Red Iron Nights gf-6

by Glen Cook

  I started toward the door again.

  Garrett.

  The story of my life. I can't go anywhere or do anything without everybody in range nibbling at my time.

  I stalked into the Dead Man's room. "Yes?"

  Tell Captain Block that, on consideration, I feel last night's abduction to have been that only. The Candy woman will not be murdered until tonight, at the necessary hour. If the captain has, as seems likely with him, given up searching and is waiting for a body to surface, then he is —

  "I'm on my way."

  I hit the street. I made the tail within a block. I took him for one of the outfit's boys, not chosen for his skill at remaining unobtrusive. Crask and Sadler wanted me to know they were watching. The really good tails would stay away till they thought I'd had time to do some serious searching.

  I'd fool them. I wouldn't look at all.

  Block wasn't hard to find.

  I went to his headquarters hoping to get word where to look and, behold! There he was, right there in the shop. "What the hell you doing hanging out here?" I demanded.

  "We didn't get anywhere last night. I had five hundred men on the street. They found squat. I called it off after midnight. Didn't seem there was much chance we'd do any good then. All the killings took place before midnight, near as we know."

  "You're waiting for somebody to find the body for you. The Dead Man said you would be."

  Block shrugged. "I'm open to suggestions. Unless you think you need another thousand marks just to open your mouth."

  "On the house this time. The Dead Man said tell you the girl is alive. They won't do her till tonight. The killer never breaks his schedule. He just grabbed her last night because he knew we'd be watching later."

  "Still alive?" Block grabbed his chin with his left hand and started kneading while he thought about that. "Still alive." More silence, more thought. "I've had all the men Winchell knew trying to guess where he'd go to hide, who he'd get to help him."

  "Probably wouldn't need anyone but Ripley."

  "Maybe not. Laudermill!"

  A staff sort of sergeant materialized. A classic of the type, his butt was twice the width of his shoulders. "Sir?"

  "Anything yet on Winchell or Ripley?"

  "Winchell hasn't contacted any family or friends. They're still checking on Ripley, but he's a negative so far too."

  I had a thought, which has been known to happen. "Maybe we could try looking on the inside." When this happens, it always startles people. This one surprised even me. "What was Winchell working on?"

  "Huh?"

  "Case-wise. Look, Block, I've been close enough to know you've been going a little farther than you're telling anybody except maybe the Prince. Looking to make a splash when they cut you loose, I figure. Whatever. I don't care. But some of your guys have been making some serious efforts to do real police work lately. Was Winchell? What was he doing? Maybe—"

  "I got you." Block held a debate with himself, showing expressions that suggested he was reluctant to let a cat get out of a bag. Finally, "Laudermill. Get me Relway and Spike. In here. Soon as you can."

  Laudermill departed with astonishing quickness for one of his bulk. He was a twenty-year man for sure, growing anxious about his pension.

  Block said, "These guys Relway and Spike were teamed with Winchell and Ripley on a decoy thing I wanted to test. They're irregulars. They're off shift now, so it might take a while to find them. I never thought to check the auxiliary operatives."

  The irregular Watchmen appeared sooner than Block expected, and way too soon for me where peace of mind was concerned. Neither was human. Relway was some unlikely breed that was half dwarf and fractions of several other things. He was ugly. Also, to my surprise, he seemed to be decent and pleasant, less scarred by his ancestry and appearance than I'd have guessed. He was committed to the mission of the new Watch, an apparent fanatic.

  Likewise Spike, who was a ratman. I don't like ratmen. My dislike verges on being a prejudice. I couldn't believe this ratman was for real. An honest ratman is a contradiction in terms, an oxymoron.

  Block told me, "Relway and Spike are volunteer auxiliaries till I get my budget approved. I already have a verbal commitment for funds sufficient to add four hundred undercover operatives. These two will direct one of the companies, down where they'll be taking you."

  Scary stuff, secret police. Great crimestoppers to begin, maybe, but how long before Block's ambitious Prince discovered that they could be employed to root out persons of doubtful political rectitude?

