Harry Watt Bounty Hunter

by Rob Guy

  “Sit down, you idiot. You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

  Harry realized he was standing up, and to all eyes was shouting at the wall like a madman. He looked round sheepishly before sitting back down. The low background murmurings resumed.

  “How in Hell did he get on The Dragonfly?” Harry said in a whisper. “He’s supposed to be long gone.”

  “That’s for you to find out, buddy.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “I got the impression that Raquel was working for him, but that she was no longer keen to comply. I figure he has something on her. He leaned in close at one point and whispered something that caused her to turn as white as a ghost, if you’ll pardon the expression. I didn’t catch what he said.”

  “That sonofabitch.”

  “Yes indeed. But it gives us a great opportunity to crack two cases for one. You nail that s.o.b. Hackman here before moving on to Mars. It’ll be a cinch. You and me working together again.”

  “I see your point. But I’ve got less than two days before The Wing leaves for Mars. I can’t afford to miss it or Headlock will have my nuts for golf balls.”

  “True. But Hackman knows you’re here, and he’s already tried to get rid of you. Just keep yourself visible and that bastard will make his move, I guarantee it.”

  “Wish I shared your certainty, old buddy.”

  “But if you feel you need some more help, something to keep you focused, there is something you can use. But you’ll need to find a bribable physician.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard up here. What is it?”

  “BrainTicker. You remember it?”

  Harry laughed. “Of course I do. We used it to get through the entrance exam for the Bureau, and pretty much every test thereafter. It’s still illegal.”

  “So it should be.”

  “I got some good results because of it, but I also had lots of sleepless nights. A couple of bad trips too, I remember.” Harry stared at the floor and shook his head. “I don’t know, Larry. I would have to be real careful with the dose. We don’t have Carson up here to stop us frying our brains.”

  Larry chuckled, and began coughing again. “Yeah, good old Carson. Best medicine man in the whole of East America.”

  “But I don’t have that long, Larry. We gotta move fast.”

  “Aucune merde.”

  “Oui, no shit.”

  The pair fell silent for a moment. Larry continued to blow smoke into the air, Harry was pondering his next move.

  “Well,” he said at length, “I was thinking that if I stay off the sauce I should be fine.”

  “You? No chance!”

  “Thanks for your confidence. But I mean it. As for the BrainTicker, I’ll keep it in mind. But I’m worried about Raquel. If she’s being coerced I need to get her off The Dragonfly. She can’t stay on there, not after this.” He indicated the ashtray.

  “Sure she can. That’s the safest place for her. You can’t have her here. You said so yourself you can’t work round her. She’s too much of a distraction.”

  “Yes I know I said that. But that was before you told me about her and bloody Hackman.”

  “I know. But he’s off the ship now. He’s here.”

  “How can you know that? Why are you so sure? Is it your undead intuition?”

  “There’s no such thing, you idiot. But I do know how a psychopath’s mind works, and Hackman definitely falls into that category. He’ll want to see you get it. If not he’ll want to do it himself. He’s here, trust me.”

  Again Harry looked at the floor, looking quite desolate.

  “Do you know Headlock spoke to me?” he remarked suddenly.

  “I missed it. What did he say?” Harry filled him in. “Hmm.” Larry stroked his weathered chin. “Interesting.”

  “In what way? Come on, out with it.”

  “I don’t trust him any more than you do. When you went to inspect those crates he must have found out somehow. He was probably feeling you out.”

  “How could he have known about that? Oh wait a minute. You suspect Raquel, don’t you?”

  “Why not? Don’t let your crown jewels deaden your logic, Harry. In situations like these you have to be objective.”

  Harry pulled his lips tight shut and was silent for a long time. He hated to think that Raquel might be spying on him for Headlock, but he had to reluctantly admit the evidence was mounting. What did that bastard have on her? Her demeanour had changed drastically after they had inspected the crates. Had something happened to her after that? There he went again, taking it for granted that all her actions were the result of her operating under duress. But it was difficult for Harry to see Raquel as some sort of Femme Fatale.

