by neetha Napew
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it, dear," Pookie sez. "It was a good show, but Guido didn't get any more information than I did."
"There's definitely something strange goin' on here," I sez, half to myself.
"I don't know. Maybe they really didn't know anything," Spyder sez.
"I don't buy it," I sez. "Even if they didn't have any specific information, they should have heard something, even if it was only rumors. That would be enough for them to try to impress Pookie, or to get me off their back when I leaned on them. No, there's some kind of coverup goin' on."
"That's the way it looks," Pookie nodded.
"You know, I've got an idea," Spyder sez. "It might be worth a try."
"What's that?" I sez.
"Well, these folks are money-motivated. Right? We could try posting a reward for information. If they won't respond to fear or lust, there's always greed."
Pookie and I looked at each other as we thought about it, then we both shook our heads.
"I don't think so, little sister," Pookie sez. "It's a nice thought, but when there's money on the table, it brings out all kind of false leads and wild goose chases. We'd go nuts trying to administer the thing, much less having to run down each and every rumor that got dropped on us."
"Besides," I sez, "if we're right and there's a coverup goin' on, anyone who talks to us is goin' to have the rest of the community down on them. Money is a great motivator, but it would take a lot of it to offset their fear of reprisals."
"Wait a minute, Guido," Pookie sez. "Maybe we're looking at this wrong. What if it isn't fear of reprisals that's keeping everyone quiet? What if it's money?"
"How's that again?"
"What if the gang is sharing their profits with the community?" she sez. "You know, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor? If the subdivision is getting a piece of the action, it's no wonder they won't talk about it to outsiders."
"I dunno," I sez. "It sounds pretty wild. I mean, I can understand the part about robbin' the rich. There's no money in robbin' the poor. But why would they be willin' to share it with anyone else? Besides, I didn't see any poor in that subdivision."
"I was speaking figuratively," Pookie sez. "But remember what I said about guerrillas needing popular support? Can you think of any better way for the gang to make themselves popular than by instituting a profit-sharing plan? Remember, they get to decide how much to share, and no one audits their books on the count. It could be a very shrewd and economical way to get and keep the people on your side against the authorities."
"I'll have to think about that one," I sez. "One thing for sure is we've hit a dead end on this line of inquiry. Maybe it's time to look up the clown with the costume."
What our team of investigators is not aware of is the repercussions of their visit to Sherwood Arms. Specifically, it created the need for an emergency meeting of the Sherwood Arms Bow Hunting Club that very evening.
"Com'on, Robb," Tuck was saying. "This whole thing was your idea. Now you have one person asking questions and you get spooked."
"I'm not spooked," Robb said. "I'm scared spitless. And if you saw the monster that was grilling me, you wouldn't call him 'one person'."
"If it's the same one that was with the vixen that was trying to get information out of me, he didn't seem like all that much," said Will.
"Definitely on the scrawny side," said John.
"Pipe down, you two," said Tuck, taking the lead for a change. "We've already decided there were two different groups asking questions, even if they both did have two women and one man."
"That's two too many if you ask me," Robb said. "Running the army around in circles in the woods is one thing, but this is getting too close to where we live. I say we should lay low for a while. Suspend operations until this sudden wave of interest dies down."
"Okay. No problem," Will said with a shrug. "Consider it done ... or undone as the case might be."
"Just like that? No arguments?" Tuck said, cocking an eyebrow.
"Sure," said Will. "Think about it, Tuck. We've already hit the tax collectors once. How many times a year do you think they make those rounds, anyway?"
NINE
Our efforts to locate the lone raider was notably different from our previous venture in that this time around we was all equally unhappy ... mostly with our appearance.
Again, it had been agreed upon that we should assume the least threatening disguises imaginable to encourage our mark to attack us, thereby negatin' the necessity of havin' to find him. To this end, Pookie had gone to work with her disguise spell.