  Sufficient unto the day... "So let's find out about our boys."

  Block questioned Relway and Spike. They did know of a place where Winchell and Ripley might be hidden. It was a hole they'd scouted while scoping out their operation. They hadn't used it, but that wouldn't keep Winchell away now.

  Block snapped, "Garrett, you go with these two. Cover the place. Scout it out. I'll be right behind you with reinforcements." Away he flew.

  Relway and Spike eyed me expectantly, probably figuring me for a Watch officer. They were excited. They were going to be part of something big and real before they were even officially policemen.

  I jerked my head toward the door. "Let's do it!"

  47

  Elvis Winchell and his sidekick had guts. Relway and Spike told me about the scam they'd started before chance brought the corporal and Price Ripley up against something too big to handle.

  Their target area was the waterfront around Ogre Town. Real badlands. Winchell would wander the worst parts pretending to be drunk. Ripley, Relway, and the ratman would blend into the derelict scenery, then would jump whoever jumped Winchell.

  I admired Winchell's balls but had reservations about his methods. He'd made only two actual arrests, of two fairly inoffensive young muggers. But he'd sent a bunch of thugs home kneecapped, set to spend the rest of their lives on the victim side of the line. He felt that word would spread and the bad boys would take their business elsewhere.

  "Maybe," I said. "But I think they'd have just killed you."

  "Four of us?" Spike demanded. I was startled, not at all used to being addressed as an equal by a ratman. A second later I was amused by this discovery of my own flaw. Spike continued, "Muggers don't have a guild and they don't work in crowds. I lived in this area for years. The muggers never work in groups of more than four. Two is most common. We handled foursomes easily. Captain Block gave us the tools."

  "Maybe I'd better not pursue this. I don't think I want to know."

  "There's a New Order coming, Garrett," Relway said. "Lot of people have had all they can take. The pendulum is swinging. You're going to find people saying that if the Crown won't solve social problems, they'll take care of them themselves." The man went on, at great length, till I was ready to send him off to debate those women I'd sicced on the Dead Man that time. Relway, though he had no human blood, was determined to be a factor in TunFaire society.

  I suggested, "Maybe you're overstepping, friend. Non-humans are here only by treaty. They don't want to be subject to Karentine law, they better not claim its protection either."

  "I hear you, Garrett. And you're right. There should be one law for everyone. You're born in this city and live in this city, you should help make this city a decent place to live. I done my part. I did my five in the Cantard and took my Karentine citizenship."

  I got the message. Don't look down because he was a breed. He'd paid his dues same as me.

  I edged away from Relway. He was a committed activist. Every third sentence included "the New Order," clearly capitalized.

  Politicals make me nervous.

  Translation: they scare the shit out of me. They're weird and they believe the weird shit they say without looking at the implications of their becoming successful. Luckily, politicals are few in TunFaire, and those few are despised, outcasts.

  They ought to learn to be less threatening, like Barking Dog Amato.

  Now I saw how Relway had sublimated th
e anger and hatred that should result from being an unusual breed and notably ugly besides. He would keep on smiling but would restructure the world so he'd become one of its shining lights.

  Fine. Go for it, buddy. Just include me out of the revolution and its aftermath. I'm happy with my life the way it is.

  Relway and Spike led me to a tenement that had burned recently but incompletely. Though abandoned, its cellars remained habitable—defining habitable by liberal standards.

  I asked, "How do we find out if anybody's in there?"

  It was broad daylight. I was strutting around with two guys Winchell knew, two guys with no ability to cut any slack. They had black-and-white minds. An hour earlier Winchell and Ripley were their best buddies. Now those two were just names on the sleazeball list, scum in need of expungement.

  Relway gave the ruins the fish-eye. "Spike, you're better at getting around quietly. Check it out."

  Ratmen are sneaky bastards. Spike went off like a ghost, not toward the place that interested us. Relway and I made ourselves invisible while we waited. Relway was a chatterbox with a nose a foot long. He wanted to know all about who I was and why I was interested in the case.

