Harry Watt Bounty Hunter

by Rob Guy

  Harry watched with nervous intrigue as the moustachioed Methuselah approached. Without a word, the old man smiled, and bowed his head, offering the tray for inspection. Harry bowed back, and nodded his approval. The ancient Asian set the tray down on the table, then attempted to pour a measure into the glass. Harry watched in an agony of wanting to help, but also not wishing to prevent the old timer from doing his job. The decanter clinked and clattered against the glass, but he eventually succeeded in filling it without spilling a drop. His duty discharged, he bowed once more, turned about and doddered back towards the same door he had appeared from. Halfway there it opened, and two women emerged. Taking an arm each, they muttered some Mandarin rebukes, and dragged the poor fellow back through the door.

  Harry chuckled, and shook his head. He sniffed at the glass, nodded, and downed it in one. He coughed and refilled the glass, not really caring how much each shot was costing him. He was about to make it disappear when the door opposite opened. Out stepped another elderly gentlemen, but this one was of Caucasian descent, and just barely able to walk unaided. Behind him emerged a girl wearing a black lacy corset and a bored expression, bored that is until she caught sight of Harry. Her face changed to a look of, where the hell were you an hour ago? Harry automatically fell further back into the chair. At the same time the Madam re-appeared with a trio of women filing through behind her.

  “Good evening, your Honor,” she said to the lurching figure. “See you next time.”

  His Honor coughed a reply before being escorted through another door; different to the one Harry had entered through. The Madam assembled the three ladies before him. They introduced themselves as Pixie the brunette, Daisy the blonde, and yes, you guessed it, there was Angel the redhead. Each wore a corset matching their hair color and the ubiquitous high heels. Harry smirked as Angel stared back at him. Her look went from astonishment to disinterest in a flash.

  “As you seemed undecided earlier, sir,” said the Madam, “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I gave you the pick of the best.”

  “I’m impressed,” replied Harry. And he was. There were all divine looking, and though his gaze more than favored Angel, he decided to play a little game. “You know, faced with a choice I’ve discovered I can’t decide.” Angel turned her head in disgust. “For now I only want a quick fix, and this is only complicating the matter.”

  The Madam, noting his hesitation, came up with a tried and tested solution.

  “Why don’t you close your eyes, sir. I’ll get the girls to mingle and then you point. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Harry closed his eyes, and putting a finger in each ear, commenced to hum. He figured the odds were pretty good that he might pick Angel. If not, well, the other two were equally delicious. Still…. He felt the vibration through the floor and followed Angel’s tiny feet as her heels clacked. The Madam tapped him on the knee and he took a finger out of an ear and pointed.

  “A great choice, sir.”

  Harry opened his eyes and saw Angel smiling for him. The other two walked away and Harry was left to conclude business with the Madam. Shortly thereafter, Angel led him to a room, the inside of which was set up to resemble a traditional Japanese bathhouse. In the middle was a huge circular bed, draped with red and black satin sheets, and around the walls were many frescos depicting ancient Japanese scenes. Without a word, Angel went to an alcove in the middle of the wall and beckoned Harry to her. He walked over, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, and stopped in front of her, whereupon she commenced to undress him. Harry watched her for any signs of recognition, that huge grin still on his face.

  “So what do I call you?” he asked. “I know you girls all use pseudonyms, but do you want me to call you Angel or Akiko?” Akiko/Angel made no response. “Well if you’re not going to tell me I will call you Akiko, how’s that?” Akiko/Angel scowled at him. “Okay, Angel it is.”

  Still not speaking, Angel directed him to sit on a bamboo chair in the shower cubicle and commenced to undress herself. Now they were both fully naked she poured a soothing gel over Harry’s shoulders, and began to lather him up. She leaned across him, one of her small breasts brushing his forehead, and turned on the faucet. In each of her tiny hands she held a soft sponge and proceeded to wash him all over, top to tail. She took her time down below, ensuring she brought him to a full state of readiness.