When she was done, we was all not only wearin' army-type uniforms, we was all males. This was decided on in case word was out that there was a team of hunters out lookin' for outlaws consistin' of two females and a male. The problems began when Pookie insisted, just to be sure we drew an attack, that we should be kinda scrawny, puny-lookin' males. After havin' suffered through the embarrassment of such a disguise back at Sherwood Arms, Spyder and I took the position that if we had to look wimpy, then it was only fair that Pookie herself should also adopt a similar appearance. I feel that the duration and bitterness of the ensuin' argument before Pookie agreed only showed that, as competent a pro as she was, she was still vulnerable to a woman's vanity.
Our plan was as simple in its conception as it was borin' in its execution. Basically we was to re-trace the path of the tax collectin' team what had been ambushed by this joker, actin' like we was a different unit what got separated and was tryin' to re-group with the others. Logically, by revisitin' the same locales, this should draw the same attack as the army types had suffered, except we'd be ready for it. In actuality, this meant walkin' a long way and stoppin' in a lot of communities where army types are not really welcome, and doubly so since one tax team had already been through. The ladies was sure that the garbage, both verbal and literal, which was hurled at us as we passed through was on account of our less-than-heroic disguises. I, on the other hand, felt that it was aimed at army types in general regardless of the details of their appearance.
Of course, I kept this opinion mostly to myself. The only thing worse than arguin' with a woman when she's upset is arguin' with two women when they're upset... unless, perhaps, it's winnin' that selfsame argument.
"I still don't see why we have to keep wearing these stupid disguises when we're out of town and in the country," Spyder sez for maybe the twentieth time. "It's not like anyone can see us."
For some reason, this time her complaint draws an answer out of me . .. probably because I am already irritated myself. Maybe it's because it is the twentieth time she's made the same complaint. Then, too, maybe it is because I have been stuck pushin' the wheelbarrow that is part of our disguises as tax collectors. While said wheelbarrow speaks highly of the completeness of our disguises, the fact that I always seem to be the one pushin' it is a commentary on the lack of sexual equality within our group.
"We wear the disguises in town so that whoever is passin' the word to our target will see us as easy marks," I sez, flatlike. "The reason we wear them in the country is that when somebody does see us, specifically that same target, that we will look like the same easy marks what was spotted in town."
"Is something bothering you, Guido?" Pookie sez, cockin' her head at me. "You've been acting kind of tense and irritable lately."
"Maybe it's because, for all our disguises and round about walkin'," I sez, "I get the feelin' that we're not takin' this guy nearly seriously enough."
"Oh, c'mon, Guido," Spyder sez. "A clown running around in a costume complete with a mask and cape? Against the three of us? What's to worry about other that finding him in the first place?"
"Take it easy, little sister," Pookie sez. "Guido knows his business, and if he's worried I think we should listen. Okay, Guido... Talk to us. What are you seeing that we're missing in all this?"
"Aside from the basic premise that the most dangerous thing you can do is to underestimate
your opponent," I sez, "there are the particulars in this situation. For example. Give me a description of the guy we're after."
The two of them look at each other, each waiting for the other to speak.
"Uh-huh," I sez. "He is, and I quote, 'a guy in a black costume with a mask and a cape.' End quote. Beyond that, we don't know anything about his height, build, or age, much less how much education shows in his speech patterns. He could have been sittin' at the next table when we stopped for lunch and we'd never know it."
"I see your point," Pookie sez, thoughtfully.
"It's an old trick," I sez with a shrug. "Wear something noticeable that people will remember when you work, and chances are that's all they'll remember. Take it off, and you fade into the crowd again."
"So you're saying that this guy might be smarter than we've been giving him credit for?" Pookie sez.
"Either that, or he's got someone advisin' him that know what he's doin'," I sez. "And that brings me to another particular. The one I'm watchin' for, the one that has me really worried, is the guy standin' back and cov-erin' him with a crossbow."
"How so?" sez Pookie.
"You might have missed it, but, accordin' to Sergeant Smiley, that individual is packin' a crossbow not unlike my own."
"That's important?"
