by Glen Cook
“In that case, Garrett just left. If you hurry you can catch him. He’s a little weasely-faced guy with a skinny black mustache... You know, all of you guys would get along with the world a lot better if you could just figure out what it means to have a sense of humor.”
“Quite possibly you have a point. The director occasionally mentions how much he values your opinion. Perhaps you can raise the matter personally once we get to the al-Khar.” He raised a hand to forestall my next question. “Colonel Block and the director both want to consult you concerning recent events. I’m just a messenger. Just one of a dozen EGS men in the field, hoping to run into you at one of your known haunts.”
Implications, implications. They knew I wasn’t at home...
There was no point fighting it. “I’ll be with you in a minute, then. Let me wrap up here.” I stepped over to Gilbey. Manvil had been smart enough to get off the three-wheel before any outsider could get a good idea of what he was doing. Right now he was just a civilian who happened to be hanging around. “Tell Max. Let me know what you guys think.” I turned. “Playmate. I want you to go see Drak Shevesh about your head. I’ve used him. He’s the best there is. And it won’t bother him that you’re human.”
I told Lucius Browling I was ready. He didn’t cheer. He didn’t say much, either. Which was just as well. I was a little preoccupied trying to spot the Goddamn Parrot and being worried about Winger.
I did tell Browling, “If your people have any real interest in what happened here you should round up a bounty hunter named Bic Gonlit. He had something to do with it somehow.”
I was getting piqued with Bic. He was as stubborn about sticking to his job as I could be.
59
Colonel Block was in a formal mood when Browling led me into the biggest chamber I’d yet seen inside the city prison. It appeared to be several cells converted into a meeting room. There was a large table of mediocre quality, some uncomfortable chairs, no windows, and not nearly enough light. You could hide werewolves and vampires in the shadowy corners. Today those only held Deal Relway, playing ghost. Lucius Browling vanished as soon as I’d been delivered.
Three other, silent men were present. Nobody introduced anybody.
I didn’t push. Those three likely told Block what to do and when to do it, and whether or not to smile while he did it. They had that Hill look.
Block said, “We’ve gotten back our first reports from the country, Garrett.”
“Wow. You guys move fast when you want to. I take it something didn’t go the way you wanted.”
“Our people found physical evidence and local witnesses to corroborate your report. But your silver elves were gone.”
So. The girl who got away must’ve come back to rescue the others. Elven enemies possibly having more in common than silver elves and people do. Or maybe it had to do with wanting a ride home.
Block continued, “The disk-shaped flying engine was gone, as well. The pear-shaped flying engines had been destroyed. Melted down in a heat so fierce they’d sunk right down into the earth. A search of the area produced nothing but these.” He showed me several of the gray fetish things, similar but not identical to one another.
Without invitation I suggested, “If they were that thorough about cleaning up after themselves you’d better consider the possibility that those things there were meant to be found.”
A small stir. The observers exchanged uneasy glances.
“You been holding anything back on us, Garrett?” Relway asked from his shadow.
“Deal,” Block cautioned. “Garrett? It’s a pertinent question, despite Deal’s tone.”
I wondered if Relway ever got to be the nice guy. “And the answer is, probably. Without meaning to. Remember, I brought this stuff to you guys. I don’t have any idea what you need to know, let alone anything at all about the much vaster category of ‘want to know.’”
“We don’t need to get into any pissing contests, Garrett. I have a job. All I want to do is to get it done.”
“And I’m not up for any macho headbutting, either. Where we have trouble is, you don’t want me to know why you want to know what you want to know. You even probably don’t want me to know what you want to know. Which’ll really make it impossible to answer your questions intelligently. But you’ll still put the blame on me when you don’t hear what you want to hear. Chances are good you’ll even accuse me of lying or holding out.”
One of the observers made a gesture. Block cocked his head slightly. Although I wasn’t included in I understood that there was some communicating going on in much the same fashion as when I conversed with the Dead Man. A very small handful of the most powerful of our wizardly overlords have been able to develop that talent.
I was able to read the emotional overtones.
A man entered the room. His interruption earned him frowns from everyone but me. I didn’t care. He whispered to Relway briefly. Relway studied me as though he’d just suffered a mild surprise.
That did nothing to make me more comfortable.
Colonel Block admitted, “Your argument has considerable merit, Garrett.”
In private I would’ve accused him of being a poetaster or some other artsy critter equally heinous. In front of people, where I might embarrass him, I said only, “My thinking is that we’re all on the same side despite maybe having different goals...”
There was a sign from another of the observers. I shut up because I could sense that this particular guy had taken a negative shine to me and wasn’t likely to invest a great deal of patience in me.
Block said, “These silver elves seem to control a lot of powerful sorcery, the flight thing being only the most obvious. We’d very much like to explore some of those secrets. And right now you’re the closest thing to an expert on them as exists.”
“And I’ve given you everything... Wait a minute. There’s Casey. Though you should know about Casey on your own.”
“Casey?”