  “Cap-com, we are green for go.”

  Harry was in the place where everything was okay with the world. He was beaming from ear to ear. During all this time, Angel said not a word, nor indeed did Harry. What could one say when one was getting everything one desired? Angel took her time to thoroughly rinse off all the suds. When finally she stopped the water, she proceeded to dry Harry off with a towel, again taking her time on the launch pad.

  “Cap-com, we have main engine start.”

  Once done she moved her mouth to his ears and began nipping at them with her teeth. It was at this point she whispered the two words that were the sum of her conversation.

  “Arigatou gozaimasu.”

  7

  Dolores

  Before he left, Harry asked the Madam, who had insisted he call her Dolores, since he was now a valued customer, where the nearest bar was.

  “Head for Jonny’s,” she told him. “It’s not far, honey. And I shouldn’t really say this but I know it’s where Daisy and Angel like to go after knocking off here.”

  “Thanks,’ said Harry. An appropriate turn of phrase too, he thought.

  “They both like you, I can tell.”

  “Well I’ll try and get back before I leave, but I’m on a tight schedule. Thanks again.”

  “If you can’t make it back here, there’s always our other establishment, one reserved for the more, discerning gentleman, like yourself. Or lady, for that matter.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes. The Zero G Spot. It’s down in Venera 3. Can’t miss it, my dear.”

  “Zero G Spot? Interesting name.”

  “Oh yes. Weightlessness is sooo much fun, if you follow.”

  Harry chuckled. “Yes, I think I do.”

  “I knew you would. Well, thank you, Mr Watkins. You’re welcome back anytime.” Dolores winked at him.

  Harry caught it and guessed correctly its meaning. “Do you…?”

  “Absolutely, honey, I do. Are you interested in the mature woman too?”

  “Not as a rule, but then there are always exceptions to the rule, eh?”

  “Well aren’t you the one? How are you fixed for time?”

  “Erm…”

  “You weren’t too long with Angel.”

  “As I said, it’s been a while.”

  “Well that’s not true anymore is it?” her voice as soft and smooth as the chaise long. “We can take our time unless you have an appointment.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait,” Harry found himself saying.

  “Wonderful.” Dolores rang the desk bell, and from behind a beaded curtain two hands appeared to separate it and Pixie stepped through. “Hold the fort, Pixie dear. Mr Watkins and I are going to attend to some business.”

  “Sure thing. Enjoy.”

  “Oh I intend to,” Dolores answered, taking Harry by the arm.

  Now this is what I call working the case!

  Another twenty minutes later, Harry and Dolores emerged from their room, he smiling broadly, and she looking quite flustered. They stopped at the reception desk where a very bewildered Pixie watched as Harry bent to kiss Dolores’ hand.

  “Merci beaucoup, madame,” he said. “Vous êtes un vrai délice.”

  “Oh my. Mr Watkins.” Dolores actually blushed, placing her free hand to her chest. She thanked him again for his custom, and Harry practically skipped out of the door.

  “Anytime,” Dolores purred as the door closed.

  “Dee? You okay?”

  “Never better, Pixie dear,” her eyes still fixed on the door. “Never better.” She turned away
and walked back to the room, singing and swinging her necklace.

  8

  Jonny’s

  Dolores was true to her word. Jonny’s wasn’t far. Harry wasn’t out for a drink. He now had just forty-two hours before The Infinity Wing left for Mars. In that time he had to find Rogers and/or Hammerstein and garner what information, if any, he could. The bar simply seemed the best place to start, after Delilah’s of course. And as luck would have it he wasn’t to be disappointed. In fact he struck gold. Harry had come across numerous individuals who, for one reason or another, had an axe to grind or were just simply pissed off with life, the Universe and everything. Rogers was one such guy. This hirsute little upstart was seated at the bar, wearing a horrendous day-glow Hawaiian shirt, and brandishing a wad of notes thick enough to buy the Station, let alone a round of drinks. He was getting all kinds of looks from the waitresses, working girls and boys, and what passed for the local hoodlums as he shouted and cavorted almost as loudly as his shirt.

