Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy

by Steven Campbell

  “I’m sorry, Two Clem, this just isn’t something I do. I wish you—”

  “You will be paid handsomely if you assent.”

  “I have the invoice here,” a man spoke from behind me. If I was one to be startled, I would have been startled. I turned and saw Leeny’s bookkeeper.

  “Hey,” I said, wondering where he’d come from. This carpet, an assassin’s paradise.

  He held out a piece of paper, which I took as there was nothing else to do.

  100,000 credits.

  “You’re kidding,” I said.

  I could see he was about to break into another speech so I turned back to the bookkeeper.

  “He’s kidding, right?”

  “That is the sum allocated.”

  “This gal is on Belvaille? This station?”

  “Were that she weren’t,” the celebrity said.

  “She’s on the station?” I asked the bookkeeper.

  “I have no information on the specifics,” he responded bookkeeperly.

  “She’s on the station?” I asked the assistant, who didn’t answer or look at me. “She’s on the station? This station?” I asked Two Clem again.

  “Yes. Yes. A thousand yeses.”

  Then I got an even better idea.

  “Hey,” I asked the bookkeeper. “Could you give me a receipt after this job?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  “But could you give me a receipt for a lot more? Like, to cover some of my other work? He wouldn’t have to pay for it, just give receipts.”

  Of the many things I had to worry about, I was still bothered by what this bookkeeper had originally said. If I took the job, which was a real job—although boring—it would prove I had honest income.

  The bookkeeper looked surprised under his mask of facial hair. “That can be arranged,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “As long as the quoted price remains the same.”

  “Sure,” I said, “I’ll take the job.” I got paid significantly less than that for executing a gang boss. Unless she was cheating with Delovoa’s robot and Jyonal and Wallow, and all of them were jealous of me finding out, I was absolutely not concerned.

  “Thank you. You are my savior. My beacon.” He kneeled before me.

  I put out my hand to shake.

  “It’s okay.”

  He looked at my hand distastefully and the assistant walked over quickly and turned me towards the stairs.

  “I can get you her last contact information,” she said.

  I looked back over my shoulder and saw the celebrity standing with his hand on his hip, drinking heartily from a bottle. The bookkeeper was near him talking in a voice I couldn’t hear.

  I didn’t really need the money, especially now when I had a lot of explaining to do about what I already owned. But it’s hard to pass up good deals. It’s in our nature. Like Grever Treest buying all those drugs or even Delovoa buying what he thought was a broken robot.

  It was a little too late for social calls, but she was only five blocks away, which was like twenty grand per block walked.

  It was another converted building, but this one was made into upscale apartments. There were armed guards outside who wouldn’t let you in without a key or invitation. They even knew me and wouldn’t let me in, though they weren’t comfortable about it.

  “Look guys, I’m going in. If you shoot me, I’ll shoot you back. I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need to talk to someone.”

  A few more guards came out and they all conversed. They wore bright red, long jackets with white gloves and fancy hats. Two were pretty old. They looked a lot more used to holding open doors and carrying bags than getting into gun battles.

  “Who is it you’re coming to see, Hank?” one of the older men asked.

  Ah good, a man of reason.

  “Tejj-jo,” I said.

  “Is she home?” he asked his colleagues, and I could tell they were thinking about what to say.

  “If she’s not, I’m just going to sit up there until she comes. And send a tele out to some friends to let me know if they spot her.”

  “Do you mind if one of us comes with you?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because she will feel more comfortable with us around, I think,” he said delicately.

  Yeah, I could see that. He was a pretty smart doorman.

  “Well, the only problem is she’s going to expect you to throw me out. And when you don’t, you’re going to get fired,” I answered after much contemplation.

  The guards discussed this.

  “And you’re not here to hurt her or anything?” he asked.

  “Or rob her?” a younger guard asked.

  “Rob her?” I asked indignantly. I held up my hand in an oath pose. “I won’t even ruffle her hair.”

  The guards talked some more. I could see one of the younger guys was anxious for a fight. He was in the wrong business. The others seemed to be trying to explain the situation.

  “Can we ask what this is regarding?”

  I figured doing a little name-dropping might help.

  “I’m working for Two Clem,” I said.

  They all groaned. Some cussed. Not everyone appreciates celebrities, I guess.

  Finally, the old guard spoke.

  “She’s on the third floor, suite seven. We’ll buzz you in.”

  The inside of the building was very nice. Not too flashy.

  I was mildly worried they would lock the elevator once I was in it, but I was tired of stairs. And the smart ones probably knew I could just tele about a hundred guys to come over and kill them.

  I got to suite seven and buzzed. The door opened after a moment. I heard the peals of numerous women laughing behind the face of a truly beautiful female at the door.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “Uh, I’m looking for Tejj-jo,” I said.

  “Jo, some guy here for you,” she said, as she walked from the door.

  I figured I should take this opportunity and I entered the apartment.

  The home was wealthy. Richly appointed. Artwork and expensive furniture all over. I got the sense a gang boss lived here, or at the very least visited.