“The only silver elf I’ve actually talked to. His name is something really weird. He prefers Casey. He claims to be a cop. He says he was sent out to arrest two elves nobody’s seen except maybe one crazy teenage boy. A boy who, after I grilled him mercilessly, turned out to have no clue how to find any elves. A boy who couldn’t even find his own way home without help. Casey wasn’t sure what crimes the fugitives had committed. And he didn’t care. That was for his judges to worry about. He had an apartment...” I gave the directions and details and recommended extreme caution on the parts of any investigators. Questions arose. I answered as many as I could.
Relway had another visit from the whisperer. He took an opportunity to do some whispering of his own, to Colonel Block, before he left the room in a hurry. To put together a raid on Casey’s place, I assumed.
Once he was gone, Block said, “There’re people here looking for you, Garrett. Legal type people. Did Browling do something wrong? Did he manhandle you or insult you or in any way demonstrate a lack of courtesy?”
I paused, definitely puzzled, but then observed, “Either you’re really naive or you just don’t understand what you and Relway have created. There isn’t any need for Lucius Browling to be anything but Lucius Browling for alarms to sound and people to get upset.”
He didn’t get it. We didn’t lapse into a philosophical pissing contest in front of the wizards. For such they surely were, in mufti.
“You aren’t a prisoner, Garrett. You aren’t under arrest. You’re an expert we called in to help us with a particular problem. And I wish you’d tell those people that. Evidently they’re making life very difficult for the staff up front.”
“They won’t go away just because you trot me out. What kind of legal beagle is going to take the word of a man who’s in the hands of —”
“Thank you, Mr. Garrett. I suspect that I’ve just learned a valuable lesson. And that I’ll be happy that Relway wasn’t here to pick it up as easily. Might I request your presence and assistance for as long as it take
s Relway to investigate that elf’s hideout. I’ll provide a small honorarium.”
“I’ll go tell the folks in the waiting room. But if they’re the kind of people I think they are, they won’t leave until I do.”
Block glowered.
And I was right about the lawyers.
60
The Casey raid was a disaster for the secret police. Almost everything had been removed from the place except for an extensive array of booby traps, most of them so cunning there was no way to detect them before they did their evil work.
“There were two corpses in the place when we got there,” Relway told us. “According to people in the building both were tenants who sprang traps while they were looting the place. They’d been there a while. They were getting ripe. The same people told us the elf came back this morning, beat-up and dirty. He did whatever he did in his apartment, then went through the building reclaiming his stolen stuff, which he loaded into a waiting wagon. He did leave a few things behind because he didn’t have time to recover everything. He was still there, at it, just ten minutes before we arrived. But, somehow, he knew we were coming. At ten minutes he dropped everything and took off.”
I offered a suggestion. “Look for a livery stable in the neighborhood. A place that has donkeys stabled. Possibly for rent. And don’t count on being able to recognize this guy if you run into him. He loves disguises. And he has sorceries that help him look like other people. And some of the other elves have demonstrated the ability to make themselves invisible.”
“What was that about a donkey?”
I rehashed my first encounter with Casey, disguised as Bic Gonlit. And then explained that the real Bic Gonlit seemed to be making his living working for ratman crime bosses these days. And that I suspected that the raid on Playmate’s stable had been incited by the false Bic.
Block wanted to explore the whole Bic Gonlit question more closely. There seemed to be one long coincidence right in the middle of things, that being that both Bic Gonlits would cross my path on unrelated matters.
“It probably wasn’t total coincidence,” I mused. “But I’m confident that there’s no grand plot. In order to pretend to be Bic Gonlit, Casey would’ve had to get close to the real Bic to study him. So Bic’s probably had an unexpected friend during recent months. You might see what he has to say about that.”
Colonel Block gave me a hard look. I’d just set poor Bic up for some difficult times. But Block said, “Suppose there isn’t a coincidence? Is it possible that this Casey wanted to pull you in? Maybe so he’d have somebody who really knows TunFaire looking for the two elves he wants to find?”
I considered the almost compulsive need I had, at times, for finding Lastyr and Noodiss. “It could be. I think it could be.” So did that make it the grand plot that I was confident didn’t exist?
I don’t think so. I have a feeling there was a lot of opportunism and seizing the day going on around me, particularly by Casey and Bic Gonlit.
None by me, of course. I’m too damned dumb. And then some.
“It’s been another long day, Colonel,” I said. “And I don’t see how I can possibly be any more help, no matter how much I might want to be. Other than to get those people up front out of your hair.” I was curious about that. I didn’t know anybody in the legal profession. Not well, anyway. Lawyerdom is a small community with very little official standing outside the realm of commercial relations. “And you do know where to find me if you need me.”
Block seemed distracted as he said, “All right. You’re right. You might as well go home.”
As I rose, I said, “Here’s an idea. Everything that used to belong to the elves. Whatever you’ve managed to gather up. Isolate it somewhere. Try not to talk out loud around it. And if you try to figure out how something’s magic works, make sure you don’t give away any of your own. I really believe they can spy on us through those little gray blocks, somehow.”
Colonel Block got up and walked me out himself. Once we were well away from that meeting room and the heart of his little empire, he asked, “You do know who those people were, don’t you?”
