Faded Steel Heat

by Glen Cook

  “They’d just hit you somewhere else. Then you might get hurt.”

  “You always see the bright side, darling.”

  “I try. You could find some other way to waste your life. I bet there’re all kinds of careers where you don’t have to deal with people who try to break your bones.”

  Oh-oh. “I’d better see the old man again. Tom might’ve been on that wagon.”

  Oh, did she give me a scary look. What a lowlife, subject-changing sewer rat that Garrett is!

  Some things we’ll never resolve.

  40

  I didn’t think before I burst into Weider’s study. I’d never encountered any reason to excuse myself around the Weider place before, little time though I spent there.

  I plunged into a silence so sudden it was like the stillness after a thunderclap. Numerous pairs of eyes measured me. Marengo North English appeared to be conducting a summit of the chiefs of every nut group in TunFaire. Every rightsist nut group. I didn’t see any democrats or round-earthers.

  Belinda sat slightly behind North English and to his right, partially shadowed. The flicker of the fire in the fireplace lent her face a diabolic cast. Even that freecorps psycho thug Bondurant Altoona appeared to be intimidated.

  Until you experienced it you wouldn’t believe that a woman this young and attractive could come across so threatening. But no one in that room doubted her capacity for launching major mayhem.

  I glanced around. “Where’s Max?” Cool. Like I butted in on these things all the time. “It’s critical.”

  I could manage without him. But his son was in deep sludge. He ought to know. He needed a say.

  After a startled moment North English pasted on his paternalistic smile, told me, “Max just stepped out to confer with Manvil. Gentlemen. This is the Garrett fellow Miss Contague recommended. Mr. Garrett, won’t you join us now that you’re here? I’m sure Max will return directly.”

  I engaged in a brief internal debate, decided I ought to find out what gave. It was too late to run that wagon down now, anyway. It could be anywhere in any direction.

  I moved a couple of steps into the room, studied the men studying me. A prime lot of political blackguards. Not one was in any danger from the nonhuman side of the community. Those who weren’t wealthy, like Arnes Mingle and Bondurant Altoona, had large bands of armed rowdies at their beck. Cynical me, I wondered if The Call wasn’t just a device meant to separate my nonhuman countrymen from their wealth and community standing.

  North English said, “Garrett, these gentlemen and I, though separated by points of doctrine, all reside in the same ideological camp. Inasmuch as we were all here we thought it might be provident to pool our thoughts concerning these puzzles that have arisen.”

  Why tell me?

  “We’ve discovered that none of us is responsible for the attempts to embarrass the Weiders. Max may not support our views but he’s a friend to every man here.” Before I could suppress my cynicism and respond, he continued, “Earlier you observed that none of us can be sure we know about everything happening in our organizations. That’s true. But we’re agreed that none of us would ever turn on Max.”

  Belinda’s nod was barely perceptible. She had witnessed the discussion.

  North English forged ahead. “You said the villains responsible call themselves Black Dragon Valsung.” That was not a question so I didn’t respond. “None of us knows of any such group. Nor of a Colonel Norton. We’ve agreed to start looking into that immediately. The group could give our movement a bad name.”

  I kept my expression bland. “They aren’t imaginary,” I said. “Several are in the house right now. I came to tell Max that they’ve kidnapped his son Tom.”

  Murmurs. “Looney” and “mad” stood out. They knew about Tom.

  I offered a sketch of my collisions with Carter, Trace, and the guys in the stable. I avoided sounding antipathetic toward rightsist philosophy.

  Weider and a bodyguard blew into the room. The sounds of the revels below came with them. The festivities were in full swing.

  “Garrett! Damn! There you are! We found Tom.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Alyx. He’s all right. He was wandering around in the kitchen, getting in everybody’s way.”

  I frowned, stared at Weider. He was so obviously relieved.

  I wasn’t. Something wasn’t right.

  Something hadn’t been right from the beginning but I couldn’t pin it down. “Are Ty and Kittyjo all right?”