  “Hello?” said another truly beautiful woman, who walked towards me. She had extremely long auburn hair with exaggerated curls. Her figure was impressive and she wore light, flowing clothes. Even her voice was attractive. She had poise and confidence as she approached this unknown man in sandals who had entered unasked into her home.

  There were four other women in the apartment. They were apparently drinking and in high spirits. They were all absurdly good-looking. It was like some kind of model convention.

  “Hi,” I said uneasily. “I’m hoping we can talk.”

  “Well, you can go wait in the hallway first of all,” she said.

  “You tell him, Jo,” one of the women yelled and they all laughed.

  Yeah. So how was I going to do this? I thought back to how I’d dealt with Garm’s tattletales, because that’s how I didn’t want to do it.

  “I’m here from Two Clem—,” I started.

  Then the women erupted in boos and catcalls.

  “Get out of here,” Tejj-jo said angrily. “Tell him to grow up.”

  I thought for a moment as the women celebrated and Tejj-jo rejoined her friends. I walked to the door, closed it, locked it. Then turned around and faced them.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to ask you other ladies to leave. I need to speak to Tejj-jo alone, please.”

  The joviality stopped abruptly. Tejj-jo walked over to a table and picked up her tele.

  “I don’t know who the hell you are or how you got in here, but you’re about to get thrown out on your head by my security.”

  “They know I’m here and they can’t do anything about it. So put down your tele and just talk to me. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d have already been hurt. I’m just here to talk.”

  “Then why did you lock the door?” she asked, skep
tical.

  “Well, because I didn’t want you all to run out,” I said. Which was true, because I couldn’t catch them—they had some damn long legs.

  Several of the women laughed, they didn’t seem to be especially concerned.

  “You picked the wrong party to crash, mister. Do you have any idea who each of us is dating?”

  “Who?” I asked, at least thankful to be moving forward.

  They paused. I suppose that was confidential. Clearly these were not wives, but mistresses. Still, I couldn’t go around bashing their noses without a lot of blowback.

  “Well, let me tell you who I am. My name is Hank.” I waited for a response, but didn’t see one. “I’m not sure if you heard about those Dredel Led that came here. The robots. And how some guy destroyed them? I’m that guy.”

  I walked up to the couches and saw they had lost a lot of their cool.

  “I’ve worked for almost every boss on Belvaille, shot more people than I care to count, and I’m best pals with the Adjunct Overwatch. I’m bulletproof and I’ve withstood knives, bombs, fires, fists, lightning, and the angry attention of a Therezian—twice. Right now, I’m just here to talk to her,” I said, pointing at Tejj-jo.

  The room was quiet.

  “If you’re bulletproof, then you won’t mind being shot, right?” A woman took a couple steps towards me and held out the tiniest pistol in the galaxy. She might have concealed it inside her ear it was so small.

  “Nat,” one of her friends warned.

  “No, I do mind being shot. But if that’s what it will take to get this meeting…” I leaned towards the woman, putting my face mere inches from the weapon.

  That little gun was more likely to hurt her hand than even hit me. It’s almost unconscionable to sell junk like that.

  “Jo?” one of the women asked.

  “Again, I’m not here to harm anyone,” I said, my face still near the gun.

  The women were tense and you could almost see their minds flitting through an appropriate response. If these were truly gang molls, they had to know violence. A lovely face won’t protect you forever if you don’t have a survival instinct and an ability to adjust to new situations.

  “It’s okay, guys,” Tejj-jo finally said.

  The women slowly began to get up and move towards the door. The woman with the pistol, however, remained. I think she was uncertain how to get out of the situation.

  I stood up straight and smiled.

  “No hard feelings, miss.”

  On shaky legs, the woman joined her companions at the door.

  “Call us, Jo,” one of them said. “Let us know if you need anything.”

  Then they warily left the apartment.

  Tejj-jo sat on the couch, looking unperturbed. She really was quite a catch. She reminded me of Garm, just more glamorous, less twitchy, and considerably friendlier.

  “Okay, what’s this about?” she asked.

  I felt pretty silly about proceeding after all the theatrics.

  “Um. Are you seeing anyone?”

  “No, why?” she asked, eager to get on with it.

  “No one? Like, it was just you and Two Clem?”

  “Wait. Is that what this is about? He wants to know if I’m dating someone?”

  “Or if you ever did. When you were going out.”

  I couldn’t even look at her as I said it. It was just so ridiculous. He could have sent her a tele.

  “He hired you to come over here in the middle of the night, the goon that punches Dredel Led, and ask me if I’m dating?”

  I was slouching. Staring at my ugly toes.

  “Or…you know…you were,” I mumbled.

  “It’s none of his business. We broke up.” Then she must have seen my predicament and decided to capitalize on it. “Do you feel good about what you’re doing? Is this a career highlight for you?”

  “It’s just a job. I need receipts.”

  “What?” she shouted.

  She stood up and was in front of me now.

  “Tell Two Clem he’s a spineless, self-important fop who was a waste of my time.”