  Harry rubbed his hands together. “Boy, this is turning into one heck of a day. Nice one, Harry, my boy.”

  He sauntered over in the direction of Rogers’ party. As he approached, a small altercation started at a table by the door. Two men stood up, and words were exchanged that sounded like Greek, but Harry was no expert. There were cards on the table so it was pretty clear what had transpired. The accuser pointed a thick, hairy finger in his opponents face, and the accused man gesticulated at the table with hands together, palms up. The hairy finger turned into a hairy fist and connected with the second man’s jaw. He went flying backwards, hit the wall and fell in a heap to the floor. He didn’t move. To the victor the spoils. But as the first man began collecting the money from the table, an even thicker hand clasped his shoulder, turned him round and frogged marched him out the door. All the time the man was remonstrating in his native tongue, trying and failing to free himself. He swung this way and that, rather like he was caught on a meat hook. The second man was treated with a little bit more care as two more of the bar security picked him up and carried him out. He groaned and Harry saw blood seeping from one side of his mouth. The punch had also caused him to bite down on his tongue. That or he’d lost some teeth, or both.

  This little sideshow concluded, Harry proceeded into the bar. There were three women sat with Rogers, all laughing at his jokes, all drinking his money. As he got closer though, he shook his head.

  Lucky for him I’m here. With this level of ineptitude this kid will be either dead or broke by the morning. Or both.

  His eye was distracted by a familiar face sat in an alcove facing the bar. Well that settled it. Man he felt good. He’d had the best sleep in months, got laid, found his mark, and now had got re-acquainted with Larry, all within hours of docking.

  “And about goddamn time,” he muttered.

  Larry waved at him, beckoning him with lank, jaundiced fingers.

  “Hi, Harry, what’ll you have?”

  “I’m good. Where the hell have you been?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “Just letting off steam. You can guess the rest, I’m sure.”

  “May I assume you used my name?”

  “Of course. Some things never change.”

  Larry grunted and laughed. “Good thing I’m dead. I’d never hear the last of it.”

  “So?” asked Harry.

  “You know I hate flying, buddy. Sure you don’t want some?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself.” Larry poured another glass of what appeared to be bourbon. He was smoking again. “Say hello to Jonny.” He hooked a thumb at a large birdcage that took possession of the entire adjacent booth. Jonny was a parrot, a rather large, scraggy looking parrot whose green and yellow feathers were scattered on the cage floor. He whistled as Larry introduced him.

  “The quality of mercy is not strained. The quality of mercy is not strained. Scraawk!!”

  Harry’s eyes looked like they were about to blow up. Larry cackled. “Cute, huh?”

  “He can see you?” Harry said, settling into his stool.

  “Of course. Most animals can. And children too.”

  “If you can keep your head when all around you are losing theirs and blaming it on you. Scraawk!”

  “If animals and kids can see you, what does that say of me?”

  “That you’re smart and instinctive. And you adapt well to your environment.”

  “If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run. Scraawk!”

  “Thanks. But what’s this about flying? This Station isn’t exactly terra-firma you know.” Harry was keeping a wary eye on Jonny, who had shuffled to the end of his perch and was casting a beady eye on him.

  “The time has come the walrus said. Scraawk!!”

  “What?”

  “Off with her head! Off with her head! Scraawk!!”

  “Eh?”

  “It’s Lewis Carroll, you philistine,” said Larry shaking his head and laughing. “And Shakespeare and Kipling before that. Jonny here is quite well read. But this bird,” he said indicating the Station, “is only spinning. It’s not flying.”

  “Depends on your perspective. To an observer on Venus we could be said to be flying.”

