The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 3

As Larrinaga stepped past him, head bowed, Hathaway said, “The ambiance can only be viewed with Master Suterbilt’s permission, and that’s hard to come by. He’s aware of its value, you see. He keeps—well, there are six L’Escorial, ah, security personnel in the house at all times. Suterbilt doesn’t live there, but he visits frequently.”

“The last time I went there and asked to see Suzette,” Larrinaga said with his back to the others in the saloon, “they beat me unconscious and left me in the street.”

He drank in order to create a pause for effect. “I think,” he resumed, “I’ll go back there tonight.”

“Yes, I suspect you will do that,” Johann Vierziger said in a voice like the purr of a well-fed leopard. He set down the mug of cacao from which he’d been sipping with evident approval. “It’s the sort of thing a worthless bastard would do, after all.”

The little man’s enunciation was so precise that it was a moment before the words themselves registered on the others. Daun stifled a snort of laughter. Margulies raised an eyebrow; Sten Moden pointedly failed to react.

“Sure I am,” Larrinaga said loudly. “You bet, that’s just what I am.”

“Oh, you mustn’t say that, sir!” Georg Hathaway blurted. “Pedro isn’t that at all. You don’t know what he’s like inside!”

“Nor do you, Master Hathaway,” Vierziger said with sneering intonation. “All we know is the side he shows the world. That side is a sniveling, self-pitying bastard.”

The words wouldn’t have cut as deep if there’d been emotion behind them instead of cold disdain. Larrinaga winced as though he’d been stroked with a barbed whip. The mug trembled. He set it down and walked to the outer door.

Barbour looked at the local man, calculating the door’s opening against the movements of figures in his holographic display. There was no need to keep the armored door closed; but there might have been, and Barbour would have said so if there were.

The door closed behind Larrinaga. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that, good sir,” Hathaway murmured miserably, though he didn’t look directly at Vierziger as he spoke.

“Why, Georg?” Evie Hathaway demanded. “Does the truth bother you so much? Has saying, ‘Oh, Pedro just needs a little time to get straightened out,’ made things better? For anybody?”

“Well, he blames himself for having sold the house,” Georg said. “And it was Pedro’s fault, I know, partying with Master Suterbilt who’d been trying for years to buy the ambiance and Suzette wouldn’t hear of selling to him. But it’s a shame that one mistake should ruin his life.”

“The major’s coming back,” Barbour called from the foyer. He looked toward the policemen and grinned. It was the first smile any of his teammates had seen on his face. “He’s returning your shock baton, gentlemen.”

“One mistake can ruin more than a man’s life, Master Hathaway,” Vierziger said to the innkeeper. “It can ruin all eternity.”

He smiled tightly, terribly. “Of course, I’ve made many more mistakes than one.”

Coke entered the lobby. He closed the door behind him, then rested his back against the cool metal surface.

“Any excitement, sir?” Margulies asked.

“Matthew, please, Mary,” Coke said with his eyes closed. “And no, nothing to speak of. The usual run of port-city foolishness, nothing serious.”

“What’s the next order of business, Matthew?” Moden asked. “We continue to wait?”

“I could use one of those beers,” Coke said, snapping alert again. He strode into the saloon alcove. From there he continued, “Yeah, we wait. I figure it’ll be days before either side makes an approach. Two gangs may make this a tough place, but it sure isn’t an organized one.”

“Is organized better, Master Soldier?” Evie Hathaway demanded from her chair.

“Evie, please,” said Georg.

“Yes, ma’am,” Coke said, taking the mug the innkeeper had drawn him. “It is. Highly developed parasites see to it that the host body stays healthy. Less developed ones, roundworms and the like, are often fatal. Cantilucca has a bad case of roundworms, I’m afraid.”

“And your prescription?” the woman said. She’d stopped knitting so that she could turn to look directly at the Frisian leader.

Coke drank, then shrugged. “Arsenic or the equivalent, Mistress Hathaway,” he said. “The trick is to titrate the dose, of course, so that you only get the worms.”

“In the short term, Matthew,” Mary Margulies said, “would you have any objection to me doing a little sight-seeing in the countryside? Tomorrow, maybe?”

Coke shook his head “No, we need to learn as much about the place as we can,” he said. “Potosi may be the head of the planet, but it’s not the whole place. Ah—I’d rather you didn’t go any distance alone.”

“I’ll go along, sir,” Robert Barbour said. “That is, if you’ll permit me. I’ll have the AI in this console dialed in to take care of ordinary business in an hour or two, now that you’re back.”

“No, that’s fine,” Coke said “Just remember, we’re in a fluid situation. Things might happen pretty fast. And I’m Matthew.”