“Hank,” Leeny said, smiling his twisted smile. “Glad you could come. Not too busy fighting aliens, I see.” He didn’t stand up, probably because he was wedged under his silly desk.
“No, I thought I’d go back to harassing little old ladies,” I said truthfully. “Much safer.”
“You haven’t tangled with my mother, then,” he warned. “Have a seat, please. Care for a drink?”
I sat down and the chair tilted dangerously. The bookkeeper kept his eyes staring at nothing. His legs were together and his hands folded in his lap.
“Sure, whatever you got.”
Leeny clicked a button on his desk.
“Three drinks,” he said into a microphone.
He caught me looking at some of his statues, which were spirally and odd.
“I like those because they look like me,” he said with a booming laugh.
I smiled.
“So, Hank, Belvaille’s going crazy. Garm wants me to purge all my records and we got the military getting ready to set up shop. I had to turn over a hotel for ‘official use.’”
“We’re all scrambling. I hope it works out.”
“Me too. Me too,” Leeny said thoughtfully.
Just then his secretary entered carrying a tray of drinks. She was nearly naked, with an incredible body, and had such an exaggerated walk it hurt my groin to watch. She handed us all our drinks and left.
“Sweet girl,” Leeny said after she exited. “She was actually born on Belvaille. A rare native. Mother died in the line of business, you know.”
“Hmm,” I said, sipping my drink.
“Right. To the point. Hank, I want to thank you for taking care of Ddewn. I know it’s not proper to speak ill of the dead, but the guy was psychotic.”
“No problem. Like you said, we’re cleaning house.”
“Exactly. And, do you know my bookkeeper?” He indicated the hair bush, who was holding his glass of alcohol disdainfully.
“I think we’ve met briefly,” I hazarded.
“You were covered in blood,” the bookkeeper said with a thick accent.
“Sounds like Hank,” Leeny joked. “The point is, when the military gets here, they aren’t just going to be checking for drugs and whatever. They’re going to be checking us out as individuals. Is your money in order?”
“My what?” I asked.
“Your books. You presumably have some wealth, right?”
“Sure,” I said uneasily.
“Well, I’m lending you my bookkeeper. He can help you stash your money, clean it up, sift it out, so that when he’s done, you’ll look like the most respectable person on Belvaille.”
“Oh.” I didn’t really know what to think or where to begin. I had never really thought about people looking at my bank statements.
Leeny stood up, pleased with himself.
“Well, I’ll let you two get at it. Take as long as you want. I need to work with our esteemed Adjunct Overwatch, anyhow. See you.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I said.
Leeny left the office, closing the door behind him.
The bookkeeper took out some devices, ledgers, and things I didn’t know, which had been secreted about his person. He balanced them on his lap, the crook of his arm, his forearm, and a bulge in his jacket. He looked very prepared.
“First, can I ask if you have any investments?” he asked.
“Like, what do you mean?”
“Shares in corporations or municipals or derivatives. That sort of thing.”
“I-I’m not sure. How would I know, exactly?”
The bookkeeper looked at me a moment. The hair made it impossible to tell what his expression was. He made some notations in his various devices.
“Where do you store your funds?” he asked.
“My credits?”
“Yes. Your credits.”
“The bank. I guess,” I said. I was feeling unintelligent and didn’t know why.
“Ah, good. Do you have multiple accounts and what types? And which banks do you utilize?”
“I’ve just got the one. Just the bank. Am I supposed to use more?”
“Yes. You see, splitting your money among different banks makes it harder to track your activities. You could have some pay from one employer, use accounts for certain types of purchases, utilize different banks in different states and take advantage of the local regulations.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I don’t do that.”
“May I see your account, then? All this information is confidential.”
I punched in some codes to my tele and showed it to the bookkeeper. He leaned forward and stared at it for what seemed like an incredibly long time considering there wasn’t all that much to read. Finally he sat back and looked at me.
“Don’t you ever purchase anything?”
I looked at my tele.
“What?”
He closed up all his ledgers and instruments and stood up.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” he said.
“Why?”
“I was under the impression you had less. Or at least had it more diversified. You would need to split that up among dozens of accounts to try and hide it and at this point there isn’t enough time. They will notice you moving around that much money even more than if you left it alone. I suggest you start coming up with alibis for your sources of income.”
I stood up. I had come in here fine, now I was worried about my money.
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“That money,” he said, pointing at my tele, “had to come from somewhere.”
“Working,” I replied, indignant.
“The government does not consider killing people working,” he said, moving to the door with his things.
“I do more than that.”
“You don’t have to convince me. You have to convince the auditors.”
He had his hand on the doorknob.
“Well, what are some good stories to tell them?” I asked desperately.
“I don’t do stories, sir. I manage funds.” And he strode out of the room.
CHAPTER 23
“Hey, pal,” Jyonal said as he opened their door.
“Back at you,” I answered with a fake grin.