  "None of your business," I told him.

  In a huff, Relway said, "You could at least show some manners. You could be polite. I'll be important in the New Order."

  "I'm not polite to Block. I wouldn't be polite to his boss. I'm not going to waste polite on you and the rat. I didn't particularly want to be here. Fate keeps messing me around."

  "I hear what you're saying. Same shit happens to me. Maybe more, looking the way I do."

  "Nothing wrong with the way you look," I lied. "There's the rat. What's he signaling?"

  "I think he means they're in there. He wants to know what we do now."

  "What we do now is wait for Block. I got a feeling this Winchell is nasty. I'd just hate it if he got away over my dead body."

  "I know where you're coming from, Garrett." Relway waved and poked the air. So did Spike. "I'm not big on becoming a dead hero myself. I do want to see the New Order arrive. You wouldn't be the Garrett that's the investigator, would you?"

  "Probably. Why? I didn't mess up any of your family or pals, did I?"

  "No. Nope. What you're looking at is something you ain't going to believe exists. A real one in a trillion. A pervert. An honest breed who comes from a family that's never had even one member taken in for questioning." His tone was challenging, and deservedly so, because my attitude reflected the general prejudice. What was embarrassing was that it wasn't a prejudice I really felt.

  "We're off on the wrong foot here and it's mostly my fault, Relway. It isn't personal. I've been in a foul mood since I got up. I usually save my venom for the ratmen."

  "You're weird, Garrett. Here comes the man." He meant Block. Evidently Block was held in high esteem in some quarters.

  48

  Block still held me in high enough esteem that he sought approval before he moved. "The place is surrounded. Gonna take some doing for anybody to get out."

  "Dead Man says take them alive if you can. The curse probably can't transfer while they're still alive."

  "They?"

  "Part must be touching Ripley somehow. Or Winchell, whichever isn't the primary carrier."

  "Yeah. Got you. I guess there's no reason to stall anymore. Might as well do it."

  A thought had wormed through my head several times lately. I'd pushed it out over and over. It came back again. I was going to be sorry, but, "I maybe ought to go with the first rush. The girl will recognize me. If I let her know it's a rescue, we can maybe keep the panic level down, maybe save ourselves some people getting hurt."

  "That's up to you. You want to go, go. I'm giving Relway first shot. Tell him what you're doing, then don't give him no grief while he's doing his job. He's better than any of my regulars."

  "Right." I joined Relway. "I'm going in with you. The girl knows me."

  "You armed?"

  "Not for blood." I showed him my headknocker.

  He shrugged. "Don't get in the way of the real cops."

  What a straight line. It was all I could do to avoid temptation.

  Relway's storm group were armed up to take a town from a Venageti Guards division. I hoped they'd had some experience along those lines. They hadn't had any training since.

  "You figure to face that much trouble?"

  "No," Relway said. "But this bunch will be ready for whatever trouble they do find."

  "Good thinking. No way you can get chewed out for not being ready when you go in ready for everything."

  Relway smiled. "There you go."

  I looked across the street. Spike was restless. "Things always get more real at moments like this."

  "You had it that way down there?"

  "Worse. Lots worse. I was a scared kid then."

  "Me too. You ready?"

  "I won't get any readier."

  "Follow me." He took off. Garrett the white knight pranced the cobblestones a step behind, followed by a half-dozen uniformed champions of justice who had no idea how to accomplish what they'd been ordered to do. They hadn't joined the Watch to capture madmen or protect TunFaire from villains.

  The ratman had a tiny basement window scouted. As we arrived, he dived through, wriggling, his hideous naked tail lashing behind him. I think that's what gets me about ratmen. The tails. They're really disgusting.

  "After you," Relway said as that tail slithered inside.

  "What?" That window was too small. It wasn't meant to pass a body. It was as big as it was only because some small-timers had worked on it so they could get inside and clean the place out. Of what, I can't imagine.

  "You said you're the hero she knows."

  "Shit." And I did volunteer for this.

