Look Out For Space (Seven For Space) (15 page)

"Can't say I have."

"Sounds like you don't know much about showbiz!"

"I don't … because I'm not
in
it."

He looked confused. "But you do extinct animals, and your head is on backwards!"

"The two are not related," I told him. "I don't do an act. I'm here for a buy."

Hogg's eyes narrowed. He jumped up to lock the door. Then he checked the viewvents. Finally he circled me and clicked his big teeth together. He brought his head close to mine and spoke in a low voice.

"Who put you onto me?"

"Nobody I'd care to mention."

"I need a name."

"And I need to protect my contacts."

Silence for a full minute. Harry was a nervous man.

"What makes you think I'm a seller?"

"Look, Hogg, let's drop the routine. You've got High-L for sale and I want to buy some. Let's start there."

Hogg sat down again and leaned back. His eyes were slits.

"How do I know you're legit? You
could
be the law."

"My name's Space. Private op. Here's my ID."

I flipped open my worn nearleather wallet and he checked my stat, which satisfied him.

He relaxed. "So you're a peep hooked on L?"

"That's about the size of it."

"How come your head's on backwards?"

"It's too complicated to explain," I said. "All that counts right now is that you have some L and I want to make a buy. Do we deal?"

He nodded. "How much do you need?"

I told him how much.

And we made the deal.

When I left Harry Hogg's office I had the stuff I needed: enough High-L to buy some very special talent.

Within the hour I was aboard a warper for Bailey.

Halfcat's yellow eyes glared at me. "Why are you here?"

"I want to hire you," I said.

"To shag some rocks?"

"No. This is a lot bigger," I told him. "I'll lay it out short and simple: I want you to blow up Pendorf Wrenhurst's joint on the Moon … with him
in
it."

Halfcat twitched his ears. His upper lip skinned back, revealing his yellow fangs. He was nobody's sweetheart.

"You want him snuffed, eh?"

"That's what I want."

"Why come to me?"

"Because the law won't touch him. Wrenhurst is a known worm slaver, and I'm convinced he's behind a lot of recent kidnappings. He also murdered my client, Brother Thaddius, to divert me from the case. Then he killed a copmouse pal of mine who had learned too much. And that was
after
he had me sent to a death planet in the Black Gulfs."

"How come you're still alive? Nobody comes back from the Gulfs."

"The details of my escape are beside the point. I need to know if you'll take on the Wrenhurst job. Yes or no?"

We were in Halfcat's cave on Bailey, and I'd had a long fugg ride that day which meant I was in a testy mood. I wasn't up to verbal fencing. If Halfcat wouldn't go after Wrenhurst, I'd find somebody who would. But I knew I couldn't cut it alone; the operation needed an outside push.

Halfcat scratched his belly. "If I say yes, what do I get out of it?"

"High-L. I made a prime buy before I left Mars."

"How prime is prime?"

I showed him a pac of L. He tested it with the tip of his long pink tongue, and his ears twitched.

"You get this pac now, and the rest after you put Wrenhurst out of business."

Halfcat nodded. "I'll do the cooljob on him. But first, we buddy. We snort L together."

"I told you before, I never take the hard stuff."

"And I'm telling
you
that if you want Wrenhurst cooled, you snort with me. That's flat."

His blazing yellow eyes told me he meant exactly what he was saying.

So I agreed to snort.

We hunkered down on the floor of the cave and he tipped some of the colorless powder into my hand.

"You first," he said.

I inhaled the drug, and heard Halfcat begin to laugh.

I'd been suckered.

His laugher increased to a demon's howl and the superpotent drug assaulted my mind.

I spun away from the cave … the planet … the galaxy. My skin rippled and expanded … began to glow … changed from white to lambent gold … to shimmering silver …

I had three heads and four arms and six legs …

I could see into the heart of an atom … feel the pulsebeat of eternity in my rioting blood …

I was a rocket, searing out to the stars in a wash of raw jetflame …

I was an immensity of suns, turning like great fireclocks in the black of space …

I was the mouth of God … swallowing suns and moons and planets … gorging myself on galaxies …

I was devouring the universe!

