In Favour of Fools: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 1) (4 page)

Masters sat at the far end of the table, with Dart to his left and Deed to his right. The rest of the table was taken up by the remaining members of what he liked to call his gang.

‘We should say something about Rees before we start,’ said Dart; resting both hands on the table, with his eyes focused on his fingernails.

‘He’s dead,’ replied Deed. ’Nothing more to be said.’

‘He worked for us for nearly ten years. That’s got to count for something. And he took a bullet for Ben.’

‘How about that, Ben?’ Deed turned to look at his boss.

‘What d’you mean?’ Masters wriggled a little on his narrow chair.

‘How did he end up taking a bullet for you? Who’s trying to kill you?’

‘Who knows? Who cares? He missed, so let’s move on.’

Deed glanced over at Dart; for a second he held his eye. Dart looked away, then down at his wrist-top.

‘It’s been a quiet month,' he began slowly. 'Revenues are down on last year, despite there being an extra working day this year. Relocation is looking more and more like the only viable option we have left. The AI’s are ruining our business, and that’s the end of it.’ Dart held up his scrupulously clean hands, then rubbed them together.

‘Any good news?’ asked Masters.

There was some muttering and shaking of heads, but no-one had the good news or the courage to speak up.

That was when the bomb went off.

It took out three junior members of the gang; leaving the rest shaken, but unharmed.

To give him his due, it would have been very hard for Evans to guess correctly where Masters would choose to sit. It was perfectly reasonable to think that he would sit in the rather grand carver at the end of the oval mahogany table that was furthest from the door, and not one of the simpler, armless chairs set around the rest of the table. Putting his small bomb under the carver was the obvious choice.

He wasn’t to know that Masters couldn’t get his backside in the carver, and so chose the armless seat at the opposite end of the table.

**********

So they both squirted to the Squirtport; did that mean anything? Probably not, as Masters went on to OK and Johnson (that was the second guy’s name) squirted to JD. I didn’t know anything about either planet, and I had no intention of learning more. I wasn’t at all interested in the panoply of new planets being opened up on what seemed like a monthly basis. I had no intention of visiting them, so I was happy for them to keep their air of mystery.

The building turned out to be a private hospital, though why anyone would build it in such a deprived area is anyone’s guess; probably cost.

That was the end of it; the questions wouldn’t be answered and I decided that I could live with that. After all, it had nothing to do with me, and I had my own problems to sort out.

Devon was my bookmaker, and I had a small gambling problem, which he was happy to help me make bigger, as long as I kept up my regular payments. That was the issue; I didn’t have a regular income. The real issue of course, is that I couldn’t pick a winner if my life depended on it. If I backed the hare, the tortoise would be sure to win.

I zipped my report and final bill to the ex-Mrs. Masters and went looking for a coffee. Julie was painting her nails a fetching shade of red so, yet again, I had to make my own.

The machine was gurgling and Julie was humming along, when there was a knock on the outer door of the office. Without waiting for a bye your leave, the ex-Mrs. M. walked in. Her hair was straight and jet black; neatly framing her pale face.

‘Hello, Mrs. Masters. Did you get my report?’

‘Yes.’ She walked right past me and into my inner sanctum.

I trotted after her like an overexcited puppy (that’s how Julie described me later).

‘If you had any questions, you could have called me. You didn’t have to come in person.’

‘It was no trouble. I squirted over; took me next to no time.’ She settled into the chair facing my desk.

I nodded my head and searched inside it for something to say; I probably frowned.

‘What’s wrong Mr. Chandler? Don’t you like to squirt?’ She arched her eyebrows and allowed the tip of her tongue to peep between her implausibly red lips.

I was still looking for those elusive words, so I gave a light, sophisticated chuckle.

‘Why would he go to OK?’ Suddenly all serious, her lips tightened and three vertical lines appeared between her eyebrows.

‘Why’s are outside my remit, Mrs. Masters. What, when, where? Those are the facts I deal with.’ I was quite impressed with my response.

‘What benefit would he achieve by travelling there? When is he coming back? Where can I find someone to drag his sorry butt back home? How’s that?’

I smiled as if to say well done; but had nothing further to say.

