Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

“It… has misspelled words.”

“Oh. Well, it’s not really a legal thing. It’s more you just saying, ‘hey guys, don’t sweat it.’”

She signed it and handed it back.

“So you’re okay with this? You’ll keep your mouth shut?”

She nodded emphatically.

“Great. Um, but you do know what will happen if you don’t, right?” I asked threateningly.

“You’ll… kill me?”

“No. We’ll torture you,” I said, flaring my nostrils. “Have you ever been tortured before?”

She shook her head quickly.

I didn’t know the first thing about torture but I wanted to leave her with an image that stuck, and more importantly, kept her silent.

“First we strap you down with restraints. We have billhooks clasping your ankles and wrists so you’ll cut yourself if you even twist. A cable is attached to a crossbar between your knees and connected to a ceiling pulley where it loops back down to a metal bit between your teeth. A winch… A winch…”

She was terrified, but her eyes blinked rapidly. I could tell she had no idea what I was talking about.

“But it won’t come to that, so don’t worry about it,” I said with a smile.

I walked over and helped her to her feet. She very reluctantly took my hand. I opened the door to leave, but she remained inside, collecting herself.

“I, uh, need to use this room,” I told her.

As we walked back, our footsteps echoed more than I remembered. The woman was behind me somewhat, blowing her nose as quietly as possible.

I came back to the main work area and it was obvious the entire staff had been panicked into submission from Houtin’s bawling. The manager was as far away across the office as possible.

“I need to speak to JonakathR…,” I yelled to the group, who were all staring at me in fear.

It figures. Right by the door.

He took off outside before I could even finish his name.

That was enough nonsense for today. He had to come back to work sometime or go home. But there was no way I was going to catch him at the moment.

Fortunately, time is on your side when you’re hunting someone on a space station.

I got a tele from Leeny, a boss I liked working with because he represented the fleshy business side of Belvaille. He asked me to come over as he wanted to talk in person.

I supposed he wanted to thank me for taking out Ddewn as the two hadn’t gotten along—not that Ddewn had gotten along with anyone.

None of Ddewn’s former rivals had talked to me as of yet. They probably had their hands full dealing with Garm’s new cleaning policies. Either that or they weren’t comfortable with me killing a crime boss. It was not how things were usually handled.

No, usually it was the foot soldiers who got killed until a boss was so weak he had to acquiesce to some buyout or other, and then he would reluctantly leave the station or be absorbed into someone else’s operation. It was rare for bosses to be killed, which usually only happened when they were so intransigent there was no other choice.

I had upset the precious balance, the decorum of criminality, by popping Ddewn. But you know, I was tired of apologizing for it.

Leeny was located centrally in the station, just outside of Garm’s offices. He owned a lot of the hotels and represented nearly all the men and women who worked as prostitutes. It was said Leeny had the most valuable database on Belvaille, as it had every citizen and their sexual proclivities and experiences.

Not all Colmarian Confederation mutations worked out so well. Most were fairly benign, but Leeny looked like someone took two ugly people, threw them in a blender, picked out the most hideous bits, and stitched up a new person. It was almost amazing he could speak out of the mismatched jigsaw puzzle that was his face.

But he had a great personality. I suppose you had to, looking like that. And from what I heard he treated his workers well. You’d think with access to all those girls he might be a real Lothario, but if he was, he never played it up.

Leeny’s office was sparse except for quite a few chairs and abstract sculptures. The room was modern and artsy. The chairs were curved and uncomfortable and didn’t seem designed for sitting in. His desk was slanted and stylish and completely unusable as a desk. Leeny nonetheless sat behind it, his knees probably squished. He had a horn of graying hair sitting lopsided atop his head and an electronic suit with geometric patterns. You couldn’t tell if he had wrinkles or that was just how his face creased.

Also inside the room, sitting down and not facing me, was what looked like a ball of fur inside an oversized suit that fit like a tent. His eyes were only barely visible past facial hair that merged with his eyebrows and fluffy mane. He had so many layers of clothing it would probably take hours to frisk him.

I knew him by appearance to be a bookkeeper.

I don’t know much about finances, but the various bosses all employed bookkeepers. Just like family members, they were considered off-limits when it came to conflict. I think simply because no one knew what they did and they were too valuable to lose. They all basically looked like this furry man.

“Hank,” Leeny said, smiling his twisted smile. “Glad you could come. Not too busy fighting aliens, I see.” He didn’t stand up, probably because he was wedged under his silly desk.

“No, I thought I’d go back to harassing little old ladies,” I said truthfully. “Much safer.”

“You haven’t tangled with my mother, then,” he warned. “Have a seat, please. Care for a drink?”

I sat down and the chair tilted dangerously. The bookkeeper kept his eyes staring at nothing. His legs were together and his hands folded in his lap.

“Sure, whatever you got.”

Leeny clicked a button on his desk.

“Three drinks,” he said into a microphone.

He caught me looking at some of his statues, which were spirally and odd.

“I like those because they look like me,” he said with a booming laugh.

I smiled.

“So, Hank, Belvaille’s going crazy. Garm wants me to purge all my records and we got the military getting ready to set up shop. I had to turn over a hotel for ‘official use.’”

“We’re all scrambling. I hope it works out.”

“Me too. Me too,” Leeny said thoughtfully.

Just then his secretary entered carrying a tray of drinks. She was nearly naked, with an incredible body, and had such an exaggerated walk it hurt my groin to watch. She handed us all our drinks and left.

“Sweet girl,” Leeny said after she exited. “She was actually born on Belvaille. A rare native. Mother died in the line of business, you know.”

“Hmm,” I said, sipping my drink.

“Right. To the point. Hank, I want to thank you for taking care of Ddewn. I know it’s not proper to speak ill of the dead, but the guy was psychotic.”

“No problem. Like you said, we’re cleaning house.”

“Exactly. And, do you know my bookkeeper?” He indicated the hair bush, who was holding his glass of alcohol disdainfully.

“I think we’ve met briefly,” I hazarded.

“You were covered in blood,” the bookkeeper said with a thick accent.

“Sounds like Hank,” Leeny joked. “The point is, when the military gets here, they aren’t just going to be checking for drugs and whatever. They’re going to be checking us out as individuals. Is your money in order?”

“My what?” I asked.

“Your books. You presumably have some wealth, right?”

“Sure,” I said uneasily.

“Well, I’m lending you my bookkeeper. He can help you stash your money, clean it up, sift it out, so that when he’s done, you’ll look like the most respectable person on Belvaille.”