  “We are in orbit my friend. We are not flying. And speaking of Venus, where’s Raquel?”

  Harry did a double take. “You know about Raquel? How?”

  “Raquel! Raquel! So buxom, blithe and debonair! Scraawk!!”

  Harry gazed at Jonny, astounded.

  “Be quiet a minute, Jonny,” Larry said.

  “Quiet for Larry, quiet for Larry. Scraawk!!” Jonny hopped to the other side of his cage, and sticking his beak into a small white bowl, commenced to throw seeds through the bars at the people seated in the other adjacent booth.

  “Of course I know about Raquel,” Larry continued. “Well?”

  Harry decided long ago it was pointless to pursue the matter as to how Larry always seemed to know what he’d been up to. One curse of not being quite entirely dead, he supposed.

  “She’s still on The Dragonfly. I can’t meet her, I don’t have the time. Besides, you don’t know the trouble I had with her. I did everything but get down on my knees and beg. Nothing. She’s just not interested in me.”

  Jonny had emptied the bowl and started ringing his bell.

  Ting ting.

  “Play the guitar just like he’s ringing a bell. Go go! Go Jonny go!! Scraawk!!”

  “Just because a woman is not willing to throw herself at you within five minutes of meeting you, you naturally assumed she either doesn’t fancy you or she’s gay. Right?”

  Ting ting.

  “Erm, well…. Yes, okay, you got me there.”

  “Well it’s neither of those things, okay?”

  Ting ting.

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “Try one of her cigars.”

  Ting ting.

  Harry looked at his ex-partner as if his hair was on fire. Larry was up to something, and it made him mad because he didn’t know what that something might be.

  Ting ting.

  And that bloody bird was starting to get on his nerves. However, he did what he was asked and lifted the packet of cheroots out of his breast pocket. He was about to place one in his mouth when Larry stopped him.

  “What?” asked Harry, starting to get annoyed.

  “Take a closer look.”

  “Eh? A closer look at what?”

  “Can’t you see it? Are you that blind?”

  Suddenly Harry did see it, a tiny white dot on the end. “What the hell…?”

  With extreme care he peeled back the leaves. Encased in the tobacco was a thin white filament running the length of the cigar. He turned it in his hand and examined it. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Lucky, huh?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Come on, you’re
not that good.” Harry very carefully placed the ruined cigar in the ashtray on the table. He brushed his hands free of the flakes and smelled them.

  Ting ting.

  “Well okay, I’m not. Just a moment. Jonny? Behave yourself now. Be good.”

  “Jonny be good, Jonny be good! Scraawk!!”

  “Yes!” Larry exclaimed, and fist pumped the air. He laughed, which quickly turned into a nasty sounding coughing fit. Harry waited patiently. “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Larry said at length, his eyes watering. He noted Harry’s look of bewilderment. “Mid twentieth century blues musician. Chuck Berry?”

  “I know who Chuck Berry is, thank you. You were saying?”

  “I was? Oh yes. As soon as you docked I was back with you and so I was able to have a sneaky look-see at you two.”

  “I never saw you.”

  “You don’t always see me, buddy.”

  “That’s comforting. Will I ever have any privacy from you?”

  “Sure. Find the bastard who shot me and return the favor.”

  “Or live in something that’s permanently flying.”

  “That would work, yes,” said Larry, and blew smoke into the air.

  “So? Anything to report?”

  “Someone visited Raquel in her cabin last night. This guy handed her those cigars and told her to make sure she gave them to you as you left.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “He never entered the room.”

  “Nothing distinguishing? Tattoos? Scars?”

  “He never entered the room, Harry. Just the voice, like a scalded cat fighting another scalded cat.”

  “That distinctive, huh?” Then, with an expression like he’d just been handed a live grenade, Harry leapt out of his chair. “Hackman! Christ Almighty, Larry! You always used to say he sounded like a scalded cat. Jesus!”