by Glen Cook
I observed, “Huh?”
“He was the one following you.”
The huge man, who had a hold on Womble that engulfed Preston’s upper right arm, reported, “He says he’s been on the job since yesterday, boss. Picked Garrett up on the Hill last night.”
Seemed like Preston Womble, whom I had made up so I could get some attention, was not inclined to keep his mouth shut. Relway would appreciate that.
The Director grunted, told me, “You brought him to us so we could sweep him up. You get points for that. I’ve wanted to chat with Preston for a long time, but his girlfriend always smells us coming before we can close the trap.”
I restated my thesis. “Huh?” How come I never spotted Womble? Was I so distracted these days that I couldn’t tell when I was being tailed?
Apparently so.
That wasn’t good. It wasn’t promising in my line of work.
One of the smaller red tops announced, “He wasn’t alone, Chief. Elona Muriat was with him.”
“Of course she was. But she got away,” Relway said. “Naturally, she got away. She always does. We’ll just make do with Preston.” He glowered at the little bald man, who tried to melt like a slug dancing on salt. Relway told me, “Muriat is so slick she’ll slide out of her own skin one of these days.”
I found myself at a loss for meaningful words, but nevertheless managed to croak, “Who are these people? I never heard of them.”
“They belong to a new crop of lowlifes that ripened while you were on hiatus.”
For one reason or another, mostly the woman who preceded Strafa, I had left the adventurous life till I fell into the mess where Strafa hijacked my future. We had been acquainted before, but neither of us had been in emotional circumstances where we could acknowledge our mutual interest.
“Um.”
“Garrett. I like a man who knows when to keep his mouth shut. All right. Details. Preston and Elona are freelancers. Not exactly a couple. Friends with benefits, possibly. They don’t always work together. They aren’t heavy work types. They’re more like you. Nosies. Preston has guts in action but not much courage in static sets like interrogations. He’ll tell us why he was watching you if he knows. Or, at least, he’ll tell us who paid him to do it.”
Interesting that he called them lowlifes, then told me they were in the same racket as me. I would file that as something worth remembering.
One of Relway’s beefy boys hustled up. “Preston is babbling already, Chief. Him and Muriat was hired to follow this guy, just to see where he went and who he talked to.”
“He name any names?”
“Vicious Min.”
Relway did a silent “Huh?” response. “Who?”
I said, “And there is another name that I don’t know.”
“Marty?” Relway made a two-handed, come-on gesture.
“Preston says female, middle age, very large, giants in the family a ways back, teeth like a piranha that never learned to brush, breath to match, and a real badass attitude. Plus a lousy sense of style. Says he’s sorry, but he was so intimidated he didn’t take a closer look. Says Muriat can give us more when we catch her.”
Relway sneered. “Like that’s going to happen. All right. Sweat his ass. We can’t charge him for anything because stupid isn’t a crime yet, but we can hold him on suspicion, or in protective custody, or some damned thing.”
The ugly little man eyed me then, like he thought I belonged in the cell next to Womble. And might have entertained the notion, if for no better reason than that free — lancers aren’t under adequate state control.
Relway said, “So, Garrett, you think there’s a connection between what you want to tell me and the fact that you have some intellectual cousins riding in your hip pocket?”
“Probably. But I couldn’t guess why.”
Hell I couldn’t, considering that I was connected to the Algardas now. I wasn’t just going to get the Strafa loving. Everything else that came with a Hill family was coming to me now, too, at least out there at the edge of their dust cloud.
12
The catch crew took Preston to his guest suite. More hospitably, Director Relway took me to his personal quarters, which doubled as his working space. Before he acquired his current status, that space had been two jail cells. Relway had removed some intervening bars and permanently locked the door of one cell. He had no privacy, although no one else occupied space in the area.
I could not be comfortable there, despite having visited before. Relway understood and savored my discomfort. He did resist the temptation to suggest that I reflect on what it would be like to become a permanent resident.
Deal Relway knows that no one else in the world is honest enough and trustworthy enough not to deserve being caged. Deal Relway is the world’s lone perfect pillar of righteousness.
I exaggerate, but not much.
His patience, tolerance, and self-control suggested that he had something on his mind. He thought I could help, somehow. He did not explain right away, though. He deferred.
He did say, “General Block isn’t in today, which is why Helenia came to me about you.” He paused. I didn’t shove anything into the silence. “She says you’ve stumbled across a new criminal enterprise.”
Had I said anything to give the woman that idea? Well, maybe she heard that, or at least said so after what I told her fermented inside her head before it came back out in a report to Relway. And the thesis was sound. That was why I had come to the Al-Khar.
“Let me try to tell it in one go and you ask questions after.”
“I’m listening.” He settled into a chair with very little padding, steepled his hands under his chin, and waited.
Like I said, Relway makes me uncomfortable. Crazy people always do. Though Relway is supposedly one of the good guys, he is also completely loony. Deadly loony.
The twitch in the right corner of his mouth said he was aware of the effect his behavior was having. He was enjoying my discomfort.
