The Change: Tales of Downfall and Rebirth by Stirling S. M

Author:Stirling, S. M. [Stirling, S. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Anthologies
ISBN: 9780698141698
Goodreads: 32054348
Publisher: Roc
Published: 2015-06-02T07:00:00+00:00

* * *

It was all as Miss Finkle had said it would be. Her brother’s workshop, tucked in between a once infamous private detective and a less notable astrologer-by-appointment. The door to the detective agency stood open. There was only one room, no space for a receptionist. The shattered remains of a whiskey bottle littered the desk, which was also strewn with papers and something Pete hadn’t seen in a long time. A handgun. He pieced the story together. The private eye putting away one shot after another as everything fell apart around him. Draining the bottle. Putting the muzzle of the revolver to his forehead for that last, white-hot shot that would carry away the troubles of the world, forgetting . . .

Forgetting . . .

Forgetting the gun didn’t work anymore. Nothing worked anymore. The trigger clicking impotently. The hammer falling uselessly. And the drunken, bewildered man lashing out with the cold lump of steel, smashing the bottle, glass shards flying everywhere. He’d probably find a few dried, brown bloodspots in there if he bothered to look.

He didn’t.

“So, what now?” asked Jules as they pulled up in front of the frosted glass door stenciled with A. A. FINKLE—WATCHMAKER. The concertina security grill looked as old as the building, a relic of the 1930s, but that simply meant it had done the job of securing the Finkle family business for eight decades. There would be no breaking in by brute force. Not without raising an unholy racket that’d bring every hungry Biter on both sides of the harbor looking for them.

“Yeah, Obi Wan. Nice work. The journey is the destination but the fucking destination is locked up tighter than a gnat’s ass.”

Pete just grinned.

“Such a lack of faith in your celebrated captain would speak poorly of him, if he didn’t know what a feckless pair of bitches you are.”

He reached into his breast plate and fetched out a brass key on a long chain.

“If you’d listened to my improving instruction on the voyage down, instead of murdering the Spice Girls’ back catalog, you’d have learned that Miss Finkle, sister of the dear departed Double-A, has provided us with a key to her brother’s place of business for the very reasonable consideration of ten percent off the back end of any salvage.”

“Fuck me!” said FiFi. “Ten percent? For a cut like that the old bitch should’ve dragged her wrinkled ass down here and helped us haul out.”

Pete smiled and shrugged as he fitted the key into the lock. It turned easily.

“Well, she is, as you say, a rather wrinkly old bitch. Perhaps you’ll get lucky and she’ll die before we return with her share.”

“Fifi,” sighed Jules. “You know we have to pay her. Good information always pays off. That’s how it works. It’s how we work. Otherwise we’re just picking over the scraps like the rest of the bottom-feeders.”

Fifi rolled her eyes. “I know it, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Come on,” said Pete as he pulled the grill aside. It squeaked in protest.

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