  “It might be worth your while getting hold of Manny,” Larry suggested. “He can help by keeping us informed.”

  “I know, but I have to assume Headlock is watching him. Not personally of course. That sonofabitch never gets his hands dirty. I don’t plan on making contact with Manny until I get to Mars. Last thing I want is Headlock suspecting I suspect him of duplicity.”

  “Wise words my friend,” Larry said. “Oops,” he added, casting his eyes over Harry’s shoulder. “Watch out. Waitress coming over.”

  “What’ll ya have, sweetie?”

  “Huh?” Harry turned round to see the waitress standing behind him; tall and skinny, with a yellow headscarf tied in a bow, keeping a mass of auburn curls in check.

  “I said what’ll ya have?”

  “Nothing, thanks, I’m good.”

  “Listen, sweetie, ya gotta order something. One drink at least, that’s the rule.”

  “Marge is a sweetie. Marge is a sweetie. Scraawk!”

  Marge scrunched up her face and threw Jonny a seed lump from her apron pocket. He caught it deftly in his beak and commenced chewing and spitting it to shreds.

  “What rule?” asked Harry, wiping off pieces of sunflower seed from his sleeve.

  “The rule that says ya gotta buy one drink if you come in here.”

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  “It’s not about whether you’re thirsty or not. Ya gotta buy a drink or you’ll have to leave. That’s the rule here.”

  “Dumb rule.”

  “Dumb rule, dumb rule. Scraawk!”

  The waitress dropped the nicey-nice act. “Look, buster, either order something or Clyde over there, he’ll ask you to leave.”

  Harry tilted his head to see where the waitress was pointing, and saw a reasonably massive individual who looked far from friendly. In fact Harry recognized him as the same man who had evicted the pugilist.

  “Clyde big guy, Clyde big guy. Scraawk!”

  “Harry, why do you needlessly antagonise people?” Larry asked.

  “Blow me.”

  “Blow me, blow me. Scraawk!”

  “Okay. I don’t need to hear that. Clyde!”

  “No no, not you. I was speaking to…” Clyde had put down his book and was getting out of his seat. “Okay okay. I’m sorry. I’ll have a club soda, please.”

  “Clyde coming over. Oh dear. Scraawk!”

  Clyde had arrived. “How you doing, Jonny boy?”

  “Clyde main man, main man. Scraawk!”

  “You better believe it.” Another seed lump. “Everything okay here, Marge?”

  “Ask him.”

  Clyde looked down at Harry, huge blue eyes and head to match. “Is there trouble here, sir?”

  “Absolutely not, Clyde, just a misunderstanding.”

  “I see.”

  “Nietzsche.” Harry pointed to the book.

  “Indeed,” said Clyde turning it over. “You’re a fan?”

  “Nietzsche sucks, Nietzsche sucks. Scraawk!” Marge put two fingers to her lips and giggled.

  “Oh how can you not be?” Harry asked, becoming increasingly agitated by Jonny the bloody parrot. “Certainly my favorite philosopher of the last two….”

  “Three,” interjected Larry, sensing, as usual, whe
re this was going.

  “Sorry, yes, three hundred years.”

  “Mmh. What areas interest you?” Clyde, scepticism a requirement in his line of work, folded his arms, and waited for Harry’s erudite reply.

  “Erm, that’s a toughie.” Harry rubbed his chin, hoping this made him look thoughtful. He glanced at Larry, who at first rolled his eyes, then grinned. Clyde followed his gaze and frowned at the back wall.

  “Ready?” asked Larry.

  Harry indicated a yes with a slow blink.

  “Well,” said Larry/Harry, “his thoughts on the realities of the world, his concept of life-affirmation I particularly enjoy. It’s an interesting premise to dismiss religion as a human creation.”

  “Indeed it is,” said Clyde, his expression showing obvious surprise. “I like how he questions the value and objectivity of truth.”

  “Radically,” Larry/Harry suggested.

  “Yes, radically,” Clyde agreed, nodding his head. Between them, wearing a bemused expression, stood Marge. If she had had a cigarette in her mouth, it would by now have fallen out.