"Pookie," I sez, "have you taken a look at my crossbow?"
"Not really," she sez. "I mean, I've seen it. But it's just a crossbow."
"I keep forgettin' that you spend most of your time on Perv or Deva or some of those other hi-tech dimensions," I sez.
"Yeah. So?"
"So allow me to advance your education in the area of the low-tech weaponry you seem to eschew."
With that, I remove my mini-crossbow from my belt, remove the quarrel, release the tension on the bow, and toss it to her gently.
She catches it one handed, then turns so that she'll have more light on it as she examines it. Her casual glance turns into a close stare, and her lips purse in a silent whistle.
"This is nice ... very nice work," she sez.
"You don't know the half of it," I sez. "Try a snap shot. Don't aim, just instinct point."
She takes it in her right hand in a shooter's grip, spins, and levels it hip-high, focusin' on an imaginary target.
"Wow!" she sez in an awestruck voice. "That's balanced beautifully."
"Can I hold it?" Spyder sez.
After she gets the nod from me, Pookie passes it to her.
'That's a custom-made crossbow by Iolo," I sez. "It's the best I've seen in any dimension."
"Too bad he doesn't make one with a double bow that can give you two shots," Pookie sez, thoughtfully.
"He can do it," I sez, "but he doesn't like to. Talked me out of it when I asked."
"Really?"
"I don't know all the technicals," I sez with a shrug, "but it has something to do with a weakness in design when you go to a double bow. You don't get as accurate a delivery with either shot as you do with the single shot-model. I figure when you go to an expert, you should listen to what they have to say."
"Interesting," Pookie sez, retrievin' the weapon from Spyder and starin' at it anew.
"The point is that a bow like that costs roughly a year's wages for an average person in this dimension," I sez. "To own one, one either has to be very rich or very serious about one's weaponry. Since the guy in the opposition is currently in the highway-robbery business, I'm assumin' that he isn't rich. That makes him a serious armsman."
"Like you," Pookie sez, handing the beauty back to me.
"Uh-huh," I sez, reloadin' the weapon. "The fact is, I may even know him. The only ones I know who carry weapons from Iolo work for the Mob... or used to. Somehow I don't see this as their kind of action. Besides, Don Bruce, that's the guy who runs the Mob in these parts, has a deal goin' with the Boss to lay off the kingdom."
"Nonetheless," Pookie sez, "I see what you mean about taking these guys seriously."
"That's good," I sez, "since I've noticed some movement in that big tree up ahead. Don't look at it directly, but it's the one with the limb that juts out over the trail. I think we're finally gonna see some action."
TEN
Actually, it was a pretty feeble ambush. Particularly after the big buildup I had given it. Still, I hadn't managed to build and maintain the long career I am enjoyin' by un-derestimatin' the opposition . .. even when they deserve underestimatin'.
We are still a good ways from the tree, call it a stone's throw, when, with a snappin' of twigs and a small shower of leaves, this kid drops onto the trail ahead of us. He lands off balance and ends up on his rump, but he's game and manages to scramble back to his feet without droppin' his sword.
"Tell me again about how we were selling this guy short," Pookie murmurs to me.
I give a little shrug, as there is nothin' else to say.
I have to admit, the perpetrator does not strike an impressive figure. He's a short little runt, even with the hat, to a point where his head would maybe come halfway up my chest if I wasn't wearin' a disguise. He has the build of a gangly teenager and the grace of a three-legged mule, which he proceeds to demonstrate by gettin' his sword tangled in his cloak as he tries to brandish it. Despite the spiffy black outfit, I would figure that Spyder could take him and four more just like him without mussin' her hair.
"Good day to you, minions of Evil," he sez, tryin' to make his voice sound deeper. "I am here to relieve you of your troublesome burden. Your wheelbarrow is laden with monies taxed from the sweat of honest citizens. I will take charge of it from here."
Pookie and Spyder are lookin' at me with raised eyebrows, so I figure it's my show.
