mad idea, indeed. Most
people looking for free cats are furriers, violin makers, or those guys
who turn up at the edge of crowds, selling pigs in a blanket and other
theoretically meat-based products of mysterious provenance.
Belinda shrugged, then set sail toward the two men trying to set up
according to two different plans.
The squabbling ceased instantly, and was heard no more. The two
clowns turned almost as pale as Belinda herself.
You could look her in the eye and know, absolutely, that you were
nose to nose with swift, remorseless death. There would be no appeals,
no continuances, no stays, no reprieves, no commutations, no mercy.
This death no more cared for your soul or emotions than it did for
those of a roach.
Chodo had had that knack, too
.
But he'd indulged in
random
acts of commutation. All of which had worked out in the long run. Where
was
the old man?
Melondie Kadare dropped onto my shoulder. “You’re a real bright
candle, aren’t you?”
“What did I do now?”
“You shut the window after you let us in. We need to come and go.
Unless you’re figuring on getting reports from the rat king through
divine inspiration.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I hadn’t thought that part through. But I’m not used to
deploying a special-needs entourage. “I’ll fix it. Have you seen an old
man in a fancy wheelchair, looks like he might be dead?”
“No. The rats might have. They’re all over. Ask John Stretch.”
“I can take a hint.”
“Really? Amaze me.”
Is that a female thing? A youth thing? Or am I just a lightning rod
for cynicism and sarcasm?
I cracked the same window a few inches, then roamed around trying to
spot villainy before it happened. And looked for Chodo. I wanted to see
what Belinda planned to roll out.
Melondie Kadare buzzed up behind my right ear. “When are you going
to open that window, ace?”
“I just did, bug. You were there. You saw me.”
“Oh. Yeah. I did, didn’t I? Well, it ain’t open no more, stud. And
Aliki Nadkarni wants in.”
She was right. Some moron had closed the window. I opened it, then
headed for the kitchen.
I didn’t get there. Melondie brought her henchwoman’s report about
what John Stretch had heard from his rats. Wouldn’t it be grand to
leave out the middlepixies and middleratfolk? Where could I get a fast
lesson in conversational rat?
The information was good, considering. It gave me a fair idea of the
layout, including more than I wanted to know about odors in the
basements and under the building where there were no basements.
I learned where Chodo was stashed. A dark pie pantry, halfway
underground. Like an idiot cousin who had to be kept out of sight so he
wouldn’t embarrass the family.
Nobody paid attention to anyone who was inside already. You must be
all right. You’d been checked out. I could go anywhere I wanted.
Melondie Kadare caught up as I headed for Chodo’s hiding place.
“That window is closed again, Big Boy. You want to do something about
that? Like jamming it in its frame?”
I set my pail of cats down. “You guys wait here.” Like I thought
they’d stay put. Just because their behavior had been exemplary. From
the human point of view.
Hello, Garrett. The relationship between cats and people has just
one dimension: the value to the cat, at a given moment, of a handy set
of opposable thumbs. I opened the window, stood back, waited. Pixies
zipped in and out. Rats slunk along the base of the wall. Or rattled
around inside it. No one else noticed. One of the setup queens came by,
spotted the window. “Darn it! Who keeps opening this thing?”
“I do. And I’m not in a charitable mood. Next time I find it closed
I’ll throw somebody through it. You get the picture?”
The young man looked willing to fight. Briefly. “It’s too darned
cold…” His belligerence faded. I’d been about to recommend a place he
could go if he wanted
to warm up. But
the
window
suddenly wasn’t worth a fight.
A kitten mewed and
people looking for free cats are furriers, violin makers, or those guys
who turn up at the edge of crowds, selling pigs in a blanket and other
theoretically meat-based products of mysterious provenance.
Belinda shrugged, then set sail toward the two men trying to set up
according to two different plans.
The squabbling ceased instantly, and was heard no more. The two
clowns turned almost as pale as Belinda herself.
You could look her in the eye and know, absolutely, that you were
nose to nose with swift, remorseless death. There would be no appeals,
no continuances, no stays, no reprieves, no commutations, no mercy.
This death no more cared for your soul or emotions than it did for
those of a roach.
Chodo had had that knack, too
.
But he'd indulged in
random
acts of commutation. All of which had worked out in the long run. Where
was
the old man?
Melondie Kadare dropped onto my shoulder. “You’re a real bright
candle, aren’t you?”
“What did I do now?”
“You shut the window after you let us in. We need to come and go.
Unless you’re figuring on getting reports from the rat king through
divine inspiration.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I hadn’t thought that part through. But I’m not used to
deploying a special-needs entourage. “I’ll fix it. Have you seen an old
man in a fancy wheelchair, looks like he might be dead?”
“No. The rats might have. They’re all over. Ask John Stretch.”
“I can take a hint.”
“Really? Amaze me.”
Is that a female thing? A youth thing? Or am I just a lightning rod
for cynicism and sarcasm?
I cracked the same window a few inches, then roamed around trying to
spot villainy before it happened. And looked for Chodo. I wanted to see
what Belinda planned to roll out.
Melondie Kadare buzzed up behind my right ear. “When are you going
to open that window, ace?”
“I just did, bug. You were there. You saw me.”
“Oh. Yeah. I did, didn’t I? Well, it ain’t open no more, stud. And
Aliki Nadkarni wants in.”
She was right. Some moron had closed the window. I opened it, then
headed for the kitchen.
I didn’t get there. Melondie brought her henchwoman’s report about
what John Stretch had heard from his rats. Wouldn’t it be grand to
leave out the middlepixies and middleratfolk? Where could I get a fast
lesson in conversational rat?
The information was good, considering. It gave me a fair idea of the
layout, including more than I wanted to know about odors in the
basements and under the building where there were no basements.
I learned where Chodo was stashed. A dark pie pantry, halfway
underground. Like an idiot cousin who had to be kept out of sight so he
wouldn’t embarrass the family.
Nobody paid attention to anyone who was inside already. You must be
all right. You’d been checked out. I could go anywhere I wanted.
Melondie Kadare caught up as I headed for Chodo’s hiding place.
“That window is closed again, Big Boy. You want to do something about
that? Like jamming it in its frame?”
I set my pail of cats down. “You guys wait here.” Like I thought
they’d stay put. Just because their behavior had been exemplary. From
the human point of view.
Hello, Garrett. The relationship between cats and people has just
one dimension: the value to the cat, at a given moment, of a handy set
of opposable thumbs. I opened the window, stood back, waited. Pixies
zipped in and out. Rats slunk along the base of the wall. Or rattled
around inside it. No one else noticed. One of the setup queens came by,
spotted the window. “Darn it! Who keeps opening this thing?”
“I do. And I’m not in a charitable mood. Next time I find it closed
I’ll throw somebody through it. You get the picture?”
The young man looked willing to fight. Briefly. “It’s too darned
cold…” His belligerence faded. I’d been about to recommend a place he
could go if he wanted
to warm up. But
the
window
suddenly wasn’t worth a fight.
A kitten mewed and
Similar Books
