driving back and forth to the airport and taking kickbacks from bars and hotels—and you'll get it in cash."
"I still need a figure. After all, I'll have to use my own vehicle. I gotta figure my expenses."
"How much are you making now?"
"Counting all the perks?” said Gin. “It comes to maybe 600 credits a week."
"I'll double it."
Gin extended his hand across the table. “Deal!"
Chandler took the proffered hand. “Deal,” he replied. “You're on my payroll, starting this minute."
"Great!” said Gin. There was a momentary silence. “Uh ... what do we do now?"
"We finish our drinks and I find a place to sleep."
"And then what?"
"Eventually I wake up."
"I mean, what do I do?"
"You're on call around the clock,” answered Chandler. “I expect to see you parked outside of wherever I spend the night when I wake up in the morning. I also expect you to keep your eyes and ears open. If you hear of anyone who's looking for someone in my line of work, you tell me. Even more important: if you see anyone watching me, you let me know."
"Right,” said Gin. He signaled the waiter for another drink.
"And you show up sober,” added Chandler.
"You got it."
"By the way, I don't plan to confine my activities just to Port Marrakech. Have you ever been to Port Samarkand or Port Maracaibo?"
"I know ‘em almost as well as I know Port Marrakech,” Gin assured him.
"Good,” said Chandler. “That should prove helpful.” He paused. “What about Hades?"
"You don't want any part of Hades, Whistler,” said Gin. “They got nothing but these blue-skinned aliens there—Blue Devils, we call ‘em. Even if you got a contract to knock one of them off, you'd never be able to tell ‘em apart."
"You've been there?"
"No, but I've seen my share of Blue Devils. Ugly-looking sons of bitches."
"Do any humans live on Hades?"
"Not to my knowledge,” answered Gin. He shrugged. “Hell, who'd want to?"
Chandler didn't want to display too much interest in Hades, so he let the subject drop and spent another twenty minutes asking questions about the other two moons before he decided it was time to leave.
He checked into one of the better rooming houses, paid for a week in advance, and went to his room, confident that he'd made a decent start; he was in no hurry to get to Hades until he learned more about it. He'd go through the motions of setting up business on Port Marrakech, and in a day or a week or a month, Gin or someone else would tell him what he needed to know about Hades and the mysterious Oracle. In the meantime, he might even accept a contract or two, just to prove the authenticity to his cover story.
He had shaved and showered, and was just about to nod off to sleep when the vidphone blinked.
"Yeah?” he said, staring at a blank screen.
"You are the Whistler, are you not?” said a voice that might or might not have been human.
"My name is Chandler."
"You are the Whistler,” repeated the voice tonelessly. It paused for a moment. “A word of advice, Whistler: go home."
"Who is this?” demanded Chandler, trying without success to bring up an image on the screen.
"I will not repeat my warning, Whistler,” said the voice. “I know who you are, I know why you are here, and I tell you that your mission is destined to fail. If you are still here tomorrow morning, your life is at hazard."
Then the connection went dead, and Chandler allowed himself the luxury of a satisfied smile.
[Back to Table of Contents]
4.
Gin was waiting for him outside the rooming house when Chandler emerged the next morning. He had traded his company vehicle for his own somewhat battered landcar.
"Where to?” he asked as Chandler climbed into the back of the vehicle.
"Twice around the block."
Gin merely grunted and did as he was told. When he had finished, and was once again parked in front of the rooming house, he turned to Chandler.
"No one's watching us."
"No one's following us,” Chandler corrected him. “There's a
"I still need a figure. After all, I'll have to use my own vehicle. I gotta figure my expenses."
"How much are you making now?"
"Counting all the perks?” said Gin. “It comes to maybe 600 credits a week."
"I'll double it."
Gin extended his hand across the table. “Deal!"
Chandler took the proffered hand. “Deal,” he replied. “You're on my payroll, starting this minute."
"Great!” said Gin. There was a momentary silence. “Uh ... what do we do now?"
"We finish our drinks and I find a place to sleep."
"And then what?"
"Eventually I wake up."
"I mean, what do I do?"
"You're on call around the clock,” answered Chandler. “I expect to see you parked outside of wherever I spend the night when I wake up in the morning. I also expect you to keep your eyes and ears open. If you hear of anyone who's looking for someone in my line of work, you tell me. Even more important: if you see anyone watching me, you let me know."
"Right,” said Gin. He signaled the waiter for another drink.
"And you show up sober,” added Chandler.
"You got it."
"By the way, I don't plan to confine my activities just to Port Marrakech. Have you ever been to Port Samarkand or Port Maracaibo?"
"I know ‘em almost as well as I know Port Marrakech,” Gin assured him.
"Good,” said Chandler. “That should prove helpful.” He paused. “What about Hades?"
"You don't want any part of Hades, Whistler,” said Gin. “They got nothing but these blue-skinned aliens there—Blue Devils, we call ‘em. Even if you got a contract to knock one of them off, you'd never be able to tell ‘em apart."
"You've been there?"
"No, but I've seen my share of Blue Devils. Ugly-looking sons of bitches."
"Do any humans live on Hades?"
"Not to my knowledge,” answered Gin. He shrugged. “Hell, who'd want to?"
Chandler didn't want to display too much interest in Hades, so he let the subject drop and spent another twenty minutes asking questions about the other two moons before he decided it was time to leave.
He checked into one of the better rooming houses, paid for a week in advance, and went to his room, confident that he'd made a decent start; he was in no hurry to get to Hades until he learned more about it. He'd go through the motions of setting up business on Port Marrakech, and in a day or a week or a month, Gin or someone else would tell him what he needed to know about Hades and the mysterious Oracle. In the meantime, he might even accept a contract or two, just to prove the authenticity to his cover story.
He had shaved and showered, and was just about to nod off to sleep when the vidphone blinked.
"Yeah?” he said, staring at a blank screen.
"You are the Whistler, are you not?” said a voice that might or might not have been human.
"My name is Chandler."
"You are the Whistler,” repeated the voice tonelessly. It paused for a moment. “A word of advice, Whistler: go home."
"Who is this?” demanded Chandler, trying without success to bring up an image on the screen.
"I will not repeat my warning, Whistler,” said the voice. “I know who you are, I know why you are here, and I tell you that your mission is destined to fail. If you are still here tomorrow morning, your life is at hazard."
Then the connection went dead, and Chandler allowed himself the luxury of a satisfied smile.
[Back to Table of Contents]
4.
Gin was waiting for him outside the rooming house when Chandler emerged the next morning. He had traded his company vehicle for his own somewhat battered landcar.
"Where to?” he asked as Chandler climbed into the back of the vehicle.
"Twice around the block."
Gin merely grunted and did as he was told. When he had finished, and was once again parked in front of the rooming house, he turned to Chandler.
"No one's watching us."
"No one's following us,” Chandler corrected him. “There's a
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