Johannes Cabal the Detective by Jonathan L. Howard Page A

more important things to do right that moment than murder new adjutants. “Is there any word of Cabal?”
    “The chap who beat you?” Hasso finally caught the count’s look. “Or should I say, didn’t beat you,” he added hastily. He winked conspiratorially. “Ahhh. Oho!”
    “Is there?” demanded the count.
    “No. Nobody’s seen him. As soon as he beat … as soon as he’d finished here he just vanished into thin air. Some sort of magician, isn’t he? Izzy wizzy, wands and all that? Rabbits?”
    “He’s a necromancer, you idiot, not a children’s entertainer. He can no more vanish in a puff of smoke than you can. Regrettably. Are all the ports being monitored? The borders? Mountain passes?”
    “There is a rebellion going on out there, old man. Our chaps are terribly, terribly busy crushing the proletariat. But fear not, the orders have been sent out. Just have to hope that he shows his face.”
    B usiness or pleasure?” asked the customs man.
    “Pleasure,” replied Cabal. “The pure animal pleasure of presenting these government documents to my counterparts in Katamenia.” The officer looked at him blankly, and Cabal decided that this wasn’t going to be a meeting of minds. “A little joke. A very little joke. I’m on government business.”
    “Oh? Pertaining to what?”
    “Agricultural policy. I’m not permitted to say more.”
    “Very fortuitous timing, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir,” said the officer, riffling through the stolen papers for the fourth time. Cabal wasn’t worried. The man obviously wasn’t reading them. “What, with all this trouble? You just happen to be leaving the country. Very fortuitous.”
    “Yes,” said Cabal, pleasantly. The customs man was clearly trying to imply that Cabal was some sort of moral coward for abandoning his country in its hour of need. Cabal didn’t mind implying exactly the same thing back. Anything to annoy the hirelings. “Isn’t it? Aboard a beautiful new ship like the Princess Hortense , too. Lucky old me, hmm?”
    “Yes. Very, very lucky. Fortuitously lucky.” The officer seemed to believe that it was possible to win some sort of implication prize if he kept it up long enough.
    “You have it there in a nutshell. Are you finished with my hand baggage?”
    The officer waggled his moustache and looked in Cabal’s Gladstone. “What’s this?” he asked when he found the roll of surgical tools.
    Cabal quickly undid the knot and unrolled it. Sitting in a spare pocket, the switchblade looked like it belonged. “Surgical equipment. My job sometimes includes pathological examinations of sick animals.”
    “You’re a veterinarian?” The officer was suddenly interested.
    “In a manner—”
    “Do you do parrots?”
    “Not by choice.”
    “What’s scales and falling feathers?”
    Cabal paused. “Is this a riddle?”
    “Great scales, like … sort of … dandruff.”
    “Is this a test?”
    “No, no.” The officer shook his head urgently. “My Liese’s got mange.”
    “Liese being your parrot?”
    “I thought I’d said that? Or at least as much?”
    “So you did, eventually. I’m only licensed to dissect cows and sheep,” lied Cabal, having to use more inventiveness than seemed necessary or fair after all he’d been through. “I’m afraid I know nothing of”—he endeavoured to sound knowledgeable—“exotics.”
    The customs officer looked at him askance and sniffed. “Well, that’s a shame. Thank you, Herr Meissner. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
    “Not at all. We do what we do for the good of the state, yes?”
    “Of course. The good of the state. Enjoy your trip, sir.”
    “Thank you.” As Cabal walked out of the customs building, he had the feeling that could have gone a lot better. Then he saw the Princess Hortense and forgot all about the customs officer.
    The customs officer, however, hadn’t forgotten all about him .
    L ieutenant Hasso stamped into Marechal’s presence and performed