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 snatched 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."