"Their government will never let them do that." Stopping adventurers was Casey's business. His whole purpose in life was to prevent contacts between his people and ours.
"You really think? It's beyond corruption?"
"Glad to see you're all right," I said. "Get plenty of rest. And get some meat in your diet. You'll need to beef up if you want to make it in the gigolo racket." I began to sidle toward the door.
"I plan to maintain my amateur status. But you being a businessman now, you might want to exploit the opportunity."
Maybe I could recruit Kip and Rhafi and a dozen of their friends. What they lacked in experience they could make up in enthusiasm.
I sidled some more, noting that Singe was enjoying my discomfiture entirely too much.
"What's your rush, Garrett?" my old pal asked.
"I've got to see a Dead Man about a horse."
Morley took his turn chuckling. Chances were he had a fair notion what was going on in my head. But he said only, "You be careful on the street. There are some ratfolk out there who resent what the Guard did to Reliance. And they think you and Singe might have had something to do with that. Your friend John Stretch is having trouble setting himself up as Reliance's replacement."
"My friend John Stretch is going to get some grief from me, too." I'd concluded that John Stretch had given me completely bum information about where to find the Maskers. That Singe and I had stumbled into the right place at the wrong time almost entirely by chance. That we never would have found the Visitors if Bic and his sorcerer friend hadn't been dogging us.
Dotes got in a final gouge as we stepped into the street. "See you at Chodo's birthday bash. I think you could sell your gigolo franchise to the Outfit."
Chodo's birthday party. That bucket of ice water put everything else into a more favorable perspective. The return of the insatiable Visitor girls sounded positively attractive by comparison.
82
"What the hell do you mean, he got away?" I yelled at Dean. "Between you and Old Bones in there you couldn't manage one guy four feet tall and only about fifty pounds soaking wet?"
"You exaggerate, Mr. Garrett," Dean replied with cold dignity. "That creature has Powers. And the thing in the other room went to sleep." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Dead Man. "If you insist on pillorying someone for dereliction, I suggest your candidate be the thing actually capable of having exercised control over the foreigner."
"But he's asleep. I can't vent my frustrations by yelling at him."
Dean shrugged. My need to yell was a matter of indifference to him. Unless I showed the slack-witted judgment to zero in on him personally. "I expect you're starved, Mr. Garrett. What do you say to stuffed peppers?"
That was blackmail in its rawest form.
Dean's smile was wicked, even demonic. He'd do it. He'd really make the whole house reek of that foul fruit.
"You watch out I don't change the locks next time you go out of the house."
Dean smiled. It's his firmly held conviction that I can't get along without him.
The man is mad.
"I'm going to go into my office. I'm going to put on my thinking cap. Singe, how about you grab us a pitcher and a couple of mugs?" I really wanted to go pummel the Dead Man but knew I'd just end up driving myself crazy. If he was soundly enough asleep to let Casey get away there'd be no waking him up anytime soon.
Because beer was involved Singe overlooked my treating her more like an employee than a partner, which is what she figured she was.
I didn't give Eleanor more than a passing glance because I knew what I'd find if I bothered to consult the woman in the painting. No help at all and a whole lot of amusement at my predicament.
Singe materialized with the beer. Not one pitcher but two, one in each paw, with mugs. We went to work sipping, nobody saying much. After a while she returned to the kitchen for refills. We sipped some more. I began to relax. Then Dean stuck his head in to tell me that Colonel Block was at the door and wanted to see me.
I hadn't heard him pounding.
Singe hadn't either, apparently. She said, "Just when I was about to seduce you."
"Life's a bitch. There's always a Westman Block ready to jump in and ruin the moment. Colonel! How good to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Singe moved her special chair aside so Block could plant himself in the guest seat.
Block nodded his head sagely. "All right, Garrett. You got me fooled. You're thrilled to see me. I just wanted to share some news. We caught one of those silver elves that have been terrorizing the city."
"Terrorizing?" Being the superb actor I am, I kept a straight face and said, "Really? Congratulations."
"Don't waste the effort."
"Huh?"
"I know what's been going on, Garrett. Lucky for you, most of the time I buy into Deal's concept of the rule of law."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"Your attitude, however, frequently makes it hard to cut you any slack."
"So my best friends keep telling me. I had a rough childhood. My daddy got killed in the war."
Which wasn't the smartest choice of wiseass comments. But the good colonel set me straight.
"Don't be a dickhead, Garrett. Everybody's daddy got killed in the war. That's the way they did it in those days. They waited till a guy created a family before they conscripted him. That way they could be sure there'd be more soldiers coming up."
"Easy. Sorry." This was an aspect of Wes Block I hadn't seen before. "So let's be serious. You've caught one of the silver elves."
"And he isn't talking. We're not entirely sure that he can. The people who've examined him say it might not be possible to make him talk because we don't have the technical expertise."
Clever, clever Casey. He was selling his strangeness. "And?"
"And there have been suggestions, from some quarters, that your partner might be able to fill the communications gap."
Ah. Now we came to the reason for the friendly visit. "There's an idea that hasn't found its time. Assuming there was any way at all he could be talked into underwriting the delinquencies of the people you're fronting, there's still one problem. He's sound asleep. Based on grim experience, I'd say there's a cruel chance he'll stay that way for a long time. Because he's had to stay awake a lot, lately."
"I'm trying to save you some grief, Garrett."
"And I appreciate it. But no amount of good intentions on your part, or of anybody else's wishful thinking, can change the facts. Come on. I'll show you." Like there's anything visibly different about how the Dead Man looks when he's sleeping. "Stick a pin in him if you want. He wouldn't feel it anyway but if he was awake he'd respond to the insult. Or you could say something revolting but true about the Loghyr."
"I'll take your word for it." But his tone wasn't that reassuring. "The trouble is, I have people pressing me who don't really care about such problems."
"You have people pressing you who're stupid enough to risk offending a dead Loghyr?"
"In a word, yes. There really are people who don't know any better."
"People that survived the Cantard?"
"We have a crop of apprentices coming up who didn't get a chance to experience the worst the war had to offer before the Venageti collapse. They don't know they're not invulnerable. They have no grasp whatsoever on their true limitations. And they're in a hurry now."
"You don't say. And you don't know any older, cooler heads who might rein them in?"
Block shrugged. He looked grim. He shuddered. I asked, "What?"