Boy, that dame could jaw. Most of my mind had drifted to old romantic interests over the time she dealt her spiel. The remainder still paid attention, though.
I nodded in a thoughtful manner. "So your boss wants me to get some stolen goods back. Ok, I get it. 'Substantial amount' is a kinda vague term, though. You're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna pique my interest, sweetheart."
Her distractingly seductive lips curved in a ‘gotcha’ kind of smile. "Very well, Mr. Trubble. For return of said property, the individual I represent is willing to pay the sum of one million dibs. The payment is custodian. In your account upon your agreement, and released when the job is finished."
If heaven had poured honey in my ears, the sound couldn't have been sweeter. Without a decent case in months, I’d been down on my uppers and owed a few pretty pennies to a few dirty chumps. I was so euphoric that I didn't even hear the alarms going off in my head.
I poured another shot of Jack in celebration.
"Well, I must say that sounds like a desperate individual you represent, Ms. Kilby. But I'm feeling pretty damn gracious today, so I'll take the gig. I think you'd do best to drop all this 'individual' talk and let me know who's got this property, and where exactly I can find him."
"Finding him won't be the problem, Mr. Trubble. I'm sure you've heard of him if you're as well informed as I believe you are. You may know him better by his street moniker. He's called Tommy. Tommy Tsunami."
The sharp crack was overly loud in the accompanying silence. I looked at the remnants of the shot glass that had shattered in my hand. The liquor and blood ran freely together, spattering on my desktop in a Rorschach pattern. Oddly detached, I thought I saw my future in those red-gold blots.
It didn't look pretty.
Chapter 2: When It Rains
“Why Mr. Trubble, are you all right?” Ms. Kilby raised an eyebrow as if I wasn’t dripping blood all over my desk. “Poddar, why don’t you see to the man?”
The bruno was just as concerned. “He’s fine.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I swiped papers out of the way awkwardly so I could press the First Aid button. A couple of mechanized arms emerged from the box and whirred over my injury. “‘Course this never would’ve happened if you’d have shot straight from the start, sister. You could’ve just said you were talking about Tommy ‘touch of death’ Tsunami!”
I felt pretty sorry for myself as the medimech cleaned and wrapped up my hand.
“You wanna know why he got the name Tsunami? Because of all the stiffs he leaves in the wake of being bent. Bullet-ridden buildings, cement shoes, scattered limbs and all.”
I fumbled for a smoke, which was hard to do with a bum hand. “Deal’s off, darling.” I took a hard drag on sweet nicotine. “Money ain’t worth getting smoked over. Find another patsy to do your dirty work.”
“You’re the only patsy I need, Mr. Trubble. Please don’t insult my intelligence by acting as though you have a choice in this.”
“Really?” I reclined and put my heels back on the desk where they belonged, ignoring Poddar’s warning frown. “You gonna tell me why I should stop the Mean Ol’ Broad from showing both of you the way out?”
Ms. Kilby’s eyes glimmered like newly polished bullets. She had one those mystery smiles that dames put away for special occasions. “You have two major problems, Mr. Trubble. You gamble, and you lose. Badly. You’re in for 500 large with the Russians. Not to mention quite a few yards scattered across town. These people are not known for their patience. I hear the Goryachevas have a mark out for your head.”
She had me and she knew it. Debt is like one of my ex-girlfriends.
Every time I think I’ve left it behind, it comes out of nowhere to kick me in the nuts.
Ms. Kilby leaned back. “So the offer still stands. The deal is: Poddar will accompany you. Just to insure you don’t take a sudden vacation and try to hack the dibcard. Not that I’d ever accuse you of being so cowardly.”
I mentally canceled my vacation plans. “Of course not.”
“He is your partner now. If you want your payment, all you have to do is keep him close at all times. You know, like a Siamese twin.”
Poddar tossed a dibcard on the desk. A custodian account like the dame said. Took two separate thumbprints and two ID codes to complete the transfer to my account. Mine, and unless my powers of perception went the way of the formerly united States, the other would be Kilby’s. The funds couldn’t be retracted from my account, but I couldn’t extract them either without the other thumbprint and code.
One million large. The glow of the digital numbers blushed soft red on the display. That much lettuce could take care of a lot of problems, mainly the ones with Russian names. I casually tucked it in my shirt pocket.
“Thing is, neither of us are Siamese. I’m more like the bad boy on the playground — I don’t share, I don’t play fair, and I don’t like the other kids. This ain’t gonna work, sweetheart. I’m a solo act. Besides, who’s gonna guard that pretty body of yours if your bruno is with me?”
She had already walked to the door. “That’s awful gallant of you to be concerned for me, Mr. Trubble. A blunt object like yourself may not have the imagination to conceive this, but a lady is not entirely helpless these days. While being without Poddar is inconvenient, I assure you that I can manage.”
She paused. “Before you get any bright notions about Poddar, realize that in his homeland they called him the Prince. Some foolish individuals thought they could get away with kidnapping children from his village for the slave trade. He was the only one sent after the assailants. He brought every child home safely. The kidnappers weren't so fortunate.”
She favored him with a genuine smile that vanished when she turned to me. “Have a care, Mr. Trubble. I’ll be in touch, unless you manage to get killed before that can occur.”
The door slid shut as she passed through the front office and exited into the rain. I was left with the Prince, who gazed at me somberly.
“How is that cut doing?” His tone had the perfect degree of unconcerned concern.
“Don’t worry, my trigger finger is just fine.”
I grabbed my flogger and hat from the rack beside the door. Can’t be a Troubleshooter without the proper uniform. The flogger concealed the heat, and the fedora is all about attitude. That’s why in New Haven it’s referred to as the Bogart. There’s a lot of ways to wear a Bogart, and each one gives a clear indicator of your state of mind. I tilted mine forward so that it shadowed my eyes. To anyone approaching, it was a clear sign that I was on official Troubleshooter business.
The last thing I picked up was my lucky card off the desk. The Joker. I never left home without him.
“Let’s go.”
“Have a ggggood dday, Mr. Trrrubble.” Pris twitched and shuddered at her desk.
Poddar paused. “Wow. That’s about the oldest model android I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Yeah, I’m… restoring her. She’ll be worth a lot of berries one day.” I stepped toward the door to avoid further embarrassment.
Poddar looked at the faded letters on the glass. “So why are you called a Troubleshooter? Because of your name?”
“Just a coincidence, Ace. I guess when times were civilized I’d have been called a private investigator. Nowadays when people got nowhere else to turn, they give me a call.”
“And what exactly is it that you do?”
I grinned. “I do pretty much what the name implies. I shoot trouble.”
We stepped outside and eyeballed the downpour. Good thing my flogger was waterproof.