‘I want you to go to OK, find out what he’s up to and, when I’ve made the decision, bring him home.’

She spoke slowly and clearly; to be certain that every word was understood. I hate it when people do that to me.

‘I’m in the information business, Mrs. Masters. Not the abduction business. It is not part of my role to travel to distant planets on your behalf, or on behalf of anyone else. I can certainly locate him on OK for you, but you will have to find someone else to deal with anything else.’

I sounded firm and professional, and there was surely no room to misinterpret my words; that was how it seemed to me.

‘You’ll need some help in the extraction phase of the operation, so a colleague of mine will be calling on you a little later. His name is Strange and I would recommend that you be polite to him.’

I stood up, as if my words would have more impact when I was on my feet. I could see Sam's face as he studied Mrs. Masters (ex) through the narrow gap of the partly opened bathroom door; I think he may well have been drooling.

‘Mrs. Masters, you have my bill and my report. I am sure that there is little more I can do for you. I will zip the details of his exact location on OK to you when I can, and for that there will be no further charge. So, goodbye.’

I held out my hand. For a long moment it hung there between us; completely ignored. How long is it appropriate to linger like that? I thought about turning it into a wave; then I found that I lacked the courage. In the end, it just dropped and hid itself behind my thigh; to hide its embarrassment.

‘Oh, your bill,’ she said, after extending the awkward pause to heroic proportions. She flipped open her wrist-top and gave its small screen a disparaging look.

‘Are you sure it’s correct? It’s hard to think that a person could live on such a paltry amount.’

‘My expenses are few.’

‘Really? What about Mr. Devon? That looks like quite a substantial expense, to me.’

‘What..? What do you know about Devon?’ I could feel the heat rising.

‘He’s a colleague and dear friend of my husband; and he cooks a mean curry.’

I had a sudden image of Devon with a pinny and a tall white hat. It wasn’t pleasant.

‘Any business between Devon and myself is private, and hardly pertinent to our discussion.’

She smiled then; a full face job with teeth, eyes and dimples. I didn’t like it.

‘What if I were to take this tiny figure on your bill and add a zero to the end of it? How would that sound?’ She chewed her bottom lip and lifted her eyebrows.

I have to say that sounded pretty good to me. I’d be able to get ahead of the game with Devon, pay Julie everything I owed her, and maybe I could have a Sunday roast, with all the trimmings.

Despite that, I was still going to refuse. The idea of being squirted across the city was bad enough; I had no intention of allowing my poor body to be squirted across the cosmos.

‘Of course, that would be just the retainer. There would be a generous hourly rate, comprehensive expenses and, of course, a hefty bonus at the end.’

‘What figures are we talking here?’

She gave me the figures and, surprise, surprise, the total was strangely close to the amount I owed to Devon. I knew I was being played, but that knowledge was no help at all.

I held my hands up in admission of defeat.

‘What shots do I need?’ Was the best that I could do.

She chuckled. ‘Them all.’

The remaining members of the gang convened in their new HQ; a cramped office suite at the top of a private hospital in Levenshulme, Manchester.

Deed and Dart were there, along with Masters and a couple of guys who were so insignificant that they didn’t warrant names. If they do anything special, they'll get names; for now, think of them as Bob (1 & 2).

Masters was more animated than he was wont to be; excited even.

‘I have a solution to our financial problems,’ he announced, his big voice booming across the small office. He was even smiling; this made Bob nervous. He looked at Bob, who was always nervous; he wouldn't meet his eyes.

‘I’m sure you do, Ben. But there is an order of business that we need to deal with first, before we consider any new suggestions.’ Dart seemed to be comparing the finish of the nails on his index fingers.

‘If you let me explain my plan…’

‘First things first, Ben,’ Dart interrupted him. ‘You really should listen to our concerns.’

Ben stared at his lieutenant for a long moment, as if he was considering his response to this impertinence. Then he pursed his lips and nodded slowly.

‘I see. I assume you’re talking about the explosion.’ Masters flicked his eyes around the room; trying to gauge the support Dart might have. He wasn't worried about the Bobs of course, but he was concerned at the smile on Deed's face.