"I don't think so," I sez, foldin' my arms. "Really?" the kid sez, genuinely surprised. "And why not, may I ask?"
"Well, other than the fact that we outnumber you three to one," I sez, "there the detail that we're all outside the range of that sword you're wavin'."
"Forgive me," he sez with a smile. "I neglected to introduce my associate. 'Nardo!"
"Perhaps you should count again, soldier," sez a voice to my right. "And believe me, you're well within my range."
I had marked that particular tree as bein' the most likely spot to give cover fire from, and I was right. The big guy had eased out from behind it just enough to get a clear shot if he had to, but could still duck back quick if things got rough. He had his crossbow loaded and cocked, all right, but at the moment he had it pointed straight up so we could get a good look at what he was holdin'.
"Well," I sez. "I guess there's only one thing I can say to that. Pookie! Drop the disguises!"
As I'm sayin' that last bit, I'm duckin' behind the wheelbarrow for cover as I pluck my own crossbow from my belt and level it at the kid.
Pookie and Spyder follow my earlier instructions and hit the dirt, movin' in opposite directions from where I am, then freeze. For several long moments, we hold that tableau without anyone sayin' anything.
"Is that you, Guido?" comes a call at last.
"Got it in one," I sez. "How's it goin', 'Nardo?"
"Not as good as it was a few seconds ago," he sez. "If I had spotted that you were a part of the guard detail, I would have passed on this caper."
"It's called a disguise spell," I sez. "It comes in handy when one is settin' up a counter-ambush. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I'll remember that next time... if there is a next time," he sez.
"So what are you doin' givin' cover fire on an amateur heist like this?" I sez. "I heard you retired."
"Took a baby-sitting job to make ends meet," he sez. "The baby is the one you're holding the crossbow on. How about yourself? What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"At the moment I'm workin' an assignment as a Personal Envoy for the Great Skeeve," I sez. "It seems like you and your 'baby' there are a part of it."
'Nardo is silent for a while as he digests this.
"That's the way things are, huh?" he sez at last. "So where do we
go from here?"
"I'd say it's time for us to talk," I sez. "You and me. Let's see if we can come up with a way for everybody to walk away from this one."
"Sounds good to me," he sez. "Let's do it."
He eases out from behind his tree while I stand up from behind the wheelbarrow. Then, movin' real slow and matching our pace to each other, we each ease sideways. He ends up standin' next to the kid, and I end up next to Spyder.
In hindsight, I probably should have gone with Pookie. At the time, however, Spyder was closer. Besides, I knew that Spyder could handle a crossbow because I had helped her learn back in Basic, while I wasn't sure whether or not Pookie's high-tech travels had familiarized her with this dimension's crossbow designs.
"Okay, Spyder," I sez, keepin' my eye on 'Nardo. 'Take my crossbow and cover me. Keep it aimed at 'Nardo, but stay loose. We should be able to straighten this out without any shootin'."
"What's with all this talking, Guido?" she sez, takin' the crossbow from me. "You had the drop on them. Why not just finish it?"
"Take a tip from an old pro, Spyder," I sez. "If you have a choice between talkin' and fightin', always take the talk option. You can still fight if the talkin' doesn't work out. If you fight first, it's too late to talk."
I see that 'Nardo has handed his crossbow to the kid, so I start forward. As I do, I take care to move forward at an angle so I'm not in Spyder's line of fire and she has a clear shot at 'Nardo at all times. He does the same, movin' slow to meet me at a point where we is both in easy range of the coverin' crossbows.
It occurs to me that we each now have a crossbow pointed at us, held by kids what are not all that experienced. This is not a relaxin' thought, and I find myself wishin' that I had thought to mention to Spyder that the crossbow she is holdin' has a hair trigger on it, quite different from the army models she trained with.
"You're looking good, Guido," he sez as we come together.
"Thanks, 'Nardo. You're lookin' good yourself."
Actually, he looks kinda old to me. Even older than when I saw him before he retired. This does not seem like the moment to mention this, however.