  “Ty’s still holding court. I haven’t seen Kittyjo. She’s sneaking around like a commando. Nobody sees her for more than a few seconds at a time.”

  Why did somebody knock me over the head?

  Gilbey pushed through the doorway. He had Tom Weider in tow. Tinnie was a few steps behind them. Gilbey said, “I have him under control now, Max. I’ll take him upstairs. Luke will stay with him.”

  Something odd... “When did he change clothes?”

  Everyone stared at me. I said, “He was wearing different clothes a little while ago.”

  For an instant Tom raised his eyes to look at me, something he’d never done before. It was so fleeting I wasn’t sure he’d actually done it. Might’ve been just a twitch.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” And Alyx could back me up.

  “I’ll check it out when we get upstairs,” Gilbey said.

  I started to leave so I could help him. I was sure the baddies were still around and still had plans. Marengo North English said, “Would you stay with us a moment more, Mr. Garrett?”

  How could I resist when he offered the honorific to a man of my low station?

  41

  I shut the door behind Weider reluctantly. Old Max left me a meaningful look as he departed. I turned to the assembled barons of bug-fuckery. They stared like they expected me to begin belching green fire. I stared like I expected them to spout something incredibly bigoted and stupid. Finally, North English said, “Max tells me that you’re very good at what you do.”

  “I try hard, anyway.”

  “He also insists that you’re sympathetic to our goals.”

  Remotely. “I believe I’ve mentioned that myself.” I inclined my head slightly so I couldn’t be convicted when times changed later.

  “Then why haven’t you joined one of the rights groups?”

  “I’m not a joiner. Unless you count the Marine Corps. And I wasn’t offered my preference that time. When I do have a choice I make my own. That’s why I’m in the racket I’m in. It lets me be my own boss.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Huh?” Often I hide my razor wits so guys like North English will underestimate me.

  This wasn’t one of those times.

  “You appear to be the perfect man to winkle out the truth about these Black Dragon people.”

  Why not? I was working for everybody but the Crown Prince of Venageta already. Maybe I could get in with Black Dragon, convince Carter and Trace that I regretted my past transgressions and they ought to hire me to find out what that guy Garrett was up to. I knew a guy once, Pokey Pigotta, who used so many disguises and aliases that he did get hired to investigate himself.

  “Garrett?”

  “Uh? Oh. Yeah. Sounds good, we can work out the financial details. I’ve got some bones to pick with those guys.” I caressed the back of my head. I’ve been getting bopped way too often lately.

  “Financial details?”

  “Even us idealists don’t get much nutritional value out of serving a righteous cause.”

  North English scowled and muttered. He was a notorious skinflint.

  Bondurant Altoona suggested, “Pay the man and get on with it. You pinch sceats till the King squeals but put out his ransom in silver for —”

  “You’re right, of course!” North English barked, silencing Altoona. “It would be petty of me to quibble over a few coppers.” He yanked a purse from inside his waistband, tossed it at me.

  I snatch
ed it out of the air deftly. A few coppers, eh? I started to tuck the bag into an inside pocket of my waistcoat.

  North English squawked. The Goddamn Parrot would have complimented him on his accent. His companions grinned. It didn’t look like he had many close friends among his own kind. He grouched, “I expect you to take only what you need to compensate yourself for your labors.”

  “A guy’s got to try.” The grins got bigger when I opened the purse.

  My eyes got bigger, too. What I’d assumed to be a rich man’s walking-around sack of coppers, which might include a silver piece or two in case he ran into something really exciting, turned out to be all silver salted with a few pieces of gold. Swiftly I calculated ten days’ fees and likely expenses, tripled them and applied my special unpleasant crackpot counter-discount. North English didn’t see what I took but he danced like a kid with a desperate need to pee. Silver still isn’t cheap, despite our triumph in the Cantard.

  There were whispers among the others, some intentionally loud. Bets were laid as to whether or not North English would follow through.