  I flopped on my belly and shoved my feet through the window. The ratman pulled. Relway shoved. I popped through, hit the floor, stumbled over a loose brick, muttered, "Where are they?"

  "Back where you see the light," Spike whispered. That made him real hard to understand. Ratmen have trouble enough talking without whispering. Their throats aren't made for speech. "You cover while we get more men down." This ratman had spent a lifetime dealing with humans. He hadn't hidden himself away from the mainstream, content to live in society's cracks, taking only what no one else wanted. My respect for him rose.

  I readied my headknocker, advanced toward the light, which leaked around a poorly closed door. I wondered why Winchell and Ripley hadn't either attacked us or made a run for it. Seemed to me we were making an armageddon sort of racket.

  All of a sudden I had three guys behind me and Relway telling them, "We've got the other way out covered. Let's do it. Garrett?"

  I took a deep breath and hit the door. I hurled myself at it, expected to demolish my shoulder.

  The door collapsed. I didn't know my own strength. I was a regular Saucerhead Tharpe. I tore it right off its hinges.

  I collapsed after two staggering steps over a footing of broken bricks.

  Elvis Winchell and Price Ripley were hard at work snoring on beds of sacks and rags. Evidently carrying a curse was exhausting work. The only open eyes around belonged to Candy. She responded to my entrance but not in any wild display of joy.

  Hell. She didn't know why we were there. For all she knew, we were pals with Winchell and his sidekick. I stumbled to my feet. "We're the rescue crew." Winchell and Ripley had begun to respond, finally. Relway bopped Ripley over the head before the poor guy could get his eyes open. Relway wasn't having any trouble with the footing. He looked positively graceful.

  Spike had less luck putting Winchell back to sleep. Winchell evaded his blows, scooted away, his eyes trying to sparkle green. Maybe he didn't quite have the hang of it yet.

  Gods, he looked awful. Like he'd aged fifteen years in the time since he'd helped bring in the villain Downtown Byrd had given us. Ripley, too, looked bad, but not nearly as bad as Winchell.

  "Rescue crew?
You sure? You look more like a circus act."

  Spike and two Watchmen were chasing Winchell. Winchell wasn't cooperating at all. Relway and the other man were stuffing Ripley into a big sack.

  Block appeared at the other entrance to the cellar, was careful not to place himself in extreme danger. I called, "Hey, Captain. This one don't need rescuing. She's got it under control already."

  Candy said, "You're the guy who's been hanging around Hullar's." I cut the cords binding her ankles. They were nice ankles. I hadn't noticed how nice before. I'd been entranced by all the nice stuff higher up. "Garrett?"

  "That's me. Trusty knight-errant. Invariably refused and abused for trying to warn people that they're in danger."

  "Watch the hands, boy. I've heard about you."

  Ripley was headed for the street now, out of it, but Winchell was putting up a fight, even though Relway and Spike, working together, had a sack over his head and arms. Neither Relway nor Winchell was in uniform. Having been employed, both had been able to afford reasonably nice civilian clothing. Vaguely surprised, though, I noted that Winchell used a rather heavy-looking piece of rope for a belt.

  "I've heard about me too. Sometimes I don't recognize myself. What did you hear? Obviously not that I'm a prize."

  Spike, Relway, and the gang managed to get Winchell tipped over and all the way into the giant sack. Relway got busy tying it shut.

  "Prize pig. You remember a Rose Tate?"

  Relway kicked the flopping sack. "Better than a cell on wheels," he told nobody in particular.

  "Ah, sweet Rosie again," I said. "Yes. Let me tell you about Rose. This is a true story that you'll believe if you know Rose and will call a fairy tale if you don't." I had time. The boys seemed to be getting along fine without me. Just to make sure I didn't lose my audience, I became totally inept at untangling and cutting. Relway and the boys started dragging Winchell toward the door. Winchell writhed and cussed all the way. He wasn't alone in that sack. In fact, green butterflies fluttered around the basement, confused, more worried about the single candle burning than anything else. Again I wondered what the butterflies had to do with anything, if they did. Maybe they were just something like a skunk's spray.