M.Y.T.H. Inc in Action

by Robert Asprin

  “I ... I can’t go back there,” he manages to repeat, finally.

  “Good. Then it’s settled.” Don Bruce is suddenly friendly again. “Now why don’t you go ahead and take that walk . . . and by the way ...”

  The Deveel turns to find the Don starin’ at him real hard-like.

  “... Remember what I said ... I got ears in a lot of places. If you start runnin’ off at the mouth, or do anything to give Skeeve, Miss Tananda, or the boys here any grief, I’ll hear about it. Remember that. Now, get outta here.”

  Frumple slinks off, and as soon as he’s gone. Don Bruce jerks his head at the goons.

  “You boys take a walk, too,” he sez. “What we got to talk about is private . . . and Snake?”

  “Yes, Boss?”

  “Keep an eye on that joker, will you? Make sure he doesn’t talk to anyone . . . ‘cause if he tries, I’m afraid he might have a little accident. Know what I mean?”

  “Got it, Boss,” Snake says, and follows the others out into the night.

  “Well, boys,” Don Bruce sez, turnin’ to us at last. “Now that we’re alone, I think it’s about time we had us a little talk.”

  He is real friendly as he says this, but as you yourselves can see from the preceedin’ incident with Frumple, this is not as reassurin’ as it would appear. It occurs to me that I would not like to sit in on a Dragon Poker game with Don Bruce, as he would doubtless make you a friendly loan so’s you could keep playin’ while at the same time havin’ a whole extra deck of cards hidden in his lap.

  “Miss Tananda here was just tellin’ me about your current operation . . .”

  “That’s right,” Tananda sez. “Don Bruce didn’t . . .”

  . . . and realizing, as you have just heard, that I pride myself in being informed” the Don continues, talkin’ right over Tananda . . . which is a bad sign, “it was a little embarrassing to have to admit my ignorance until your little friend came to me this evening for help. Now, what I want to know is . . .”

  “What are you doing operating in the kingdom of Possiltum . . . especially considering the agreement we made?”

  “Agreement?” Tananda sez in a small voice.

  “That’s right,” Don Bruce sez, turnin’ to her. “You weren’t around at the time, but way back when I first met Skeeve, we made a deal and I gave him my personal word that the Mob wouldn’t move on the kingdom of Possiltum.”

  “But what does that ...”

  “... and since Skeeve . . . and through him, all of you . . . are now on the Mob’s payroll as employees, your presence here is breakin’ my word. Capish?”

  “I see,” Tananda sez, glancin’ over at us with new understandin’. “But tell me, Don Bruce, if the Mob isn’t operating in this kingdom, then what are you doing taking protection money from merchants like Frumple? In fact, what are you doing here at all?”

  This is a good question, and one which has not occurred to me . . . though I suspect I know the answer. The Don has enough grace to look a little embarrassed, though, when he gives it.

  “All this is from before I gave my word,” he sez. “I never said we was going to give up the operations we already had in place.”

  “Hmmm ...” Tananda frowns, “it sounds like a pretty fine distinction to me.”

  Of course, the Mob makes a lot of money from such fine distinctions . . . but this does not seem like the time to bring it up.

  “That may be,” Don Bruce sez, his voice hardenin’ up again. “But it’s beside the point. I’m still waiting to hear what you’re doing here!”

  “Oh that,” Tananda smiles. “Well, you see . . . umm . . .”

  Though Tananda is no slouch at Dragon Poker and is actin’ very confident, I can see she is stuck and trying to bluff.

  “Relax, Tananda,” Nunzio sez, speakin’ for the first time since we came in. “I can explain it.”

  “You can?” I sez, slippin’ a bit in my surprise.

  “Sure,” my cousin insists, lookin’ at me hard like he does when I’m supposed to be ready to provide him with an alibi.

  “All right, Nunzio,” Don Bruce sez, settlin’ back against the bar, “start talking.”

  “Well, you see, Don Bruce,” Nunzio sez, “the Boss is unhappy with the agreement you referenced regarding the Mob’s relationship with Possiltum.”

  “Oh he is, is he?” the Don snarls, but Nunzio holds up a hand and continues.

