I crossed my legs nonchalantly and wiped a dirt smudge from my wing tip.
“I think we’re going to the moon.”
UAKM — CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ching and I discussed our plans for more than an hour. Talking to her, I came to the conclusion that she would be a good person to have in my camp. She said she had connections and would find a way for us to get passage to the lunar penal colony. Even I knew that getting to the moon required clearance, but Ching said it could be bought from the right people. We determined that it was too late to retrieve the satuette. All we could do now was try to find out what the cult planned to do. And the answer seemed to be off-planet.
Ching told me that she’d contact me as soon as she made arrangements, and then she left. Her thugs, who were intoduced as Lou and Felipe, didn’t seem too happy about me joining their vigilante band, but I shook their hands anyway and wished them a good night. When I was alone, I wondered if I was getting involved foolishly. I already suspected that I was getting in over my head, and everything Ching had told me seemed to confirm this. But the things she had said also led me to believe that if we didn’t do something, no one would. With CAPRICORN decimated, the Colonel dead, and the rest of the world in blissful ignorance, I was inclined to agree.
The question was, do what? We had almost no clue as to the cult’s intentions. What was the aim of the project at GRS? Why would they need to continue their work at the lunar penal colony? Again, I found myself asking a million questions and coming up with no answers. Maybe I just needed a few mugs of the Armageddon.
Business at the Brew & Stew was surprisingly slow. Even at eleven o’clock on a weeknight, the place was usually half full. When I stepped inside the diner, I counted eight heads. Rook was sitting on his preferred bar stool, playing chess with another old Mutant, who I didn’t recognize. Louie was leaning on the other side of the counter, intently watching the match. He looked up and waved. “Hey there, Murph. C’mon in! I think we can squeeze ya in somewhere.”
I sidled over to the bar and sat next to Rook’s back. Rook glanced over his shoulder.
“Well, if it isn’t Murphy. How goes the search for true love?”
“It’s a myth, Rook. The best I can hope for is the companionship of swell friends like you.”
Rook snorted and returned to his game. Louie grinned and shook my hand, but his expression became concerned when he noticed the knuckle-shaped marks on my chin.
“Geez, Murph, what happened?”
My hand went self-consciously to my jaw. “Oh, nothing. Shaving accident.”
Louie turned his head slightly and gave me the eye. “You gotta take better care. If you ain’t careful, yer gonna end up lookin’ like me.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Louie. You’re a handsome man.”
The big Mutant actually blushed. “So, what’ll yer poison be tonight?”
“Just a cup of the Armageddon.”
“Comin’ up.”
The television behind the bar was tuned to a music video station. If the on-screen action was indicatice of the music, I was glad the sound was muted. I heard Rook’s friend call check and decided to investigate the chess game. It didn’t require any neck cranning to look over Rook’s petite, rounded shoulder. I’d never been much of a chess player, though I’d loaded it on my computer. The chess program had ten levels. I could win on level one with my eyes closed, but level two beat the snot out of me every time. It was just like my experience with women. Almost exactly.
Despite my lack of chess expertise, it seemed pretty clear that Rook was being taken to school by his chess buddy. Rook seemed to sense that I was peeping an turned around indignantly. “Don’t you have something better to do than leer over my shoulder? Look, there’s a TV. Why don’t you watch that?”
I held up my hands. “Sorry, Rook. Don’t let me disturb you. Looks like you’re having a hard enough time without me witnessing the humiliation.”
“You are so very funny.” Rook turned back to the game as Louie emerged from the kitchen with a small plate and a steaming mug of java.
“Fresh pot. And I thought you might like a little something to munch on.”
Louie had cut up three or four kinds of cheese and laid the slices out with pieces of ham and turkey. There was even a dollop of brown mustard in the center of the plate. At any other restaurant in the city, this little dainty would’ve run anywhere from five bucks to a C-note — at Louie’s place, it came with the coffee. I helped myself to a chunk of sharp cheddar while Louie dipped a slice of turkey in the mustard.
“Tell me something, Louie. You ever gotten yourself into a situation and realized you’re in over your head?”
Louie chewed pensively, then took a sip off a can of Diet Shasta. “Sure. Got one of them right now, as a matter of fact.” He set the can down to free up his hands for gesturing.
“You see, my sister’s boy, Dalton, is graduating from Berkley. Now, I think of him like my own son, so I told him I would be at his graduation. Then, as luck would have it, my goddaughter is gettin’ married on the same day. Well, I wasn’t even thinkin’ about the graduation, and I said I’d come to the weddin’.”
“Same time of day?”
“Of course. So what do I do?”
I shrugged and took another piece of cheese. “Easy. Go to the graduation.”
Louie looked perplexed. “How come?”
“You only graduate once.”
Louie couldn’t argue with flawless logic and helped himself to a slice of ham. As he dabbed mustard, he gave me an appraising look. “You know what I think?”
“Probably not.”
“I think you need to find somebody nice and settle down. That’s what I’d do if I was you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It’s an image thing, you know. PIs and women mix like toothpaste and orange juice. Besides, I already tried it once.”
“I dunno, Murph. There’s nothin’ better than the love of a good woman.”
“Good woman are extinct.”
Louie grinned. “Not extinct. Endangered, maybe. But not extinct. I think yer too young to be givin’ up hope.”
I took a sip of hot coffee. “I don’t know, Louie. Things have gotten much easier since I gave up hope.”
My unwavering pessimism seemed to have won the day. Louie retreated to the kitchen for the pot of Armageddon. On the television, a hideously attractive young woman was writhing on camera, wearing two beer coasters and a scowl and not much more. Louie burst from the kitchen like an Olympic torch bearer and refilled my coffee mug.
“Fou prend reine! Echec et mat!”
I didn’t know French, but something in the phrase caught my ear. I turned to see Rook’s chess partner downing a shot, apparently celebrating his victory. I leaned around Rook and addressed the other man. “What did you just say?”
“Fou prend reine! Echec et mat!” Bishop takes queen — checkmate!”
Something was clicking in my head. “Fou means bishop?”
The old Mutant nodded and spoke with a slight accent.
“It means bishop, in regards to the chess piece. Fou is quite an interesting word. It is mostly used as a — what is the word?… adjective…”
While the pedant babbled on about linguistics, I was busy checking my pockets for the almost forgotten blue index card. It suddenly occured to me that I might have overlooked an interpretation for part of the code. The card was still in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and read it again. BXK+A261184. BxK. Bishop takes king. I turned to the old chess player and interrupted him in mid-sentence.
“Fou means bishop. What is the French word for king?”