Glen Cook - Red Iron Nights

There are horrors that recur in long cycles, like locust plagues, but separated by generations. If these murders were cultist, they might fit one of those cycles.

The Dead Man wasn't talking but he was listening. He was poking around. He's damned subtle, but when he starts prying, I can tell. If I'm paying close enough attention.

Garrett. Shall we set all sham aside? Shall we abandon all childish efforts to abrade one another's nerves? I will not yet admit that we must pursue this monster, but I will stipulate that we owe the situation a close look.

"You grow up, I'll grow up."

Block gave me a strange look. He hadn't heard the Dead Man's end. The Dead Man can do that if he wants. It makes some of our conversations spooky.

Excellent. I will set my concern for your soul in abeyance for the moment.

Oh, boy. He wasn't going to let me off. Those women had offended his sense of rationality. He hates people who won't examine beliefs critically. Most of the time he hides it when he deals with me, but he holds the majority of humankind in contempt. Of the gods-know-how-many sentient species in the world, we humans are the only ones who insist on fervent belief in things logic and our senses demonstrate to be implausible. Amongst other races those who stumble into never-never-lands of wishful thinking are considered insane and are dealt with about the way we deal with Barking Dog. Or more harshly. Other races don't make priests out of their nuts, then give them money and follow them wherever they lead.

"I take it you're going to handle this, Garrett," Block said. He was nervous as hell. Most people are around the Dead Man. He has a considerable reputation, all of it deserved. He's done some amazing things since I've known him.

"We're considering it." I was fighting myself. Laziness and the desire not to get involved in another bizarre case warred with outrage. Outrage was ahead by a nose. The white knight had been on the shelf too long, his only chance to strut his stuff his rescue of Chodo's spooky daughter. But the white knight has his weaknesses. While he doesn't mind charging full tilt against a visible villain, rusty sword flailing, he hates having to hunt the villain down. Legwork buries his resolve faster than anything the hard boys can do by way of threat or violence. And this thing would be solved by legwork.

Relax, Garrett. It should not be so bad as you anticipate. I saw Block jump, so knew the Dead Man had included him in this time. Captain Block. I sense that you have a great deal hanging upon the outcome of the investigation you propose.

Block turned pale, took on kind of a green tinge around the edges. Having somebody talk right into your head is not a reassuring experience. Not the first time. And especially so when you're a guy who has a whole encyclopedia of corruption stashed and doesn't want it out where the world can see. I guess you'd say it was a measure of his distress and determination that he coped so well. He bounced back quickly. "Yes. There's a lot of heat from the top of the Hill. It'll get hotter every time some dizzy bitch gets herself offed."

You are certain there will be more?

"Damn straight. What do you think?"

I think you are correct. The Dead Man was all business now. The killings will continue and will come more and more rapidly until the people responsible are destroyed. I think we are up against something like nothing any of us has seen before. The evidence I glean from your minds tells me this is the work of a compulsive killer who cannot help doing what he is doing and who will have to do it again, ever more often, to appease the devil that drives him. But it also tells me he is not doing this without help.

I asked, "You figure there's a connection with—?" With what had happened at Morley's place. Only he cut me short.

Yes. We had something he didn't want handed to Block. Garrett, I see you shrinking from the legwork this will entail. You are correct in your estimate. This will require talking extensively with everyone even remotely involved. The families of the dead women. Their guards. The people who found them, and the Watchmen who followed up. People in the neighborhoods where the bodies were found.

He knows how to beat a guy down. I shrank with every word. I was the size of a mouse. I looked for a hole in the baseboard so I could scoot off and hide. He was talking about the rest of my life.

I do legwork because it's what I do; talk to people and talk to people and poke and prod until things start to happen. But I don't like it, partly because I'm lazy, but mostly because of the people. I never cease to be amazed and appalled by the sheer scope of human wickedness.

You are not considering our resources, Garrett.

Right. I was busy feeling sorry for myself.

We have the Watch. A thousand men for legwork. Is that not so, Captain? Will not every man of the Watch throw himself into this with the greatest vigor?

"It's our asses if we don't. They're already hinting. We have another five murders, I figure the Watch is out of business."

Break my heart.

I saw what the Dead Man meant. I'd been too involved in myself. The Watchmen would do anything to cover their asses. Maybe even their jobs. We just had to grab them by their instinct for self-preservation.

Then do as I tell you. I want to interview the bodyguards and the parents myself. Also those who found the corpses. Your men will canvass the neighborhoods where the women were found. Also the areas where they were seized. I doubt you will gain much cooperation, but cooperation is unnecessary. Even you Watchmen will have developed a rudimentary sense for when someone is not being forthcoming. Bring any such persons to me. I will open them up.

I marveled. The Dead Man makes me look hyper. Usually I have to threaten mayhem just to get his attention when there's work to do. He was jumping into this one headlong. I hadn't agreed to do anything yet. His enthusiasm suggested a secret agenda. Or he knew something he wasn't sharing. I eyed him narrowly as he continued with Block, telling him what times he wanted whom to come be interviewed.

Suspicion and paranoia become habits in this business. You take fits where you don't even trust yourself.

When the Dead Man takes a notion to snooze, he can hang in there for months. And when he's awake, he can go around the clock for days. He had that in mind. Poor old Dean was going to die answering the door.

Block had to borrow pen and paper to remember all his instructions. It took him half an hour to write them down. I paced and worried and wondered. Then the Dead Man dismissed the Watchman. I walked him to the front door.

"You'll never regret this, Garrett. I guarantee. We clean this up, you got a free pass for life."

"Sure." I know how long gratitude lasts. About as long as it takes for the bill to come due. Especially in TunFaire. The only guy I know who sticks to that kind of promise is Chodo Contague. He used to drive me crazy repaying imaginary debts.

That gave me a shiver. Old Chodo always paid his debts. And he owed me a big one.

I closed the door behind Block, put Chodo out of mind, went charging back to find out what the hell old Chuckles thought he was doing.

Not yet, Garrett. Dean! The Dead Man did not often extend his mindtouch beyond his room. That was a courtesy he extended us. Get rid of those harridans. Commend them to your nieces. We have a commission.

"His nieces?" I hurried into his room. "You want to create monsters?" Dean had a platoon of spinster nieces, all front-runners for Miss Homely TunFaire. They drove him to despair. Which was why he had conscripted himself as a full-time member of my household. He couldn't take it anymore. "Can you imagine that pack in pursuit of a mission from God?"