‘And the shooting of Rees,’ replied Dart as he leaned forward. 'That and the explosion constitute a systematic attack on you.’

‘Thanks for the concern.’

‘Of course we are concerned for your safety; that goes without saying. But the attacks affect us, and we have to put the wellbeing of this little project we are running ahead of anything else. And that includes you; you must see that.’

‘It is not your place to use words like ‘must‘ with me, sonny.’

‘Yet I have. Perhaps your opinion would be of use now, Deed.’ Darts eyes held those of his boss.

‘I think Dart’s meaning is abundantly clear, Ben. You are putting us all at risk.’

‘I assume you have a solution.’ Masters turned his head to give him the benefit of his stony stare.

‘We can’t ignore these attacks, but we don’t have the resources to find out who is behind them, and we have to ensure your safety.’ He glanced at Dart for support; he received a barely perceptible nod. ‘If you are no longer a target, then neither are we.’ Deed held firm under the full power of Masters’ glare.

The Bobs shrank a little in their chairs, in case they were noticed.

‘What are you suggesting?’ Ben's voice left a chill in the room.

‘We’ve talked many times about relocating to a planet not subject to the obtrusive controls of AI’s; where we would be allowed to ply our trade without their interference. We think this would be a good time for you to check out some of the more suitable planets.’

‘You want me to leave Earth?’

‘These days that is not as hard as it used to be.’

‘If I leave Earth, what’s to stop this guy from following me?’

Deed smiled. ‘Dart has a plan.’

Chapter 9
- Then Strange

If Dart and Deed had listened to the plan Masters was about to propose before they’d got all het up about their own solutions, things might have gone better for all involved.

In a world where illegal trade in cash was difficult, where diamonds were marked and recorded at source, where legal drugs were so effective, harmless and cheap that there was no market for the old faithfuls, and where weapons turned stool-pigeon on their users, it was hard to make a dishonest buck. Masters believed that he had found a way.

The gil-weed grows on the planet Greenhaven; a most unusual, almost habitable planet in that it orbits two stars. Its year is the equivalent of twelve Earth years; made up of four seasons, each lasting three years. Two seasons are roasting hot, when the planet is exposed to the full power of both suns, and the other two are temperate, when part of the energy from one sun is blocked by the mass of the other.

During the temperate seasons, the gil-weed flourishes and can be found across the whole of the equatorial zone. When the hot seasons arrive, the leaves of the weed turn to ash and all that is left is the root, hidden deep underground. If you dig up the root and crush it using the appropriate equipment, you can extract a tiny amount of gil-juice; gramme for gramme the most expensive commodity in the known universe.

Gil-juice doesn’t taste nice, or give you a high. It won’t make you good-looking or witty. It won’t turn you into the lover you always knew you’d be, or dull your wife's sharp tongue.

What it will do is super-charge your immune system, enabling your body to fight off any disease known to man, and slow down the effects of aging. One dose can add twenty healthy, productive years to your life; if you can afford to pay for it.

Masters had a contact on Greenhaven, and had used all of the gang’s remaining funds to buy up a case of gil-juice. Sold to the right people, it would have made the gang a fortune.

He would have told them all about it, if they’d let him; and he did try.

When he was forced to listen to Dart’s cunning plan however, a plan all of his own began to develop deep inside his convoluted mind.

**********

Strange was sitting in my chair when I got to my office, a little later than usual the next day. He was looking out of the window at the old Beetham Tower and seemed to take no notice of my arrival. I paused for the moment at the door, trying to decide what my reaction should be to this unwarranted intrusion. Of course, I knew exactly who he was. My first impulse was to storm in and throw him out but, even sitting down, he was so physically imposing that I could see he wasn’t going anywhere he didn’t want to go.

In the end I walked over to the chair on the other side of the desk and sat down. To show that I wasn’t discomfited, and in an impressive show of masculine bravado, I put my foot on the desk. Just the one foot. My father, bless his confused soul, always told me to keep one foot on the ground at all times. It may be a reference to Victorian courtship rituals, or snooker.

Strange still hadn’t noticed my arrival, so I coughed. It was only a small cough; nothing over-dramatic, but it served its purpose. Slowly he swivelled his head on his long neck and brought his full attention to bear on my insignificant person.