  To make sure I added several silver groats in case I ran into some big meal expenses, like, say, with a particular redhead while we were doing research, then passed the bag back. Eyes watched eagerly, hoping North English would open it up and reintroduce himself to all the survivors and mourn the departed.

  He resisted temptation. “I’ll leave your name with my gateman, Mr. Garrett. He’ll have you brought to me immediately if you have anything to report.”

  Just a glance at the rest of the room told me North English had numerous “friends” perfectly willing to pay nicely for an opportunity to learn what I discovered before I reported it to the man who had hired me.

  North English told me, “That should be all for now, Mr. Garrett.” Embarrassed, he didn’t take time to offer specific instructions. Fine. I like it like that. Means they haven’t told me what not to do, where not to poke.

  Excellent.

  I backed out of there.

  Weider and his bodyguard were waiting. The old man asked, “What’re they up to in there?”

  “You’d know better than me. They’re your friends.”

  “Only a few. North English and Clive. Faudie and Slink. They asked me to invite the others. They subsidized expenses. They wanted to get all the names in the rights movement together where they wouldn’t attract much attention. I get along where I can. It oils the hinges when I want something myself.”

  “Favor for a favor. I understand.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded toward Tinnie. “I’m all right. We’ll all be all right now. You and your friend go have fun.”

  “Thank you.” I headed for Tinnie. But I wasn’t about to take time off now.

  42

  Let me sip a few pints of Weider dark reserve and I turn into a dancing fool. I made all the girls unhappy. I danced with them all. Tinnie got the most attention but simmered when I took a turn with Alyx or Nicks or Kittyjo — once, guardedly. I even spun a couple with the matron who had fallen in lust with me earlier. She told me she was Dame Tinstall. That rang no bells. Dame Tinstall had outstanding legs for a woman of her maturity. She made sure I noticed them, too.

  Alyx was less pleased than Tinnie. Nicks was too friendly for a girl getting engaged, though she didn’t mention her feelings about that. Kittyjo, who looked like a shopworn version of Alyx, had little to say — good, bad, or indifferent. She did seem willing to let bygones be bygones. And Dame Tinstall left me in no doubt that she wanted to tuck me under her arm and take me home. I didn’t ask what her husband would think of her plan.

  I took the occasional timeout to nurture my relationship with the boss’s product. I’m a very loyal kind of guy.

  I wondered what had become of the Goddamn Parrot.

  “What’s the matter?” Tinnie asked.

  “Something’s wrong with me. I’m worrying about that damned talking ostrich of mine. Have you seen him?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t claim him right now. If I were you.” She had her devil smile on.

  “How come?”

  “He got thrown out of the house. You’re lucky nobody remembers who he arrived with.”

  “I hope the owls get him.” He’d asked for it.

  The majordomo, Genord, who hadn’t had a chance to yell much lately, approached us. He bypassed Alyx and Kittyjo. Alyx appeared incapable of harboring a kind thought about her big sister. Kittyjo, though, seemed only about half-alive and was completely indifferent to Alyx.

  The majordomo handed me a folded scrap of paper. It had been used and reused. “A gentleman sent this in,” he husked. “He said it was important.”

  Tinnie scowled, sensing more trouble. I feared she was psychic. Just when the evening was starting to roll, too. But that was my kind of luck. Wasn’t it? “Thank you, Gerris.”

  The note said: Must see you now. Critical. R. The handwriting was primitive.

  R? Who or what might R be? Who would know where to find me tonight? Relway? Who else? And didn’t that stir up the mixed feelings?

  “Now what?” Tinnie demanded, her psychic side simmering.

  “I don’t know. But I can’t ignore it.”

  “Right now?”

  “Maybe sooner.” It would be significant. I didn’t doubt that. Relway wouldn’t contact me unless it really did matter.

  “You’re going to ditch your date?”

  “What? Oh. Damn. No. I shouldn’t be gone long. And she isn’t a date, Tinnie.”

  “Maybe not. But I see how she looks at you when you’re not paying attention. Like she wants to devour you.”

  “Kind of like I look at you even when you are paying attention?”

