Something MYTH Inc m-12

by Robert Asprin

  Pookie catches my eye with a look that sez that her thoughts are rannin' along similar lines.

  "Urn, let's go over this all once more," I sez, stallin' for time while I think. "Sure, I got my opinions, but I don't like to think of myself as bein' closed-minded. Maybe there's something I've been overlookin'."

  Spyder starts to roll her eyes, then realizes that I might be softening my position and tries to look attentive.

  "There are two different groups that we know of," I sez.

  "That's right," Pookie sez, pickin' up my cue. "The peek-a-boo crew in the Royal Game Preserve, and the clown in the costume."

  I nod and start drumming my fingers thoughtfully.

  "Now, of the two, the forest guys are the bigger potential threat. The question is, is there any way we can do a little more snoopin' around about them without actually goin' into the woods after them?"

  "Didn't the sergeant say something about a subdivision close to the forest?" Pookie sez.

  "Yeah. The Sherwood Arms," I sez. "So?"

  "Well, what we seem to be confronted with is minor-league guerilla warfare," Pookie sez. "According to most military experts, guerrillas can't operate without popular, local support. Maybe we can pick up some information in that subdivision."

  "I thought that they'd be living off the land," Spyder sez. "I mean, there must be plenty of game in the Game Preserve."

  "Uh-huh," I sez. "Ever tried to actually eat wild game? It's not bad for an occasional variation from one's diet, but on a steady basis it's pretty bad, unless you have someone cookin' who really knows what they're doing."

  "Besides," Pookie sez, "they've been swiping money from the tax collectors. You don't need gold if you're living off the land. It's a good bet that they're spending it somewhere. That subdivision seems like a logical choice."

  "Sounds like a plan," I sez. "Shakin' down some locals for information is a lot more up my alley than tryin' to play Sneaky Pete through a bunch of bushes and swamps. What do you think, Spyder?"

  "Whatever works for you guys," she sez, tryin' to sound casual.

  Pookie gives me a big wink so's Spyder can't see. I decide that not hurryin' back to the palace isn't such a bad idea after all.

  EIGHT

  "You know, it's been so long since I've been away from Perv, I had forgotten what a hoot it can be visiting other dimensions," sez Pookie.

  As I mentioned before, I had gotten into the habit of tuning out the ladies' conversations as we were travelin', as they tended to make my head hurt, but that comment caught my attention.

  "What brings that to mind, Pookie?" I sez.

  "Oh, just things you don't normally come across, like that. .. what did you call it again, Spyder?"

  "A porta-pottie," sez Spyder?

  "See? That's what I mean."

  "What's so strange about that?" sez Spyder.

  "Look around you, dear," sez Pookie. "We're surrounded by a wealth of bushes and trees. Why invent something like a porta-pottie?"

  "You can't charge people for usin' a bush or a tree," 1 sez.

  Pookie is silent for several minutes before she responds.

  "You and your crew have been spending a lot of time at the Bazaar at Deva lately, haven't you, Guido?" she sez finally.

  "That's right," I sez. "That's where our headquarters are. So?"

  "Nothing," Pookie sez, innocent-like. "It just explains a couple things is all."

  During our travels, I have learned that it's easier to get a straight answer out of a lawyer what knows you are both monied and guilty than it is to get Pookie to elaborate once she starts bein' evasive. As such I simply change the subject.

  "Realizin' we are rapidly approachin' our destination," I sez, gesturing to the small clutter of buildings up ahead, "it might be a good idea if we got it straight as to what our modus operandi is goin' to be once we get there."

  "Could you give me a quick briefing on the general layout here, Guido?" Pookie sez, eyein' the buildings. "What's the deal with these 'subdivisions', anyway?"

  "It's a fairly recent development," I sez. "It used to be that people would move away from the small farmin' communities for the excitement and culture, not to mention the economic opportunities, of the bigger cities. The problem was, as more and more people came to the cities, it got crowded and tended to draw what is politely referred to as 'the rougher element' who make their livin's by separatin' said citizens from the gains from said economic opportunities.

