Cook, Glen - Garrett Files 06 - Red Iron Nights by Cook Glen

Author:Cook, Glen [Cook, Glen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Mystery
ISBN: 9780451451088
Publisher: Roc
Published: 1991-09-16T07:00:00+00:00

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30

“Another thousand marks if I wrap it permanently?”

So the man promised. He delivered before. The Dead Man was pleased with himself for having wangled another cash commitment from Block.

“Occasionally I’ve complained about the way you—”

Occasionally? Would you not prefer ‘frequently’? Or ‘consistently’? Possibly even ‘persistently’ or ‘continuously’?

“Once in a while. Whenever the seven-year locusts sing. But I did want to make the opposite point. That was a coup, getting him to pay again.”

He is desperate.

“And desperate times are the best times for those who are alert to opportunity. I understand. What do you think about interviewing Chodo’s daughter?”

Morley had invited himself out of my office into the Dead Man’s room. Now he invited himself to comment. “This came up before. My overtures were not greeted with cries of joy.”

“Leave it to me. I got style. Get word to Crask that I want to talk about the girl. Don’t say what girl. He don’t know I know who she is.”

“I don’t get it. How can he not know? . . . ”

“You don’t have to get it. Just tell him I want to talk to him about a girl. You don’t say which one, he’ll know what I mean. Him and me can take it from there.”

“You’re working an angle, Garrett. You ought to know better. You always get yourself into deep shit. What is it? Don’t try anything with the kingpin’s kid. You get a notion like that, slash your wrists and save the rest of us some grief.”

“What do you think?” I asked the Dead Man.

An interview with the girl may prove unproductive, but an interview is necessary to demonstrate that. If possible, arrange to see her here.

“The very core of my master plan.”

You lie. But I do trust your sense of self-preservation will deflect your inclinations.

“I am a mature human being, sir. I do not look upon all members of the opposite sex as objects of desire.”

Morley sneered. “Only those over eight and under eighty.”’

“You’re not helping. Sure, I don’t plan to be in bed alone when I go. But I don’t plan to go for a couple centuries, either.”

Ha. I convinced me. All but one tiny part that wondered what I’d do if Chodo’s daughter suffered some miraculous remission and not only became able to see me but decided to whisper sweet nothings . . . Sometimes even the stoutest-hearted of us white knights find the dictates of reason, conscience, and survival overruled by parts not amenable to the dictates of the mind. There’s a sociopath in each of us just waiting to miss the connection between an act and its consequences.

“Right.” Morley didn’t believe me.

I got the impression the Dead Man didn’t either.

My own doubts were less apocalyptic. I’d seen enough of the woman to have become deafened to the sirens of that fantasy. I might snort and stamp, but I wouldn’t lose control. She wasn’t my type.

We talked about this and that till Morley decided he’d heard enough bad news. He said, “If I’m away too long, Puddle and Sarge and the kid will have me set for the poorhouse.

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