  “The way it is.” he sez, “is the Boss figures that circumstances have arisen which neither of you took into account in the original negotiation . . . specifically, the new expansion policy that’s pushing the borders out.”

  “Go on,” Don Bruce sez, but he’s nodding now.

  “The spirit of your agreement was that the Mob wouldn’t infringe on the kingdom’s territory, but the way if s going, the kingdom is pushing into the Mob’s territory. What’s more, the letter of your agreement is keeping the Mob from protecting what’s ours.”

  “So I noticed,” the Don sez, sarcastic-Iike.

  “Now, the Boss doesn’t think this is right. What’s more, he feels personally responsible since it was his sloppy negotiating for the kingdom that has placed you in this predicament. The problem is that as he is now working for the Mob and not for the kingdom, he is not in a position to renegotiate the terms to make things right again.”

  “Yeah,” Don Bruce sez thoughtful-like, “I can see that.”

  “Now, you may not know it, Don Bruce,” Nunzio continues, “but the Boss thinks the world of you and would never do anything to hurt you or your reputation. Because of this, and because he feels responsible for your current difficulties, he has taken it upon himself to correct the situation by mounting a covert operation to halt the kingdom’s expansion. In fact, the reason he has been keeping this secret from you is for a little extra insurance. This way, if anything goes wrong, you can swear under oath that you knew nothing about it, and certainly never took a hand or gave an order against Possiltum. What he’s doing, Don Bruce, is setting himself up to be a scapegoat . . . all to take the pressure off you!”

  While I am occasionally less than complimentary when referrin’ to Nunzio’s long-winded tendencies, there are times when I am truly grateful for his talent for shovelin’ . . . like now. Even bein’ as aware as I am of the truth of the matter, that the Boss has probably overlooked his agreement with Don Bruce completely when givin’ us this assignment, I am not sure I could separate fact from guff in my cousin’s rendition, even with the aid of a pry bar.

  “That Skeeve!” Don Bruce laughs, hittin’ the bar with his fist in his enthusiasm. “Can you see why I love him? He’s really trying to do all this on his own . . . just for me? I’ll tell you, boys ...”

  He glances around, then hunches forward before continuin’.

  “You have no idea how much grief the other Mob bosses have been giving me because of that agreement. Especially the boss of the Island Mob.”

  “You mean Don Ho?” I sez.

  “That’s right,” Don Bruce nods. “Even the boss of the senior citizens’ Mob . . . Don Amechie! They’ve all been on my case. I’m just surprised that Skeeve was aware of it. I keep telling you, that boy’s got real promise. You know what an organization as big as ours needs the most?”

  “Leadership,” Nunzio and me answer at the same time.

  “Lead . . . Hey! That’s right!” the Don sez, blinkin’ at us in surprise. “You know, you boys have been shaping up pretty well yourselves since you started working for Skeeve. Maybe I should start giving some thought to setting you up with your own operations.”

  It occurs to me that this promotion thing is gettin’ totally out of hand.

  “Ummm . . . We’re pretty happy with things the way they are, Don Bruce.” I sez, quick-like.

  “Yeah,” Nunzio chimes in. “We figure the way things are going, the Boss is gonna need all the help we can give him.”

  “Hmmm ... I suppose you’re right,” the Don sez, makin’ us both a little unco
mfortable with how unwillin’ he seems to give up the idea of advancin’ us in the ranks. “Tell you what, though, like Skeeve says, I can’t take an open hand in this thing you got going, but if you want I can assign a few boys to give you a hand!”

  A picture flits across my mind. A picture of me tryin’ to sleep, much less operate, with Snake loiterin’ about in the near vicinity.

  “I ... don’t think so,” I sez. “we’re pretty used to workin’ with the crew we got already. Besides, any of the boys you assigned to us would have to enlist . . . and there’s no guarantee where they’d get assigned.”

  “... And most of them would quit before they’d be seen in public in those outfits you’re wearing,” Don Bruce laughs, winkin’ at Tananda. “Yeah. You got a point.”

  Me and Nunzio force smiles, which is as close as we can manage to joining in the merriment.