He stepped aside and let me in. I was carrying a very heavy package I hoped to get rid of. I laid it on the ground gently.
“Jyen, Hank’s here,” he called to the back rooms.
Jyen walked in, wearing an undersized skirt that showed off her complete lack of body fat. What was most eye-catching, however, was the fact her skin was bright orange.
“Thanks for dropping by,” she said, giving me a hug. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you smiling.”
I still had my shocked expression from having met Jyonal at the door.
“Yeah,” I said. “My teeth keep growing.”
“You’re probably wondering why I’m this color,” she said, twirling around.
No. But my job was to be a pet to these nuts so they didn’t kill us all.
“Sure,” I said.
“The blue is a disguise. This is my natural skin pigment. When they put out searches for us, they’d be looking for someone with orange skin. They might describe other stuff, but police were going to be looking for orange most of all. So the fact I was blue, and didn’t hide it, made me clearly not the person they were looking for.”
“Why not color yourself like everyone else?”
“Why blue? I needed to cover it with a darker shade.”
All that seemed a little shaky to me and it must have shown on my face because she continued.
“Think about it. If you’re describing a Therezian, you’re going to say ‘look for someone who is as tall as a building.’ You might also say what scars he has and hair color, but all that isn’t nearly as important as his height because it’s so obvious. If he could somehow change his height to be normal, he might match every other description you have of the pers
on, but you wouldn’t bother because he’s not the right height.”
I had to admit that seemed fair logic. And it apparently had gotten them safely to Belvaille, though I had to wonder if her ears wouldn’t also be a primary descriptor.
“Is that a present for us?” she asked, pointing to the wrapped package I had.
“No, it’s the metal,” I answered, uncovering the delfiblinium. “Turns out, heh, it’s explosive.” I shrugged playfully, as if it was a wacky inconvenience having a comet-destroying piece of alloy at my feet. “I was hoping Jyonal could magic it away. I can’t even remember what you all gave it to me for.”
“For saving our lives,” Jyen reminded sincerely.
“It’s not magic,” Jyonal said. There was something decidedly more unnerving about him when he was sober. “I change things almost instantaneously, but if it is explosive, there’s a chance it might detonate. I can try, though.”
I quickly covered the metal cube.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Shouldn’t be a big deal. But to be on the safe side, you probably shouldn’t make any more.”
“We didn’t know it was explosive,” Jyen said.
“It’s fine. I have your guys’ paperwork.”
I handed them each a small stack of documents and cards based on the biodata they had given me on a previous visit.
“Will it matter if I’m orange or blue?” Jyen asked.
“No. Physical appearance never factors in. That stuff is way too easy to change. But if Jyonal goes and makes himself a new body again, that might be a problem. At least for the R.O.M. and Citizenry Doc. It was pretty difficult to get all this stuff, the forgers are really backed up because of the Navy coming. But you guys are now free to move anywhere in the Confederation.”
“Thanks, Hank,” Jyonal said, examining the items thoughtfully. He glanced at his sister.
“You’ve been a tremendous help, and a great friend. But we’re not sure if we want to leave Belvaille.”
I felt myself smiling again as I thought of what to say.
“Oh, yeah?” was all I could come up with.
“We’ve read all about the space station in The News. It’s just the kind of outlaw place where we could fit in. No one will notice us here. If we leave, we’re just going to have to keep running forever.”
“Yeah, Belvaille is at the edge of the galaxy with just one Portal in. And we’re acquainted with the most famous person on the station,” Jyonal added kindly.
I was going to kill Rendrae. Take this hunk of delfiblinium and beat him on the head with it. But this wasn’t going to do. I had to convince these guys to shove off at the earliest opportunity. They were wanted by the military and probably wanted by the Dredel Led and who knows what else.
We spent the night playing cards and having a few glasses of alcohol, which I religiously refused, hoping Jyonal would do the same. He did not.
The poor bastards, having grown up in a laboratory, were virgins when it came to cards. I had to explain every rule. As we played, I tried to slander Belvaille as best I could, hoping to cast it in a darker light. I would have talked up other colonies and cities as better alternatives, but I didn’t really know any.
After a bit, though, I overplayed my hand.
“Do you not want us to stay, Hank?” Jyen asked astutely.
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just want you guys to be clear on what the station is really like. I want what’s best for you two. I feel like we’re good friends,” I said.
“Me, too! We have so much in common,” Jyen said enthusiastically.
I gave her a look. I couldn’t think of two people I was more unlike.
“Right. But still, this isn’t the best place in the galaxy. It’s not much better than the facility you grew up in. Everyone here is a prisoner in one way or another.”
“Well, if we left you could come with us,” Jyen said, and she looked at her brother. “We could use your help. You know so much.”
Jyen put her hand on mine and looked into my eyes with those innocent blue orbs of hers.
“I’m just used to it here. And I’m old.”
“You’re not old,” Jyen laughed.
“I’m almost 300,” I said.