I was nothing … within nothing … inside of nothing.

I focused my eyes.

The redhead was there, smiling at me. "Hello, Sam," she said.

I sat up dizzily and discovered that my wrists and ankles were bound with closerope.

"I've been flummoxed," I said. "Tricked! Played for a sucker!"

"That's true," said the redhead.

I gave her a hard stare. "Halfcat works for you."

"We work
together,
" she said. "He brought you here."

"Where's here?"

"My castle. Home sweet home. On Pluto."

I looked around. Walls of heavy stone. Tall windows cut from raw rock. A high, vaulted ceiling lit by tapers.

"You killed Brother Thad, didn't you?"

"Perhaps," she smiled.

"And you killed Sylvester Pennington, and
you're
the one behind the worm kidnappings!"

"What if I admitted that all this is true? What good would it do you? Your somewhat tarnished and doubtless unprofitable career as a private detective is about to cease."

"I always like to have my questions answered," I told her. "Such as, where's Halfcat?"

"Working," she told me. "Picking up a few stray rocks."

I looked at her for a long moment of silence. Then I said flatly, "You're not what you seem. You're not real flesh and blood."

"Not in this form," she admitted. "This present body is an astral projection which I use to good purpose. I create the illusion of a redhaired Earthwoman with erect nipples, and send her to do my bidding. So you are quite correct about the unreality of what you see."

"Drop the projection. I want to see what you're
really
like."

She smiled. "Very well. You have the right to know who's going to end your life."

And the redhead vanished.

In her place, stooped and crooked of bone, was an old, ravaged hag in a foul-smelling robe of rags and patches. Her rheumy eyes were buried in loose hanging gray flesh and her insucked, toothless mouth gaped at me in a horrible grin.

"Lordy!" I breathed.

"I'm Old Peg," she cackled, her thin bones shaking with amused delight. "A free lance witch, one of the last of my breed."

Confusion swept over me. "I don't get it," I said. "Nothing makes sense. Why would a witch-for-hire
do
all this? Unless …"

"Unless what, Mr. Space?"

"Unless you're working for someone else. Someone with a motive for kidnapping, theft and murder."

She cackled again. "Hi diggidy dee … it's time to deal with thee." She was singing as she moved to a dark corner of the stone chamber to pluck up a long-handled ax. The sharp blade gleamed as she swung it toward me. "Hi diggidy dun … it's time for blood to run!"

I scrabbled crab-like away from her, until my stomach was against hard stone.

She advanced on me with the ax. "Now you won't have to worry about your head being on backwards," she rasped. "I'll
remove
it with this!"

I struggled to loosen the closeropes on my wrists and legs. No use. She had me.

"Goodbye, Sammy!" And Old Peg raised the ax.

I braced myself for a death blow.

But it never came.

A .20-40 cutbeam slicer belched fire from the nearest window and Old Peg howled in pain, dropping the heavy ax and clawing at her bony chest.

The laser blast had sliced into her heart, and she folded down to the cold stone floor. Her eyes, gone sightless with death, were open and staring.

Susan Sunbright, born Emma Irmaline Gretch, untied me.

"How did you get here?" I asked her. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I love you, Sam," she told me. "And I keep track of the men I love."

"That's no answer," I said.

"I had a dream about you, that you were in great danger. So I contacted O'Malley when I couldn't reach you at your office. He said you told him you were going after Wrenhurst. One of his men had tailed you as far as the planet Bailey …"

She was chafing my wrists to restore circulation as she talked."O'Malley's man lost you on Bailey. He was on a fugg, and it bit him."

"They tend to do that," I nodded.

"Anyhow, I guessed you were going to see Halfcat, for help against Wrenhurst."

"Correct," I said. "But he crossed me. He was in cahoots with the witch."

"I followed Halfcat's ship when it left Bailey. Followed it over here to the castle. I saw Halfcat hand you over to Old Peg. After he took off again, I climbed the wall and found you here."

"You're a real peach," I said.

And I gave her a kiss.

Then she gave me a kiss.

Which gave me an erection.

Which she joyfully dealt with.