  "The solution, strange as it seems, is that those citizens who were successful enough to afford it retreated to areas midway between the cities and the farms. Developers bought up abandoned or strugglin' farms, slapped up clusters of houses, and sold them to people who work in the city, but don't want to live there. For the most part, the people we'll be talkin' to spend their days in the city workin', then travel here to the subdivisions evenings to sleep and spend time with their families.

  "The older, better developed subdivisions, like the Sherwood Arms up ahead, have gotten large enough that they have their own cluster of small businesses providin' food, services, and sometimes limited entertainment, so their residents don't have to lug everything back from the city."

  "So the folks in this subdivision think of themselves as ruthless, sophisticated city folk, but aren't actually tough enough to handle the mean streets, eh?" Pookie sez.

  "That about sums it up," I sez.

  "It that case," Pookie sez, "would you mind letting me take the lead on our first interrogation?"

  "No problem," I sez. "You got a plan?"

  "Nothing specific," she sez. "I just thought it might give me a chance to demonstrate to Spyder here the effectiveness of applied femininity. Do you understand what I'm saying, dear?"

  "You're going to hit someone," Spyder sez, dutifully.

  I barely manage to suppress a rude snicker. It is clear that civilizin' Spyder is not a task easily accomplished. Even for someone as polished and tenacious as Pookie.

  "No, dear," Pookie sez, patiently. "Think carefully. Remember what we've been talking about in regards to subtlety?"

  Spyder frowns with the unaccustomed effort of thinking. Then her expression brightens.

  "You're going to threaten to hit someone," she sez, brightly.

  This time my effort to suppress my reaction is less successful, and earns me a dirty look from Pookie.

  "No, dear. That's Guido's department," she sez. "We're ladies. Tell you what. Just watch what I do and we'll talk about it later."

  · · ·

  Unfortunately, my amusement with the situational did not last long. In fact, it dropped radically as soon as Pookie began her preparations.

  Mostly, this consisted of using disguise spells to alter the appearances of both Spyder and myself. She said this was to make us look less intimidatin' so people would be more inclined to let 'em think she was usin' the opportunity to exact a little revenge on us, as she maintained the same appearance she had when we was dealin' with the soldier types, and, if you'll recall, that was not exactly demure and unassumin'.

  She let Spyder keep her new 'hot babe' look, but changed her outfit so it was no longer even a modified army uniform. Even so, the new civilian outfit was considerably less peek-a-boo provocative than it had been.

  The real axe job she saved for me.

  Now, I cannot argue with her basic logic, as there is no doubt that my normal appearance is both noticeable and awe-inspirin' and played no small part in my career choice. I mean, Mob enforcers tend to come in one of two body types: either the big and wide man-mountain model like Nunzio and myself; or the skinny, fast, and nasty knife-man model like Snake. Either style has the marked advantage of makin' regular folks want to co-operate with you without contestin' whether or not you are actually capable of uppin' the ante if they decide to be difficult. It was therefore understandable that she felt it necessary to lessen the impact of the visual impression I normally make on the uninitiated.

  I do, however, think she went
a bit overboard on said lessenin'.

  First, she knocked about a third off me, both in height and in girth. Then she took my normally spiffy outfit and changed it to a drab overall kind of rig than hung on my "new body" like a coat draped over a small chair. The buck teeth were a totally unnecessary touch, as I did not plan on smilin' much while lookin' like this.

  "That should just about do it," Pookie sez with a grin, steppin' back to survey me like an artist viewin' a still-damp canvas. "Just remember to keep your weapons out of sight unless we're actually attacked."

  This last I figure was a bit of self-protection on her part, because the way I was feelin' after havin' viewed my new appearance, there was no doubt in my mind as to who my prime target would be if I should happen to decide to abandon my preferred peace-lovin' manner.