“You’re being silly, now,” Jyen said, making an illegal play in the card game.
I had to think of another way of dissuading them. It apparently wasn’t going to happen via my silver tongue. If they were normal people, I could just hire some random goons to harass them until they became disenchanted. But either Jyen would fry them or Jyonal would turn their brains into delfiblinium.
Come to think of it, they were probably better equipped to deal with Belvaille than just about anyone. At least physically. Mentally and emotionally, however, they belonged in a zoo.
Belvaille was going to chew them up.
CHAPTER 24
I caught up with the rest of Garm’s tattletales, and like she said, it was no real problem taking care of them.
I didn’t even have to assault them, let alone murder any. It’s amazing how unbold some people become when asked to back up their words with action. And by action I mean getting beat up.
The guy who’d run away earlier was more of a problem. I swear he must have been in a constant state of sprint for six days. I’m not sure where he was expecting to go, but he did it well. It got to the point where I was getting eyewitness accounts that only described him as “blurry.”
But he had a home. And he had a lumpy little wife who didn’t care much for politics or positions or what her husband was trying to stand up to. She got him to come home, have a chat with me, and let me explain things. It was not a hard choice for him, really.
The bonfires had started in the meantime.
Enormous, multi-block purges of illegal goods. Whole warehouses full of stuff had been trucked out to the west and set alight.
It took everything the city had to control the blazes, and the flames were so high I bet some of the empty, adjacent apartment buildings deformed in the heat.
I stopped by just so I could say I saw it. I figured if there was any distant settlement that could see Belvaille it would have looked like a new star had entered the firmament.
They had to put the bonfires right next to some of the big filtration pumps so we all didn’t suffocate. But they could only burn things that could be burned, of course. Like, no use trying to burn weapons. You’d just end up with a street full of half-melted guns and that’s not going to fool anyone.
The fires went on around the clock. The material that didn’t get fully incinerated at one location they threw into another that was already burning, with the ashes and debris vented into space.
There were at least three main fires going at once. I saw thousands of gallons of illegal liquor get thrown on like aftershave. And you’re thinking, “Surely we could drink that?” But there wasn’t time.
Everyone had their hands full spit-polishing the city in anticipation of the Navy. I half expected crime to rise dramatically as folks got in their last shots and settled old debts before we were forced to act proper, but people were too preoccupied.
And strange as it was, there really was a kind of esprit de corps at the station. I hadn’t heard of even a scuffle breaking out.
Even Rendrae kept to his word and published lots of uplifting stories about nothing of real consequence. In exchange, I made sure Garm didn’t bother him.
Every day there were three scheduled evacuations from the airlocks. Contraband that couldn’t be destroyed was ejected at speed and would hopefully be far enough away when the ships got here they wouldn’t scan them.
It turns out our ability to hide items from detection had been grossly overestimated. We literally had square miles of illegality and only square feet that was securable. And that was parceled evenly among the bosses and probably amounted to no more than a few rooms apiece.
One of the weirdest developments of all this preparation was everyone got a new job. An official,
pleasant-sounding occupation they could tell the authorities with somewhat of a straight face.
We had to account for all these people on the station, and it would do no good to tell them you were a smuggler’s assistant or a fence when we were pretending to be upright Colmarian citizens.
Most people were given a job assigned to one of their boss’s semi-legitimate enterprises. Waitresses, bartenders, cooks, etc. I think all the bookkeepers had put their heads together to come up with this master list.
I was made a pipe refitter in official employ of the city of Belvaille itself. They even provided me a paragraph describing what I did and a pair of soiled coveralls that didn’t fit.
I had a lot of people leaving me messages that they wanted to borrow money. With the Portal closed for so long, everyone was out of cash. The loan-shark rates were through the roof. The whole economy was starting to break down and bartering for wares and services was not uncommon.
Then I got a tele from Grever Treest, the drug dealer I had used to score the mounds of chemicals for Jyonal.
“Hank, can you come over? I really need to talk.” He sounded upset. But that was the general mood nowadays. The new normal.
I didn’t especially feel like it, but hopped on the train. I was curious to see how Deadsouth was handling the news of the Navy coming.
Based on the trashy streets and junkies leaning against buildings, they were handling it like they handled anything else. I’m not even sure they knew.
Grever checked his door and let me in. His apartment’s décor had changed somewhat since I had last been over. It was now absolutely filled with drugs. Piles of the stuff stacked a foot tall. You couldn’t even see the floor.
“Hank, thanks for coming,” he said, shutting the door immediately. He was still nervous, with darting eyes, and his hair was a perpetual grease spigot.
“What are you doing with all this?” I asked. “You’re supposed to get rid of it. You don’t think the Colmarian Navy is going to notice you have a couch made out of narcotics?
“Heh, good one. Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know there’s places where we can hide stuff. But it’s just the luminaries who have access to it. They told me to shove off even when I offered to buy space.”
Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy Page 17