I told my story. I left out nothing. He wasn’t crazy enough to hassle Shadowslinger’s friends. He let me ramble, showing an impressive range of expressions as I proceeded; then he did homage to his normal disbelief by asking, “What did you leave out?”
“Nothing.” I have sometimes withheld something. We both knew that. He always ripped me about it and I always lied, claiming that I was doing no such thing. “Really, truly, swear on your favorite religious tract. This is a whole new kind of weird for me. Wait. Maybe I did. . Yeah. You could say I left out the fact that Shadowslinger, Bonegrinder, and all them probably wouldn’t want me talking to the law.”
“I took that into account.”
I offered a raised eyebrow by way of response.
“Hill folks think they’re above the law. I can’t reason out why they would set Preston and Elona on your trail, though.”
“Me, either.”
“Are you into anything else?”
“No. Just Strafa, these days.”
“The Windwalker. I envy you, Garrett. I truly envy you, being on a personal name basis with. . Never mind. Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Then he stopped, thinking.
I filled this silence. “Preston Womble. Elona Muriat. And Vicious Min. I really, honestly, never heard of any of them. But heading down to Macunado Street last night, with Strafa, I caught a whiff of Lurking Fehlske.”
Fehlske is in the surveillance racket, too. He is a genius at remaining invisible. He is like a ghost. Unfortunately, he is also allergic to bathwater.
Relway waved a hand dismissively. “His sort are in endless supply.” Putting me down without addressing me directly. “You still work for the brewery, right? Any possible connection there?”
“Who would mess with Max Weider?”
The brewing king is as powerful as the boss of the Outfit and Director Relway combined when it comes to having the financial wherewithal to impose his will. But Max isn’t that kind of guy so long as the world leaves him alone. However, there is no shortag
e of too stupid to survive.
“Still only the usual minor pilfering, then.”
“That never goes away completely, though there’s not much of that anymore. I’m good at what I do, Max is a good boss, and jobs are scarce. You don’t risk yours over pocket change.”
“What I figured. How about Amalgamated and the Tates? That situation has got to be touchy.”
That was something I would rather not discuss. But, “Yes, that has gotten complicated.”
The Amalgamated Manufacturing Combine produces a range of devices invented by Cypres Prose. Kip. I have a small share in AMC and have been its head security guy since the Combine was formed. Max Weider and Kip are serious stakeholders, too, but the Tates are the folks who run the business. I was involved with one of the Tate women for a long time. The involvement was why Kip partnered up with the family for financial and production backing. There was a lot of drama, high-level maintenance, and plenty of disdain from the other Tates. Then Strafa came along.
Relway said, “I would imagine. How bad do they want you to go away?”
“Me going wouldn’t break many hearts.”
He nodded, steepled his fingers again. “But they can’t push you out, can they? That would aggravate Max Weider. And Cypres Prose might walk with you.”
“I don’t know about that. Kip is really serious about Kyra Tate.”
“Who is also your pal, if I recall.”
“One light in the wilderness.” I had the angle of his thinking now. It was plausible, too. He could be right. Preston and his girlfriend, and the Min woman, might have to do with the past instead of the present or future.
“The old boys, the uncles, those guys worship bottom lines. They would suck it up and keep you around because you’re good at what you do.”
“Why, thank you, sir.”
“And one of the things you do best is irritate the shit out of everyone around you. How about the younger Tates? The ones with the bruised feelings? Are they capable of putting a tag on you?”
“Capable? Sure. Likely to do it? No. Tinnie wouldn’t turn stalker. She has quirks and hang-ups and twists of mind but only at neurotic levels. Kyra? Not at all. She doesn’t care about anything but Kip. And the boys are just glad that I’m gone. They don’t have to explain me anymore.”
Relway rubbed his fingertips together, wondering.
“I think even considering the Tates takes away from what’s really happening. Womble, Muriat, and Min have to have something to do with this Tournament of Swords stuff.”
Relway looked out to the hallway, frowning. There was a ruckus out there somewhere. “On balance, I’m inclined to agree. But there is the cousin, Rose Tate, a bad seed with lots of screws loose. Could she be trying to get leverage on the chief of security now that he isn’t protected by the rest of the family? Would she try to end your ankle-biting if she thought she could manage it without making Cypres Prose walk away?”
He showed that twitch in the corner of his mouth. In his special way he had just told me that he had a clear understanding of the dynamics inside Amalgamated and the Tate family. He knew that black sheep Rose had been up to wickedness the family wanted kept from the other shareholders.
Cautiously, I admitted, “Rose would be a possibility. Remote, but a possibility.”
“The most plausible possibility that I see.”
“Unless it has to do with the tournament nonsense.”
“Unless. Which, I suspect, we’ll hear more about momentarily. I imagine that racket has to do with Womble having given up everything else he knows.”
People argued heatedly in muted voices, moving slowly closer. One insisted that the Director had left instructions not to be disturbed. Another argued that it was imperative that he should be. The latter sounded like oddly shaped Helenia.
Relway composed himself, resigned to the interruption. “Did your Hill friends know you were coming here? How important is that?”