  "Everybody ready?" she sez, finally. "Spyder? Guido?"

  "It's your show," I sez with a shrug.

  "All right. Just stay close and follow my lead."

  We tags along as she ambles into the scattered groupin' of small businesses that seems to mark the hub of the subdivision. There is only a handful of people wanderin' about, and most of them seem to be of the housewife variety. In no time flat, however, she has singled out her first target. He is a lanky string-bean son with fiery red hair. More notably to the practiced eye. his clothes are several notches more expensive than anyone else's who is immediately visible.

  "Excuse me? Sir?" Pookie sez, hailin' him.

  He glances around a couple times to be sure she is addressin' him, then comes over to where we are standin'.

  "Yes, Miss? Can I be of assistance?" he sez.

  Definitely an educated type.

  "I certainly hope so," Pookie sez, givin' him her best smile. "Do you live around here?"

  "As a matter of fact, I do," he sez, givin' the smile right back to her.

  'Then maybe you can help us. You see, my associates and I have just arrived in your charming community and don't really know our way around. The thing is, we're supposed to be conducting a sort of a survey, and we don't have the foggiest of where to start."

  "A survey? How fascinating."

  As this exchange is goin' on the two of them are givin' each other the once over. Also the twice and three-times-over if you is actually countin'. Neither seems particularly disappointed with what they are seein'.

  "Anyway, I was just saying to my assistants . .. Forgive me. My name is Pookie. And you are . .. ?"

  "Will."

  "Pleased to meet you, Will. You see, I was thinking that if we had the help of someone who really knew the area, we could get our job done in no time at all. That would free us up to explore whatever entertainment the local nightlife has to offer. Of course, you'd be welcome to join me ... us... if you agree to help, that is."

  She is layin' it on pretty thick, but the yokel is eatin' it up with a spoon and droolin' for more.

  "It just so happens that I have the afternoon free ... and the evening," he sez, his smile gettin' even wider. "What kind of a survey are you conducting?"

  "We're just trying to find out what the local opinion is of the freedom fighters operating out of the Royal Game Preserve," Pookie sez.

  All of a sudden. Will is not smilin'.

  "Freedom fighters?" he sez.

  "You know," Pookie sez with a wink, "the ones who have been running the tax vultures around in circles lately?"

  The guy is now literally backin' away from her.

  "I've never even heard of them," he sez. "No, ma'am. No knowledge at all. In fact, I don't think I'll be able to help you after all. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

  "Maybe you can join us later?" Pookie sez, still tryin'.

  "It occurs to me that probably wouldn't be such a good idea," he sez. "People might get the wrong impression if we were seen together. You see, I'm married."

  "I don't mind," Pookie sez. "Besides, marriage isn't anything a good lawyer can't fix."

  "Lady, I am a lawyer," he sez. "And I've never fixed ... I ever heard ... Goodbye."

  With that he turns on his heel and leaves, almost run-nin' in his haste to put distance between him and us as we watch his retreat in bewildered silence.

  "Well, that was instructive," Spyder sez.

  "Ease up, Spyder," I sez before Pookie can go after her. "Tell me, Pookie, is it just me or was there something strange with the way that scene played?"

  "Definitely something wrong there," Pookie sez, frownin'. "I could have sworn I had him hooked solid. Oh well, let me give it another try."

  The next guy she runs her routine on is a big, athletic-lookin' individual named John we find loading one of those portapotties onto a wagon. Unfortunately, it's almost identical to what happened with Will, only without the polished language. John is all enthusiastic until she mentions the guys in the forest, then he practically tramples us makin' his getaway. As it turns out, John is also a married man.

  "Either married men are a lot different in this dimension, or this is a very strange community," Pookie sez, her frustration startin' to show.

  "I don't understand it either," I sez. "Tell you what, Pookie. Since they aren't respondin' to Beauty, what say we give the Beast a try?"