  The ghost of a smile twitched the corners of Tinnie’s mouth. “Right, Garrett. Try that line when I have time to notice. All right. I’ll tell her why you ran out.”

  “Huh?” That didn’t sound promising.

  “I know you. You’ll go out there and either get yourself knocked over the head and dragged off or you’ll get interested in something and forget everything else or there’ll be a pretty girl and your pig-dog nature will take over and —”

  “You wound me, woman. Now that you acknowledge my existence again how can I possibly stay away more than minutes at a time?”

  “I’m wearing new shoes, Garrett. Specially made. Don’t pile it up too deep.”

  “And they’re the most amazing shade of green I’ve ever seen. They set off your eyes perfectly.” Maybe I didn’t need to find out what Relway wanted. Not tonight, anyway.

  I looked into Tinnie’s eyes for a few long seconds. No. I definitely didn’t want to find out what Relway had.

  Her devil smile wakened. “Go on. Take care of it. Then get your big goofy self back in here. We’ll see if maybe this threat to the Weiders doesn’t require you to stay all night so everybody is protected.”

  Whoo-hoo! I moved out with a real bounce to my step.

  “Mr. Garrett! Mr. Garrett!”

  “Yes, Mr. Gresser?”

  “Two more of my men have deserted. What am I supposed to do? How can I manage?”

  Why me? Maybe Gilbey and Genord were fleeter of foot. “I’m here to handle gate-crashers and bad boys, Gresser, not to make sure Mr. Weider’s guests are well served. You’re the professional. Surely you know your business better than I. Why not grab a tray yourself?” I pushed past him.

  I almost made it before Alyx caught up. She pushed up close, radiating availability. “Where’re you going, Garrett?” She looked so damned kissable I had to bite my tongue. Why is it always feast when I can’t do anything about it and famine when I can?

  “I’ve had an emergency message, kid. I’ve got to go out for a few minutes. But I’ll be right back.” I glanced back to see if Tinnie was scowling. I didn’t see her.

  I did see Kittyjo watching from a shadow thirty feet away. She didn’t look nostalgic for the good old days when we’d been very close friends till she changed her mind. She d
id look troubled. I winked at Alyx and headed for the door.

  Maybe Kittyjo would warn her off me. That would be useful. I don’t deal well with temptation.

  Morley has a personal rule he recommends often: Yield to temptation whenever you can because every opportunity might be your last. I don’t subscribe to that completely. Yielding could bring on the lastness. But I’m weak when blonds, brunettes, or redheads are part of the temptation.

  On the other hand, a good rule of thumb would be: Never get involved with a woman crazier than you are. The trick there is to recognize the craziness before you get pulled in. Some hide it well. Kittyjo did.

  As I departed a raw-throated Gerris Genord began to croak for attention. It was time Ty and Nicks made their announcement.

  43

  I stopped to see the security guys out front. They knew me. I told them I’d be right back. I stepped into the street, watching for the Goddamn Parrot as well as whoever wanted to see me. I didn’t expect Relway himself. Relway prefers to stay out of sight. But the little guy emerged from the darkness like a whispering ghost. I squeaked, “You startled me.”

  “Sorry.” Like hell. He smirked. “Sorry about interrupting your evening, too. But you have to see this.”

  “It’s big enough to bring you out personally?”

  “I’m here because every player in the rights game is here. That’s significant. Something I have to look over with my very own eyes.”

  I wondered if he had people inside. I wondered again, aloud, as we walked. I got only silence in response. Which was answer enough for me. It was likely that several of Gresser’s workers were secret police. Poor Mr. Gresser.

  “It’s quiet tonight,” I observed. That wasn’t a good sign, really. Not in TunFaire, where, by day or by night, completely quiet streets generally mean big trouble.

  “Very.”

  The silence deepened as we walked.

  The flicker of torchlight shone around a corner. We had walked only a few blocks, to the far side of the brewery. The torchlight had no noise attached. No excitement. We weren’t headed toward a street party or toward a riot.