Red Iron Nights

47

Elvis Winchell and his sidekick had guts. Relway and Spike told me about the scam they'd started before chance brought the corporal and Price Ripley up against something too big to handle.

Their target area was the waterfront around Ogre Town. Real badlands. Winchell would wander the worst parts pretending to be drunk. Ripley, Relway, and the ratman would blend into the derelict scenery, then would jump whoever jumped Winchell.

I admired Winchell's balls but had reservations about his methods. He'd made only two actual arrests, of two fairly inoffensive young muggers. But he'd sent a bunch of thugs home kneecapped, set to spend the rest of their lives on the victim side of the line. He felt that word would spread and the bad boys would take their business elsewhere.

"Maybe," I said. "But I think they'd have just killed you."

"Four of us?" Spike demanded. I was startled, not at all used to being addressed as an equal by a ratman. A second later I was amused by this discovery of my own flaw. Spike continued, "Muggers don't have a guild and they don't work in crowds. I lived in this area for years. The muggers never work in groups of more than four. Two is most common. We handled foursomes easily. Captain Block gave us the tools."

"Maybe I'd better not pursue this. I don't think I want to know."

"There's a New Order coming, Garrett," Relway said. "Lot of people have had all they can take. The pendulum is swinging. You're going to find people saying that if the Crown won't solve social problems, they'll take care of them themselves." The man went on, at great length, till I was ready to send him off to debate those women I'd sicced on the Dead Man that time. Relway, though he had no human blood, was determined to be a factor in TunFaire society.

I suggested, "Maybe you're overstepping, friend. Non-humans are here only by treaty. They don't want to be subject to Karentine law, they better not claim its protection either."

"I hear you, Garrett. And you're right. There should be one law for everyone. You're born in this city and live in this city, you should help make this city a decent place to live. I done my part. I did my five in the Cantard and took my Karentine citizenship."

I got the message. Don't look down because he was a breed. He'd paid his dues same as me.

I edged away from Relway. He was a committed activist. Every third sentence included "the New Order," clearly capitalized.

Politicals make me nervous.

Translation: they scare the shit out of me. They're weird and they believe the weird shit they say without looking at the implications of their becoming successful. Luckily, politicals are few in TunFaire, and those few are despised, outcasts.

They ought to learn to be less threatening, like Barking Dog Amato.

Now I saw how Relway had sublimated the anger and hatred that should result from being an unusual breed and notably ugly besides. He would keep on smiling but would restructure the world so he'd become one of its shining lights.

Fine. Go for it, buddy. Just include me out of the revolution and its aftermath. I'm happy with my life the way it is.

Relway and Spike led me to a tenement that had burned recently but incompletely. Though abandoned, its cellars remained habitable—defining habitable by liberal standards.

I asked, "How do we find out if anybody's in there?"

It was broad daylight. I was strutting around with two guys Winchell knew, two guys with no ability to cut any slack. They had black-and-white minds. An hour earlier Winchell and Ripley were their best buddies. Now those two were just names on the sleazeball list, scum in need of expungement.

Relway gave the ruins the fish-eye. "Spike, you're better at getting around quietly. Check it out."

Ratmen are sneaky bastards. Spike went off like a ghost, not toward the place that interested us. Relway and I made ourselves invisible while we waited. Relway was a chatterbox with a nose a foot long. He wanted to know all about who I was and why I was interested in the case.

"None of your business," I told him.

In a huff, Relway said, "You could at least show some manners. You could be polite. I'll be important in the New Order."

"I'm not polite to Block. I wouldn't be polite to his boss. I'm not going to waste polite on you and the rat. I didn't particularly want to be here. Fate keeps messing me around."

"I hear what you're saying. Same shit happens to me. Maybe more, looking the way I do."

"Nothing wrong with the way you look," I lied. "There's the rat. What's he signaling?"

"I think he means they're in there. He wants to know what we do now."

"What we do now is wait for Block. I got a feeling this Winchell is nasty. I'd just hate it if he got away over my dead body."

"I know where you're coming from, Garrett." Relway waved and poked the air. So did Spike. "I'm not big on becoming a dead hero myself. I do want to see the New Order arrive. You wouldn't be the Garrett that's the investigator, would you?"

"Probably. Why? I didn't mess up any of your family or pals, did I?"

"No. Nope. What you're looking at is something you ain't going to believe exists. A real one in a trillion. A pervert. An honest breed who comes from a family that's never had even one member taken in for questioning." His tone was challenging, and deservedly so, because my attitude reflected the general prejudice. What was embarrassing was that it wasn't a prejudice I really felt.

"We're off on the wrong foot here and it's mostly my fault, Relway. It isn't personal. I've been in a foul mood since I got up. I usually save my venom for the ratmen."

"You're weird, Garrett. Here comes the man." He meant Block. Evidently Block was held in high esteem in some quarters.