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “There’s only one philosopher worth talking about.”

  Clyde waved her away. “You and your Wittgenstein.”

  “Wittgenstein main man, main man. Scraawk!”

  “Oh yeah?” said Marge, hands on hips, undeterred. “Just because your man was born a century before mine doesn’t make him any less important or influential. Logical necessity? Anti-realism? Metaphysics?”

  “All of which are fine but there’s no denying Nietzsche’s Will to Power is influential.”

  “Ha! Tell that to Alfred Adler.”

  “Who was born after Nietzsche. I rest my case.”

  “Nietzsche never fully defined it in his work. You’re talking out your ass.”

  “I don’t have time for this. You enjoy your stay, sir,” Clyde said, and tipped an imaginary hat.

  “Thanks.” Harry looked up at Marge. “Impressive.” She made a rude noise. “Club soda?”

  Marge twisted her mouth. “Sure.” She turned on her heels and left them alone.

  “Boy that was fun,” said Harry chuckling away. “We’re a good team, Larry.”

  “Indeed we are. Now, back to business. You concur with my little plan?”

  “Which one?”

  “Killing Hackman, what else?”

  “Absolutely, my friend. If Hackman is here I will find him and I will kill him. How does that sound?”

  “Simple and straightforward. I like your thinking. But how will you do that without your gun?”

  “I’ll think of something. But now I would appreciate your input on those crates. What do you think the Judge is up to?”

  “I’m not sure. But Tyrell is tied up with all of this as well. So is this Hammerstein chap. And on that subject isn’t that your mark at the bar?”

  “Yes,” Harry replied without turning round. “He’s another one that could end up dead if he’s not careful. The crates?”

  “Hansel & Gretel, you say?” Harry nodded. “Interesting.” Larry rubbed at his chin again. Harry sighed and waited. “The stuff was rock hard when you found it which would indicate the moisture in the air made it so. That’s where the water comes in.”

  “That was my thinking. But where do you get all that water?”

  “Earth, naturally.”

  “Again I thought so too. But you are talking millions, heck, billions of tonnes. Think of the payload. You’d need thousands of shuttles to get that into orbit and shipped out here. Hardly cost effective.”

  “Good thinking, Harry. I concur. Nice to see you working this one right for a change.”

  “Spare me your platitudes, please.”

  “So?”

  “My guess is the asteroid belt. At first I thought maybe Titan, but it’s too far out. Ganymede maybe, as long as you’re not in too much of a hurry. For me it’s the asteroid belt. Once you get the mining operational you just keep loading the barges and away you go. And this all ties in with Petersen’s disappearance and this guy.” Harry hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  “You have been thinking the case, haven’t you? But if that’s all true, what is Petersen doing on Mars?”

  “Ah. I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “I see. So, let’s back up a bit here. Headlock wins the contract to manufacture the pseudo-asbestos. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “That done, he now has to figure out how to get billions of tonnes of H2O to Venus in order for it to work.”

  “Correct.”

  “But in the meantime two of his top employees go AWOL, one of whom is a crack hydrologist and also decides to take some spending money from the company coffers.”

  “True, but I think we both agree that he didn’t take anything. Headlock’s story is bullshit.”

  “Agreed. Harry, I think you’re wrong. I think all your answers are waiting for you on Mars. Petersen is the key player here. Headlock knows you too well. He knew you couldn’t resist coming here to question Rogers, that you would take some pleasure in disobeying him. He’s played you, I think.” Larry backed away slightly and held up his hands. “Don’t say it, you’ll only draw attention to yourself…”

  “Sonofabitch!”

  Harry shook his fists at the wall, again giving the impression that he was losing an argument with empty space.

  “You’re going to get yourself locked up one of these days,” Larry told him. “You need a drink, and I don’t mean club soda.”

  “I’m off the booze.”

  “Oh come on, you’re not fooling me.”

  “I’m off the booze, like I said.”

  “Christ, Harry, you’re serious aren’t you?”