  “Well, be sure to let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “Sure, Don Bruce.”

  “Thanks, Don Bruce.”

  “Oh yeah! One more thing. How’s Bunny doing?”

  “Bunny?” Tananda sez, comin’ off the bar like a prizefighter. “That little ...”

  “Sure! You remember Bunny,” I interrupts quicklike. “Don Bruce’s niece who’s workin’ with us?”

  “Oh! Right!” Tananda blinks, and settles back again. “She’s working out real well, Don Bruce,” Nunzio supplies hurriedly. “In fact, right now she’s holding down our office while we’re out in the field.”

  “Yeah, right,” Don Bruce waves. “But how is she getting along with Skeeve?”

  Even though we can maybe snow him from time to time, the Don is pretty quick, and he catches our hesitation and glances at Tananda.

  “Say . . . you aren’t interested in Skeeve yourself, are you. Miss Tananda?”

  Tananda thinks for a second, then wrinkles her nose.

  “Not really,” she sez. “I guess he’s kind of like a kid brother to me.”

  “I see,” Don Bruce nods. “Well, as a favor to me, could you take Bunny under your wing, too? She likes to talk tough and comes on like she’s real experienced and worldly, but inside she’s still just a kid. Know what I mean?”

  In response, Tananda just nods slow-like. To my eye, she seems less than thrilled with the idea . . . especially after hearin’ how serious Don Bruce takes promises.

  “You know how the Boss is when it comes to dames,” I sez, quick-like. “Slower’n a bail bondsman what’s been stung three times runnin’.”

  I am tryin’ to draw attention away from Tananda, but the Don is ignorin’ me and starin’ at her instead.

  “Say . . . are you okay?” he sez, misreadin’ her signals. “It looks like you’ve been takin’ more than your share of lumps in this operation.”

  “I’m just a little tired,” she sez, flashin’ a quick smile. “You’re right, though. I’m not getting any younger, and I’m not sure how many more nights like this I can take.”

  “Why don’t you head on back to Big Julie’s and hook up with Chumley?” I sez. “We’re gettin’ transferred out of here, and there’s not much you’ll be able to do on your own realizin’ the shape you’re in.”

  ‘Transferred?”

  “That’s right,” Nunzio sez. “We’ve been promoted and transferred to headquarters. It seems the Mob isn’t the only ones who can spot leadership potential.”

  As an indication of the physical and nervous stress of the night we have been through, I do not have the energy to even think about throttiin’ him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “An army travels on its paperwork!”

  J. Carlson

  “WELL, SERGEANT GUIDO, you and your squad come highly recommended. Yes, highly recommended indeed!”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Okay, so I am layin’ it on a little thick. Considerin’ the number of officers I’m seein’ here at headquarters, however, it seems like the wisest attitude for an enlisted type like me to assume . . . which is to say one step up from grovelin’.

  “Well,” he sez, settin’ our files to one side and startin’ to rummage through the other stacks of paper on his desk, “let’s see what we can find for you in the way of assignments.”

  Actually, I would be surprised if he can find his feet in this office. It has only been a few times that I have seen so much paper stuffed into as little space as there is in this office . . . and most of the other times was in the offices I poked into while lookin’ for this one. There is paper stacked everywhere, on the chairs and on the floor, on the window ledges and on the tops of file cabinets . . . not to mention the stacks set on the top of already filed paper in the open drawers of said cabinets. There are also, of course, assorted piles of paper on the desktop of the officer I am speakin’ to, and it is through these stacks he is currently rummagin’.

  “Ah! Here’s something,” he sez, pausin’ to peer at one of the sheets he has been rifflin’ through. “What would you say to my assigning you and your crew as sanitation engineers.”

  “As what?”

  “You know.” he sez, “digging and filling latrines.”

  It occurs to me that while there might be some potential for disruptin’ the army from such a position, it is not a route I would be particularly eager to take. You see, Nunzio still ribs me about my work with the Realistic Doggie Doodle with Lifelike Aroma that Actually Sticks to Your Hands on my last assignment for M.Y.T.H. Inc., and I would therefore prefer to avoid workin’ with variations on the real thing this time around.

