at the lock and then slowly turned his gaze to Blowback with eyes that were becoming ringed with white
and a lot of worry. He didn’t seem to be actually seeing Blowback at all. After what seemed an eternity, Horn did something neither Burt Blowback nor Hardly Skinner had ever witnessed before. Horn reversed out of the room.
Horn’s two offsiders were completely nonplussed by their boss’s action. He had disappeared into his private quarters. Backwards? And he didn’t come out. When he still didn’t come out, they tiptoed outside to where they could talk without risk of being overheard.
“Someone took her.” Said Blowback. “Maybe his friends up north?”
“They never come here, do they?” Skinner spoke with surprising conviction, considering his most recent state of insecurity.
“Might do,” said Blowback, glancing at Skinner in surprise at his answer, “after all, like, considering the big deal that was going down with the girl. They could’ve jumped the gun maybe? You know, like put their order in early?”
“One way to find out, but.” Said Hardly Skinner, and he cocked his head at Blowback and waited for him to work it out.
“What? Go up north and poke around?”
“No! What would we know? Pokin’ around wiv that sort? Be the quick way to end up in the meat market if you ask me.”
“Well. How else would you find her? Unless you got some sort of magic trick?” Blowback said dismissing the whole idea.
“Not me,” said Skinner, “but somebody else here has.”
Blowback looked at him. He didn’t like it that Skinner had these periods of superior intelligence. They never lasted, but that wasn’t the point. He thought of Skinner as the one who needed help. But now and again Skinner could make him look such a duffer. He decided to cut the little fellow down a bit.
“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Hardly,” began Burt Blowback in his best just-listen-to-me-voice, “but there’s only one...” Then he realised there was someone else. Lump. And Lump could find her.
A Tour de Fate Page 24