  I was about to respond that I’m not a messenger, but I realized I was.

  “Why should I tell you, anyway?” she asked.

  My instinct was to go all Hank on her and get belligerent. But this was a tough woman. That play wouldn’t go over well.

  “Well, because he deserves to know,” I said quietly.

  “Do you even know him?”

  “No, but I don’t have to,” I reasoned.

  “He must have cheated on me fifty times or more when we were seeing each other. And now, weeks later, he’s worried about what I did?”

  This. Blew. I couldn’t punch or shoot my way out of this. I felt crappy. And no resolution was going to be satisfactory. I promised myself I’d never do a job like this again.

  “Well, wouldn’t you want to know if he cheated?”

  “I already knew. It’s not like he was subtle.”

  My decades of experience talking to criminals and making deals seemed to offer no insights whatsoever when it came to this. Relationships were so much harder than business. Because as personal as a case of liquor was, it’s absolutely nothing compared to the illogical world of infatuation.

  “Could you tell me…for me?” I asked.

  “I’ve never even met you.”

  “I saved your life. Indirectly. When I fought those robots. Ended up in the hospital for ages.”

  “I’m sure you had other reasons than just saving me.”

  I looked at her directly now.

  “No. That was pretty much it. Saving this station. I wasn’t keen on the job.”

  She sighed, meeting my gaze.

  “I waited until we broke up. I dated someone. It didn’t last. There. Happy?”

  I thought for a bit. Was that it? Was that collection of words worth a hundred grand? Did she have to make a written statement?

  “Uh, yeah, I guess that’s it. Sorry to bother you.”

  I walked to the door and opened it.

  “Hey. Are you really bulletproof?” she asked.

  I turned back and she had an expression that made me uncomfortable.

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled with lazy eyes and I left the building before she could test my claim.

  CHAPTER 32

  A week later I was at an empty casino table enjoying a drink when a bored security guard I know named Calliman came by. He ran security for the casino, so he could take breaks when he wanted.

  “Whatcha got there, Hank?” he said, leaning against the table.

  “Receipts.” I had an ear-to-ear grin as I flipped through them.

  “What for?” He was intrigued by my enthusiasm.

  “My life. Look, it’s all here.”

  He sat down and looked through the folder. Truly my receipts were one of the coolest things I’d ever seen. The bookkeeper had done an unbelievable job. The countless columns and ledgers and data were absolutely fascinating. It was like a whole imaginary existence put down in numbers.

  “But what are they for?” he asked, not understanding.

  “Are you dumb? We’re going to get audited when the military gets here. They’re going to want to see receipts for work we did in the past.”

  “They already gave me a phony job to use. I’m a dock worker,” Calliman said.

  “But where’s your receipts? You been here years, you got no receipts. Me?” And I patted the papers proudly. “These go back twenty-eight years. I can just say I lost the rest. How long can they expect me to keep them?”

  Another security guard came by, yawning. He held a cup of coffee.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Receipts,” Calliman said absently, his nose deep in them.

  “What kind?” asked the guard, and he leaned over to get a better look.

  I saw the liquid tilting in the coffee cup and I pushed him back angrily.

  “Watch it. You know what these a
re worth?”

  “Easy, I wasn’t going to steal them,” the guard said, annoyed.

  “Hey, you need to check these out. It’s pretty wild stuff,” Calliman said, as absorbed in the documents as I had been.

  “Put your coffee over there first,” I warned.

  Another guard had come by and pretty soon all of them were admiring the work.

  “Don’t bend it,” one cautioned.

  “Hank, it says here you pay taxes, too.”

  “Really?” I hadn’t seen that. In fact, I hadn’t really been able to understand much of the receipts at all. But there it was.

  “They just gave me a hammer and told me to say I work on the ventilation. Where can I get some receipts?” Calliman asked.

  “They’re not just blowing around on the street,” I said sagely. “You need to talk to the right people.”

  Calliman laid the documents out in interconnecting pyramids to try and understand them.

  “You could hide so much money, Hank. Millions.”

  I smiled proudly.

  “Hey, can I give you some money to hold? Just until the cops leave.”

  “Me too.”

  “I don’t think that’s something I want to get into. Besides, there’s plenty of moneylenders here. I’m sure they could do it.”

  “But they’re going to want big bucks. And then there’s the juice they’ll add on top. I’ll pay you,” the guard added quickly.

  “Let me think about it,” I said, delicately gathering my papers. “But if you tele me tomorrow, I might be able to give you the names of some bookkeepers who can help you out. I got to ask them if they want the business first.”

  They all thanked me.

  After I returned my receipts to their protective folder, I finished my drink and headed for the train. At first I thought I had spent more time inside than I’d realized. I looked up and the latticework lights were definitely dimming, signaling it was Belvaille’s version of nighttime.

  Around me, people were all looking up as well. Was it a power problem? We’ve had issues with the lights in the past. We’ve had whole sections go out completely but never the entire latticework.

  People were exiting the casino and buildings all up the block, staring at the roof of our city. The lights were gradually getting darker and darker and darker.