Cruel Zinc Melodies

74

I beckoned Saucerhead. And told one of Block’s thugs, ‘‘Let him through. He’s my chief security guy. Head. Round up your troops. You need to lock the place down before somebody gets a bright idea and tries to sneak in the back door.’’

Some of TunFaire’s bad boys are fast on the uptake, swift to seize the day, and stupid enough to go for a quick hit on a Weider property.

Some did beat Tharpe into the World. Where, unfortunately, they ran into angry ghosts. Or the Bellman making his getaway.

Three freelance socialists were scattered over a quarter acre of floor, physically undamaged. Two were hard at work babbling, one in tongues and the other talking to his dead mama. The third was in a coma. But there was no evidence of any big fight between the sorcerers and the ghosts.

The thing down underground seemed content. I saw only a few indeterminate shimmers, uninterested in us. Saucerhead hadn’t minded coming inside.

‘‘Garrett. Hey. You got to see this.’’ Saucerhead pointed into the cellar.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘Couple guys who must have been in a blind rush to get away.’’

I joined him. Colonel Block joined us. The lighting was feeble down there. Most of the lamps had burned out. But I could make out two men who did appear to have fallen, possibly while running blindly.

One had hit down where Rocky’s leavings were piled. He still twitched. He cut loose a long moan that might have been a cry for help.

Furious Tide of Light joined us. Barate Algarda was close behind. She used her timid little voice to ask us to get the inside lamps burning again.

‘‘Good idea,’’ I said. Wondering where the hell the lamp oil was hidden. I hadn’t seen any during my prowls. ‘‘There’s got to be a better way to light a place this size.’’ Then I jumped, startled.

A glowering Tinnie Tate had turned up. Evidently, I’d had some sort of glint in my eye while talking to the Windwalker.

I was too distracted to appreciate either lady. I’d been stricken by a fit of genius.

Need a better way to light a place as big as the World? I had the answer.

Go tell Kip Prose he needed to figure out how to do it. That kid can figure out how to do anything. If you hand him the challenge in the right way.

‘‘You’re getting a look on you that I don’t like, Malsquando.’’

All because I had my eyes pointed at a skinny little blonde while my genius was perking. I wasn’t seeing the Windwalker, let alone appreciating the view. I was trying to recall Kip’s comments about something we’d discussed in the once upon a time, long ago, while we were getting in a few minutes of time killing, hiding from some bad guys.

It wouldn’t come. But I knew it was there. All I had to do was take it up with Kip, next time our paths crossed.

Where the hell was the boy now? Had he paid attention when I’d told him to go see the Dead Man?

‘‘If he didn’t, I’ll go see his mother,’’ I muttered. Reviewing some fond memories.

‘‘Whose mother? What are you—’’

‘‘Tinnie. Darling. Sweetheart. Light of my heaven whom I love more than life itself. If you don’t stop this shit . . . Do I come around, sticking my oar in and getting underfoot when you’re trying to work?’’

That woman is a multiple personality. Ninety percent of the time she is the absolute center of her own universe. But once in a while, if you crack her between the eyes with a big enough stick, she’ll step back from all-about-Tinnie long enough to look at something differently. Plus, I got to admit, the personality she shows me is one I pretty much handcrafted for myself.

‘‘I got it, Garrett,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m pretty sure.’’

‘‘Pretty, anyway.’’ She might have a clue, after all. She sounded serious. And she didn’t call me Malsquando. ‘‘So, thank you, Light of My Life. Now let me get on with my work.’’

A core problem was, despite her having known me for ages, from days when my chosen profession pulled both of us into far harsher, deadlier, and spiritually more dangerous places, Tinnie can’t see what I do as real work.

She doesn’t need to know, but I feel the same way, sometimes.

I do what I do mostly because it’s better than working for somebody else.

‘‘Hey! Saucerhead.’’

Tharpe gave up looking into the pit. He came alongside, courageously inserting himself between me and the redhead, apparently under the misapprehension that I needed help. ‘‘What you got, Garrett?’’

‘‘What I got is, I’m thinking I want to bail on this whole adventure for today. I want to head on home, talk it over with my motion-challenged sidekick, then get myself twelve hours in a real bed. Not to mention some of Dean’s home cooking.’’

‘‘I could go for some a’ all that my own self. But my boss is a prick. Ain’t no way I can get loose long enough to get some a’ that for me.’’

I disdained any reply. I couldn’t win.

He was laying the groundwork for some kind of extortion.

‘‘Attitude, Garrett,’’ Colonel Block said from behind me. ‘‘Everything depends on how people respond to a man’s attitude.’’

Everybody I know, given the ghost of a chance, piles it on, higher and deeper. Fanatically determined to make the world’s ills all my fault.

Sometimes you just have to walk away.

That’s what I told me as I headed west, leaving the World and its miserable environs to stew.

No one else walked away—excepting Tinnie, who stuck tight. The rest all kept on keeping on, doing what needed to be done.

I was going to hear it from the Dead Man. I was going to hear it from Max Weider and Manvil Gilbey, too. I might hear it from Alyx and her smoking crew. I might hear a little something from Colonel Westman Block and Director Relway, later. I might get the random admonitions from Dean, Tinnie, Tinnie’s niece Kyra, and even lovable, quiet Kip Prose. Hell, I might even hear it from my great-uncle Medford Shale before the final word got spoken. My acquaintances are a chatty bunch.

Let them bark. I had to step outside of events for a while. I had to have some time out to see if I couldn’t get something to add up.

The appearance of the freaky families of the Faction might have put a new spin on everything.