  “Not for ever, just till I crack this one.” He shook his head. “Bloody Headlock. That bastard has been the bane of my adult life.”

  Larry made a noise, leaned over and broke wind. “What, you’re an adult now?”

  “Very funny. He holds that damn gun running caper over my head like a, like a…”

  “Like a sword of Damocles, I think is the phrase you’re looking for.”

  “Some Greek guy’s monkey, anyway.”

  “Roman.”

  “Whatever. You know what I mean. God that stinks!”

  “Best ones always do. But you were caught red handed, Harry, you can’t deny that.”

  “And so what I did is any worse than what Headlock and his associates get up to?”

  “Hey. You’re preaching to the choir here, buddy. We’re singing from the same hymn sheet. But he, and they, have the power. What you need to do is tilt the table in your favor.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Well, even I can’t think of everything.”

  Harry slumped his shoulders. “Thanks for nothing.”

  “You’re welcome. Now we’ve put the world to rights, let’s get back to the present. There’s Rogers. What’s your plan?” Larry blew more smoke out of the corner of his mouth and flicked the butt away.

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Harry, his eyes following it.

  “Only if you’re in my realm. And certainly no more toxic than one of my farts. What are you going to do?”

  “Get him away from those bimbos for a start.”

  “You’ll need a distraction.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Light one of Raquel’s cigars and stand well back. And for Christ’s sake don’t put it in your mouth.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You did. It was lurking down there somewhere. I just beat you to it.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Really? I thought I was flattering you.”

  “Beat it. I’ll see you later.”

  Harry stood up and turned around. Larry never just disappeared before his eyes. It is something the undead just don’t do. Even Jonny moved to the far end of his perch. During their very first meeting after his partner’s death, Larry had told
Harry that, “if you do happen to be looking at a spirit when they dissolve into the ethereal then there is every chance you could be dragged in with them, kicking and screaming as all things from your deepest nightmares fight for your eternal soul. Yes, not very nice.”

  “Here’s your soda, sir.”

  “Eh? Oh, thank you,” Harry said, somewhat startled by the re-appearance of Marge the waitress. He stepped back slightly as she thrust the glass into his chest and squared up to him.

  “And whatever you and Clyde think, I’m with Jonny. Wittgenstein rules and Nietzsche sucks.”

  “I concede your point.”

  “Good.” She looked at him oddly as the departing Larry lifted Harry’s hair up. They both shivered as a breath of cold air passed over them. An expression formed on Marge’s face, one that Harry had only seen once before when Larry did his vanishing act. Just for a moment Marge looked lost, a once habored soul suddenly cast upon the terrible drifting limbo tide. Jonny too, was going ape shit in his cage. He flapped and squawked like one demented, sending feathers everywhere till his cage resembled a shaken snow globe. Then just as quickly he settled, and Marge was also back, with only a slight wobble. She steadied herself on Harry’s arm.

  “Are you okay?” he said, genuinely concerned.

  “Yes. I am now. Your friend, he…” She struggled for the words, searching. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

  “Larry gone, Larry gone. Scraawk!”

  “Harry,” said Harry, throwing Jonny a cursed look.

  “Thank you, Harry.” She looked down at the glass. “On the house.” When she looked back at him, her eyes were different, less hostile. She actually smiled, and this one gesture touched Harry’s heart more than anything he could remember in recent memory.

  “Marge, I need you to leave, right now. Can you do that? I have to do something and I’m not too sure what’s going to happen.”

  “Okay,” she said calmly. “I can do that.”

  “Good. Right now, okay? Grab your things and go home.”

  “Go home. Okay.”

  “You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise. Hopefully you’ll remember nothing.”

  “Okay. Bye, Harry.”

  “Bye, Marge.”

  Harry watched her go, appreciative of the fact that Larry had touched another troubled soul and calmed it. So soon as Marge was out of sight, Harry took out the packet of cigars and bade them another inspection. There were six left in the packet, and all had the same filament running through them. However, as he looked closer he noted that only three were white and the other three light blue in color. Obviously these would react differently to the white ones once ignited.