  “It sounds like a stinkin’ detail . . . sir,” I sez, the words sort of slippin’ out.

  I try to recover by addin’ “. . . if you’ll forgive the play on words . . . sir.”

  That’s so he’ll know I read.

  I expect him to get a bit upset at my forthrightness, but instead he just gives a little shrug.

  “Of course it is,” he sez with refreshin’ honesty. “But remember where you are, Sergeant. This is Headquarters . . . the brains of the army. It only stands to reason that most of that brain power is devoted to finding nicer, cushier assignments for the owners of those brains . . . which is to say the place is armpit deep in politics ... if I make myself clear.”

  “Not really, sir.”

  The officer sighs.

  “Let me try to explain it this way. Here, everybody knows somebody, and uses their connections to get the best jobs. The higher the connections, the better the jobs. You and your squad, on the other hand, have just arrived and consequently know nobody . . . which means that for a while, you’ll have to content yourselves with the jobs no one else wants. I expect that as you make connections, you’ll get better duties, but for the time being that’s the way it is.”

  I consider mentionin’ my connections with the Mob, but decide they will be of little value in this circumstantial and may even be construed as a threat. Then something else occurs to me.

  “Is General Badaxe available, sir?”

  This gets the officer’s attention.

  “You know General Badaxe?” he sez from under sky-high eyebrows.

  “Not to any great extent, sir.” I admit. “We just met once in passin’.”

  “Oh. Well, he is here at Headquarters, of course. I think you’ll find that he’s indisposed, however ... at least he has been for the last couple of weeks.”

  “Would that indisposition by any chance be female, sir? Extra, extra large . . . a lot of makeup and jewelry?”

  This earns me a lot harder look from the officer before he answers.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” he sez at last. “You seem remarkably well informed for someone who has just arrived at Headquarters ... or do you’ know the . . . young lady as well?”

  For several reasons I figure it would be wisest not to admit the true relationship Nunzio and me has with Massha.

  “She was with the general when I met him at court, sir,” I sez, sorta truthfully.

  “You’ve been
to the Royal Court?”

  “Yes sir ... but it was a while back . . . just before the king married Queen Hemlock.”

  “I see,” the officer sez, thoughtful-like, then sets the paper he was holdin’ aside and starts rummagin’ again.

  “Well in that case, perhaps I can find something a bit more pleasant in the way of an assignment.”

  “Take your time sir,” I sez. “I can understand how things can be a bit disorganized with the general gone so much.”

  “Not really,” the officer sez, absentminded-like. “If anything, they’re going smoother.”

  “Excuse me? . . . sir?”

  “What? Oh,” he sez, returnin’ his concentration to the situational at hand. “Well, I probably shouldn’t say anything, but since you already know some of the personalities involved ...”

  He pauses to glance around like someone might be loiterin’ among the stacks of paper . . . which considerin’ their height is a real possibility.

  “If you know General Badaxe, then you probably already know that while he is a more than adequate leader, he is rather inflexible in his attitudes as to how things should be done. That is, he wants things done his way, whether there is a better way of doing things or not.”

  This description sounds like everyone in the army I’ve met above the rank of corporal, but I content myself with noddin’ in agreement.

  “Well, a lot of us officers who came on board during the current expansion drive originally served under Big Julie back when he led the invasion of Possiltum. In some ways it’s nice because it guaranteed us rank in the Possiltum army, but it also means we know there are other ways of doing things than the way General Badaxe wants . . . lots better ways. The trouble is, until now we haven’t been able to implement any changes or improvements without disobeying orders from the general.”

  “And now?” I urge, not even botherin’ to add a “sir” to it.

  “Now, with the general ‘indisposed,’” the officer smiles, gettin’ a little lost in his own thoughts, “we’re left pretty much on our own, Which means we get to do things our way for a change. If Badaxe stays out of our hair for another few weeks, we should have this army whipped into shape so we can really get down to business. I’ll tell you, serving under Big Julie might have been a pain from time to time, but that man sure knows how to run an army. I wonder how he’s doing now that he’s retired?”