‘Chandler,’ he seemed to sigh; his voice so soft.

‘Strange,’ I replied, with the same air of worldly ennui, with maybe a touch of mockery thrown in.

He allowed his eyes to drift down my body to my foot, propped awkwardly on the desk. Remembering that my boots were overdue some repair work, I slipped the foot casually to the floor.

‘Mrs. Masters told me you’d be coming. I thought you might have made an appointment.’ I hate silences; I always feel that I have to fill them with words.

He considered those words for what seemed an awfully long time, then he smiled. It wasn’t a warm, entertained smile; it didn’t fill me with joy to see it. It was more like the smile a cartoon cat might give when the mouse is finally trapped, and there is no chance of rescue by the domestic dog.

‘Yes, Mrs. Masters told you I was coming. I let myself in, as it was so early. I knew you wouldn’t…mind.’ He paused slightly before the last word, as if he wanted to be sure no other word was more suitable. Or maybe it was his way of suggesting that my feelings were less than relevant.

‘Mind? Why would I mind?’ A little too quickly, if you ask me.

‘Mrs. Masters has asked me to accompany you and provide any assistance you might...require.’

Then he stood up, and it seemed to me that he took an age to stop rising. I also stood up, in a rugged masculine sort of way. I’m quite tall myself, but he was a good head taller. His custom made suit did little to hide the width of his shoulders, or the length of his arms.

He held out one hand. I didn’t want to take it, because I knew it was going to hurt. Eventually, I did, and it did.

‘Take my card. Call me when you are ready to go.’

I took the small silver card.

‘I’ll see myself out.’

I felt an urgent need to sit as he left; my legs refusing to support me any longer.

I listened for the creak of my front door as he left. It didn’t come. After some time trying to think of an alternative, I gathered my courage and followed him to the outer office. It was empty.

I gripped the handle on the door and pulled it towards me; it creaked.

Maybe I was so disturbed by his presence that I just hadn’t heard the door. I went back to my own chair and sat down, trying not to think about how warm it felt. I didn’t want to travel off-world, and I certainly didn’t want to travel off-world with him. If ten minutes in his company did this to me, what would ten days do?

'I didn't like him. He almost caught me sitting in your chair. I only just made it to the bathroom in time.' Just a head and one shoulder were visible in the bathroom doorway.

'You sit in my chair?'

'Only when you're not here. It's quite comfy,' replied Sam.

'Aren't you frightened of the AI's getting you? There's lots of electrical stuff here.'

'I switch the electric off and I use these to reduce my core body temperature.' He opened his jacket to show me the icepacks strapped to its insides.

I had to ask; this was a new one.

'Why do you need to reduce your core body temperature?'

'Their infrared sensors are set to recognise human body temperatures of 98.6 degrees; anything lower isn't registered. At my current core temperature of 97.2, I'm effectively invisible.'

'Then come out and sit on my couch.'

I checked my watch; Julie was due sometime in the next three hours, so I put the coffee machine to work. As I did, I tried to find some alternative; a way to avoid the unpleasantness that was heading my way.

It came to me as a fully formed thought, though clutching at straws was how Julie described it when I spoke to her over a coffee a little later.

I didn’t know enough about Johnson; the second man who’d walked out of the building after Masters. What if he was important? What if he could provide the answers I needed, without the need for accompanied travel?

I know; even I could see it was a long shot; but I always bet on long shots; it’s my thing.

I would have ran it past Sam, if he hadn’t been fast asleep on my couch, with snoring that was so loud he was certain to attract the attention of all the AI's who were after him.

I fired up the computers and set the search protocols to concentrate on the building and also to find out what info was available about Johnson. Within only a few minutes, I tracked Masters’ exit from the squirtbooth and entry into the building, three days before his final departure for pastures new. But there was no sign of the other man entering the building. Not over that three day period, and not in the three weeks before. Lots of other people came and went; not one of them was of a similar stature.

Two men left the building, when only one entered it. How did that happen, and what did it mean for me?

It might not be the answer I was looking for; but perhaps it was the question.