  "Excuse me?" she sez, blinkin'.

  I give her my best smile.

  "Change me back to my normal appearance and let me give it a shot."

  "Why not?" she sez. "I've been batting zero so far. In fact, while I'm at it, I'll give Spyder and myself a redo as well. That way we can always try the 'survey team' bit a try again later."

  A few magical passes later, and I am my old self again. Mind you, a disguise spell doesn't actually change you physically, just your appearance. Still, it's good to know people are seein' the real me once again.

  "Okay, Guido," Pookie sez, "it's your turn now. Pick your target."

  "That place across the way looks as good as any," I sez, pointin'.

  "Robb's Hardware and Sporting Goods?" Pookie sez, readin' the sign. "Okay. Anything we should do to back your play?"

  "Nothin' special," I sez. "Just wander around the place slow and handle stuff. That and smile a lot."

  With that, I lead the way across the street and through the doors into the store.

  The guy behind the counter homes in on us as soon as we make our entrance, and not just because we're the only other ones in the place. As I noted earlier, my normal appearance tends to draw attention.

  "Can ... can I help you?" he sez, hesitantly.

  Pookie and Spyder ignore him and start driftin' down the aisles, pickin' up stuff and lookin' at it careful before puttin' it down. I lean on the counter and do the talkin', lookin' around the place and not at the guy.

  "I'd like to speak with the owner, if he has the time," I sez.

  "I'm ... That would be me," the guy sez. "I'm Robb."

  "This is your establishment?" I sez, crankin' my head around to look at him direct for the first time.

  "Well... Yes."

  I go back to lookin' around, payin' particular attention to the ceiling.

  "Nice little place you got here," I sez, thoughtful-like.

  "Good location. Solid inventory. Yes sir. A really nice place. Shame if anything happened to it."

  "Happened? Like what?" Robb sez, lickin' his lips.

  "Ya never can tell," I sez. "A fire. Broken windows. Trouble with a small business is that it's a marginal operation. The littlest accident and it could go under, not to mention a lot of little accidents."

  The guy is lookin' nervous now, and keeps glancin' at Spyder and Pookie. They're still handling things... real carefully ... and smilin'.

  "Urn ... Is there anything I can help you with?" he sez. "Anything specific you're looking for?"

  "As a matter of fact," I sez, "what I'm lookin' for is some information. There's a rumor goin' around that I'm tryin' to run down."

  "Well, there's a bar just down the street," Robb sez eagerly. "The bartender there knows everything about what's going on around here."
<
br />   "You don't say? Right down the street, huh?" I brings my eyes back around to stare at him again. "The trouble with that is that I'm not down the street. I'm right here. And the one I'm talkin' to is you. You got a problem with that?"

  "N ... No. Of course not," he sez. "What is it that you wanted to know?"

  "What it is, you see, is that I represent a... an association of businessmen," I sez. "They have heard that there is a group of individuals operatin' in this vicinity, specifically interfacin' with the kingdom's tax collectors when they is makin' their rounds. My employers are most anxious to speak with those individuals to ascertain if there is some way that they might work together to their mutual benefit. What I need is a means of contactin' those individuals to arrange such a meetin'."

  "I... I really don't know what you're talking about," the guy sez.

  "Do you want me to say it again?" I sez, raisin' my voice slightly. "Did I stutter?"

  "No. I meant that I haven't heard anything about the group you're talking about," he sez. "Either group, actually. I just run my shop here and go home to the wife. Nobody ever tells me about anything."

  "Well, think about it," I sez, givin' him a toothy smile. "Talk it over with the wife and see if you can't remember something. I'll probably be back to talk with you again. The thing is, if I find out that you know something and didn't share it with me, you might not see me comin' at all. Know what I mean?"

  "I... I'll think about it," he sez. "But I really don't know anything."

  I stare at him for a couple beats without sayin' anything, then turn and leave, gatherin' up Spyder and Pookie with my eyes as I go.