13
Everything was about to change. Everything was about to head off at ninety degrees from everything that had gone before.
I had just stopped shaking my head when Helenia appeared outside Relway’s den. The Director called his failed gatekeeper off, beckoned Helenia into his presence. Helenia gave me a scared, sad sort of look as she scuttled to her boss, bent, put a hand to his ear, whispered busily.
Them being near each other made me wonder if her unusual assembly specs might not be a result of the same rowdy raids on the family tree that had produced Deal Relway himself.
Toneless, he said, “Shit,” language so uncharacteristic that it was as startling as a scream. He tried to appear blank when he faced me, but I could tell that something was wrong. Something was most definitely wrong.
“What?” I demanded.
Relway sucked in several gallons of air. “No beating around it. Never actually softens it. Furious Tide of Light has been killed.”
Huh?
It was like. . Like nothing. No. That couldn’t be true. That couldn’t happen. Why was he messing with me?
“What?” Like I might have heard him wrong? Like I had heard him from way off in another universe? Or something. He was saying something improbable, so something impossible had to be happening. “I don’t get. . I didn’t get. . That can’t be.” Head on down to the bottom line of what everybody knows. People can’t get close enough to a sorceress like Strafa to actually hurt her. “Killed?”
“Attacked and killed. On the street in front of her house.”
Ambush? I knew the perfect place and time. Right when you were fiddling with the pedestrian gate, going into the property. Only. . What would Strafa be doing going through the gate? She would have been airborne when she arrived home.
“There isn’t anything more yet. But she wasn’t alone. The woman she was with was injured badly but survived.”
“But she may not last,” Helenia added, staring hard at the dirty stone floor, probably distracting herself from the intensity of the moment by making cleaning plans. “We will have more information soon.”
Of course. An attack on someone from the Hill, especially of Strafa’s stature, would make the Guard drop most everything.
I had gone numb emotionally. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do. This was a twist beyond imagination. I had seen some harsh times, especially during the war, but I’d never been smacked between the eyes by something as sudden and evil and unexpected as this. Even when Mom left us, the process had taken a while. There had been time to hone my emotional defenses.
For no special reason I recalled civilians sitting among the ruins of their homes and lives, surrounded by the desolation the people and stuff of those lives had become once the fighting swept through their part the world. Lost souls, every one, every time.
I tried to remember that we humans are resilient. Most of those people came back, eventually.
I tried, but at the moment had little inclination to believe.
“Garrett.”
“Uh. Unh?”
“You should go out there, find out what really happened. The reports might be mistaken.”
Early reports often are. Usually are. Yes! That might be. .
There had been no mistake. I knew that right down to the core of my soul. “Yeah. I guess.” But I did not get up. I put on my best thousand-yard stare and just sat there, mind empty.
“There might be something you can do. Familywise,” he amended, since it was too late to help Strafa.
My response must have seemed too-long delayed. “Yeah. Maybe.” I did get up then, still focused only on what was happening on the far side of the horizon.
Relway said, “Helenia, find Target. Tell him to bring Womble. Wait up, Garrett. I’ll send some people with you. This may turn out to be a job for my section.”
I held up. Even rattled and numb I realized that he wanted to look out for me. But in that state I would just do what I was told, slowly, or I would do nothing at all. I had learned that about me d
uring the war.
In seconds Helenia was at it again with the man who had tried to keep her away from the Director. It sounded like there was a relationship there. Concern underlay everything else.
“Shouldn’t take but a few minutes,” Relway said. “I know you’ve seen all this before, even if you haven’t lived it. The numb will start to wear off soon. You’ll be mad as hell. That’s when you really need to watch it so you don’t do something stupid. You have to control yourself. If what happened is connected to your blood tournament, the Civil Guard will handle it.”
I looked straight into his eyes. And didn’t see their color, though I knew they must be. . brown? I was still empty, but he saw something behind the emptiness. Something that left him exceptionally uncomfortable.
He knew that Garrett isn’t somebody you get in front of when he gets hot. It takes him a while to get there, then. .
“Don’t do anything to put yourself on the wrong side of the law, Garrett.”
I grew up in TunFaire. Till the last few years, justice was a craft industry. You made it yourself. A lifetime of that wasn’t going away because some dreamer wanted me to live up to his ideals.
I said nothing to contradict him, though.
The crew member of unusual size from the gang that snagged Preston Womble turned up quickly. He had Preston with him, Womble scampering to avoid being dragged. The big guy stopped outside Relway’s cage. “Set to go, boss,” he said. “What do you got?”
Womble lost some color after he looked at me.
I didn’t feel it consciously, but the next stage was getting some traction.
Relway said, “Take Mr. Garrett home. I want you both to stick with him. You understand me, Womble?”
“Yes, sir. I do, Director. Yes indeed. How long shall I pursue those instructions, sir? What is my function to be?”
Womble belonged to that class of people who go a long way in very small doses, obviously.
“We’ll tell you when you’re done. Your job is to look out for Garrett. You will do whatever it takes to keep him healthy and happy. You’ll also do whatever Target tells you to do.”
