Lieutenant Arkham: Elves and Bullets Read Online Free PDF Page A

knock-out dress that reveals her bare back. A discreet clutch bag, sky-high heels, long lean legs. She’s no spring chicken, but this really is irrelevant. Without even realising it, I lick my lips.
    I sneak up on her, and peeking out from behind her shoulder I plant a kiss on her cheeks.
    “Arkham!” she exclaims. “You startled me.” She smiles. Dorisa smiles all the time.
    “You’re late.”
    “As usual. I’m sorry.”
    She gives me a push.
    “It’s always the same with you. I just got here anyway.”
    I proffer my arm, even though we look a bit ridiculous as a couple. It’s not that I don’t have any suits good enough for Fierno, it’s just that I simply didn’t have time to go home and get changed, or have a shower and a shave. With our chins up and a solemn countenance we make our entrance, aping the dignified behaviour of the rich magnates who count Fierno as their number one eatery.
    The
maître d'
does not alter his deadpan expression, but he scans me from head to foot. He’s almost certainly repulsed even though he doesn’t show it. Professional.
    “Do you have a re
th
erva
th
ion?” he asks with his oh-so-chic lisp, safe in the knowledge that the reservation bastion will drive off this piece of trash and his inexplicably attractive companion. After all, in his eyes, it’s just
inconceivable
for such a person to have booked a table in
his
restaurant.
    “Ye
th
, a table for two, the name’
th
Arkham.”
    Dorisa is almost crying with laughter, but she manages to stifle her giggles.
    “
Th
ir, I mu
th
t inform you that your, erm,
th
uit…”
    “Lieutenant Arkham, Federal Guard, old boy.”
    He jumps, within the constraints of etiquette.
    “This way, please.” He’s already forgotten his standard-issue lisp. Not so professional after all.
    “Let’
th
th
it,
th
weetheart,” I say to Dorisa, who finally collapses into a heap of giggles.

Thursday – the early bird catches the worm
    I wake up with a rather inelegant belch. Maybe I had too much to eat at dinner last night. After a few disoriented seconds, I recognise Sergeant Xevez’s bedroom. I rub my eyes and squint at the clock on the bedside table. A quarter past one. Good morning.
    Luckily, Dorisa’s sprog is with the grandparents. I’ve never known who the father is and I’ve never wanted to. Judging by Dorisa’s relaxed attitude to sex it could be anyone.
    I sit up, mentally preparing myself for a new day at work. She rolls over on the bed to face me; still awake, she looks as though she hasn’t slept a wink.
    “Arkham…”
    “Yes.”
    A long pause.
    “Do you ever think about…stopping? Settling down?”
    “Yeah, sometimes.” I’m lying, and she knows it.
    More silence.
    “I’d really like that, you know?”
    Silence, while I think what I’m going to say next.
    “If I change my mind, I promise you’ll be the first one to know.”
    “Okay.” She’s skeptical, and doesn’t bother hiding it. “Are you going?”
    “I’ve got work to do.” I nod. One lie after another. “At one in the morning?” She sighs.
    Pause.
    “You should stop playing games.”
    “You’re probably right, but what can I do?”
     
    The roar of the dog track always puts me in a good mood. Originally, it had been dug out of the layer separating Seventh Level from the next level—the ceiling, or the floor, depending on your point of view. Naturally, MetroPo knows exactly where it is, but the owner, that lardball khan Ugube, has always had some very influential support which keeps any interference at bay. And so, this clandestine dog track has survived the passage of time and various council administrations. The next race starts in fifteen minutes.
    The patrons would hold their own in a social message about racial integration. There’s always a bit of everything here, with the notable if not obvious exception of dwarves, they’d never gamble with ogres. Even a table of gremlins who, rendered senseless by the chaos of the gambling hall,