“Not specifically who. I know what.”
“All right. Listen to this. You’ve crossed paths with two of those three before. As I understand it. One of them doesn’t like you even a little bit. I don’t know what you did to inconvenience him, when or where, but he’s definitely not big on forgive and forget. If we convene one of these brainstorming sessions again, consider the remote possibility that you might do yourself the most good by not volunteering any information. Or suggestions. They don’t trust anything they don’t have to work to get. They’re cynical at a level that makes your cynicism look like playacting.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t see any point. I wasn’t quite sure I got the point he was trying to make, either. He was sort of doing that sidewise friend thing where he thought he didn’t dare be direct. I guess he was telling me to watch my back where spooky people off the Hill were involved.
To me that didn’t seem like a lesson that needed to be taught to anyone over the age of seven.
61
The legal talent had been laid on first by the Weider brewing consortium. Manvil Gilbey being quick on the draw. Later, a gentleman had arrived who, allegedly, was associated with a rather more sinister enterprise.
Harvester Temisk has been the legal point man for Chodo Contague for ages. He continues to handle some things in Chodo’s name, even though Belinda is in charge now, secretly. Which likely is no secret to him.
I couldn’t imagine how Harvester Temisk could’ve gotten involved with my problems. And he wasn’t the least bit forthcoming when I asked. All he had to say was, “I want you to come see me as soon as your current calendar clears.”
Inasmuch as his presence might’ve led to my elevation from detainee to paid consultant, I told him I’d look him up as soon as I could.
I was profuse in my gratitude to the Weider man, too, a skinny little critter with a balding head, a huge brush of a mustache, and the oddball name Congo Greeve.
Neither lawyer could’ve done a lot for me, legally speaking, because the Guard were pretty much making things up as they went. What the lawyers’ appearance did was put the Guard on notice that influential people were concerned about my welfare. And influence, nepotism, cronyism, and bribery are how the system works, Deal Relway’s mad notions of universal justice and meritocracy notwithstanding. And the actual producers and the gangsters have far more influence than our masters on the Hill see as reasonable.
I first spotted the Goddamn Parrot when I was only a block from home. That animated feather duster was getting too clever about going unnoticed.
And just after I spotted the bird I realized that I hadn’t been entirely forthright during my interview. I’d forgotten to mention my elven house guests.
In fact, I’d forgotten them completely.
Take care, Garrett. There are unfriendly ratmen in the neighborhood.
That seemed hard to credit after so many had gone down at Playmate’s stable. Still, Old Bones isn’t in the habit of being excitable.
It turned out there were only two unfriendly ratmen. And one of those had a limp so profound he was no threat to anyone but himself. The uncrippled individual approached me in a manner so bold that people on the street turned to marvel. “Mr. Garrett?”
“Guilty.” This close to the Dead Man I didn’t feel any special risk. “What do you need?”
“I bring a message from John Stretch. He has the woman Winger.”
This ratman was no Pular Singe. I could barely understand him.
As a point of information, Garrett, this fellow is John Stretch. He has only a handful of followers left, most of them injured. He fears they will desert him if he demonstrates any hesitance or lack of resolve.
“Couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy. I hope they enjoy a long and prosperous marriage.”
The ratman appeared nonplussed. “John Stretch says he will tr
ade the woman Winger for the female Pular Singe.”
“Hell, so would I. You’re kidding, right? One of my friends put you up to pulling my leg. Right? Who was it? You can help me get him back.”
The ratman was confused. This wasn’t going anything like he planned. “John Stretch says he will harm the woman Winger —”
“John Stretch isn’t likely to live long enough to harm anybody or to make deals with anybody. Rather than making more enemies John Stretch ought to be trying to find himself some new friends.”
Bic Gonlit.
Yes, indeed. “I might do business if Bic Gonlit was available for trade.”
The ratman had been difficult to understand when he was delivering a rehearsed message. Now I had to rely on a relay from the Dead Man in order to grasp what he was trying to say.
“You do not want the woman Winger?”
“What would I do with her? Nope. She’s all yours. And she’s going to take some feeding, I’ll tell you. But I am strongly interested in getting my hands on Bic Gonlit. Bic Gonlit has messed me around a couple of times lately. I’m ready to settle up.”
“Perhaps that could be arranged.” The ratman looked thoughtful.
“Actually, there’re two Bic Gonlits. The real Bic is short for a human male. He wears white boots covered with fake gemstones. The second Bic is a pretender. He’s a little taller and never wears boots. This false Bic Gonlit has created a lot of mischief. I believe he was responsible for the bad advice that led to the disaster at the stable today.”
The ratman had questions, suddenly. He had big trouble asking them without revealing that he was, himself, John Stretch. He was no genius but he did understand that he wasn’t going to come out on top if we got into a scuffle.
I told him, “The false Bic is really a wicked elf who has disguised himself so the real Bic will get blamed for the evil he does. I still haven’t figured out why he wants to cause strife and unhappiness. I guess he just does. Maybe it’s fun.”