And believe me, having Susan Sunbright deal with your erection is better than having your head chopped off by a foul smelling witch.

There's just no comparison.

When I checked into Bubble City my vidservice told me that a Mr. Oliver of Chicago had left an urgent message: CAN PUT HEAD ON STRAIGHT. COME AT ONCE. NATE.

It was welcome news since I was plenty fed up with having my nog reversed.

Susan went to Chicago with me. I'd told her all about Nate and she wanted to meet him. He fascinated her. "I love eccentrics," she told me.

"Nate
is
lovable," I grinned.

But when we walked into his living quarters we got a shock.

There, facing us (all fat, all jolly), were
four
Nate Olivers!

"What's going on?" I snapped.

"We're all from different parallel universes," explained one of them.

"That's right, Sam," said another. "The time machine went haywire."

"And we all ended up in the same universe," said the third Nate."It's embarrassing."

"Which one of you sent me the message about my head?"

"I did, Sam," said the fourth Oliver. "Your head is
my
responsibility. I belong here. The others don't."

"Well, what are you going to do with 'em?" I wanted to know.

His fat cheeks glowed with confidence. "Oh, I've worked out a way to send them all back. Won't take a minute. If you'll just wait here with this young lady …"

"Susan Sunbright," I put in.

"Yes … with Miss Sunbright. I'll be back to you in a jiffy."

"I'm not sure which me I am," said one of the other three Olivers.

'I'll sort you all out," Nate promised, herding the trio of his otherselves into the lab.

Susan and I were alone. She shook her head. "You were right, he certainly
is
eccentric."

"Yeah. His machines mess up on him a lot of the time, but Nate's a real genius. He merits respect."

A loud crackle and hum burst from the lab. We could see sparks under the door. Smoke seeped out.

"I hope he's all right," said Susan.

"If he isn't, my dome stays reversed."

But Nate was fine. He walked back to us, dusting his pink hands.

"Everything's hunky dory," he said. "I got 'em all shipped back to where they belong." He patted me on the shoulder. "Your head comes next."

"Great," I said.

And we followed him into the lab.

Nate told me to sit down in what looked like a 20th century phone booth. He clapped some wires on me, attached straps to my arms and legs, then moved to a switch panel.

"Here we go," he said.

And he threw the switch.

The booth began shaking. My teeth rattled. Everything went black. Then red. Then purple.

The shaking stopped.

My head was on straight again.

"My, that was impressive," remarked Susan. She gave Nate a kiss on the cheek.

He blushed.

"Dames fluster him," I said, and we went back into Nate's living quarters.

I sat down on Barbra Streisand. Nate sat on Burt Lancaster and Susan stretched out on W.C. Fields.

"This is how Nate makes his living," I explained to her. "He restores old movie stars. Makes chairs and sofas out of 'em."

Oliver nodded, his chins bouncing. "I broke Robert Redford's leg last week. Looks like I'll have to rebuild his kneecap."

"You're a remarkable man, Mr. Oliver," said Susan. "Is there no end to your talents?"

Nate blushed again and offered us some fruit wine.

After two glasses we all began to giggle. Having my head on straight again was cause for celebration and I was in a mood to relax. But Nate wanted to know all about the case. Had I solved it yet?

"Pendorf Wrenhurst is behind everything," I said. "A rock rustler named Halfcat works for him, and so did a free lance witch named Old Peg. She tried to chop me, but Susan put her away."

We drank a toast to Susan.

"Is this Wrenhurst still at large?"

"Yep," I said. "And I've got to figure a new way to nail him. He recently arranged for the murder of a copmouse associate of mine."

"Lieutenant Sylvester Pennington?"

"Yeah." I raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know his name?"

"Because he's alive," said Nate. "I met him when I projected myself into your office. He was waiting there to see you."

"When was this."

"Let's see …" Nate pursed his lips. "It would have to be later today. Your wallchron said four."

I wanted to know how Nate got to my office.

"My time machine is very unstable. I never know just where I'll end up when I use it. I was fiddling with it last week and got myself projected into your office today. Pennington was in there alone, waiting. I told him I was a friend of yours."