"I can do it. The alternative is unacceptable."

A sneer radiated from that pile of lifeless lard.

"He's the one made it him or me."

You need not justify. The day has been inevitable for some time. He and I knew. Mr. Dotes and Mr. Tharpe knew. Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler knew. Only you insisted on pretending otherwise.

Hell, I'd known it, too. I'd hoped it would come to a more clear-cut case of good guy against bad guy, though.

Take care, Garrett.

"I plan to."

41

I followed Winger once we hit the street, lost in my own thoughts. After a few blocks, she asked, "You scared?"

"Yes." I was. Nothing to be ashamed of. A body who wasn't afraid of a Chodo Contague was a damned fool. Or worse.

"Thought you were a heavyweight tough guy."

"I eat nails with acid on them for breakfast. Then I kick thunder-lizards around for my morning workout. Hell, I'm so tough I don't change my socks but once a month. But tough don't help when the kingpin is after you and your only pal can't get out of his chair to help."

She was amused

I asked, "You sure you know who Chodo is?"

"Sure. Bad mojo" She laughed. "Doing him will be good for my reputation."

"His reputation doesn't bother you?"

"Who needs to live forever?"

I slipped the little padded case out of my pocket. I eyed those little bottles. The red one, the deadliest, seemed to sparkle all by itself.

"What's that?"

"Something left over from another job. Might come in handy."

"So don't tell me."

"I won't. Knowing you, you might knock me over the head and grab them. This way I can feel confident that if you pull something, you'll kill yourself messing with them."

"You're a suspicious wart."

"Helped me reach the ripe old age of thirty. Where the hell are we going?" She was headed south instead of north.

"I told you, I made arrangements. Figured we'd come in from a direction nobody'll expect."

"Like what?"

"I got us a boat. We'll go up the river to the Portage. From there it's four miles over a range of hills, mostly through vineyards, to Chodo's place."

I groaned. I was dragging already. Every ache and pain was still with me. I'd taken a powder for those and the headache, but relief was marginal.

"I take it you ain't overwhelmed by my brilliance."

"Ha. That's the trouble with being a boss, Winger. Whatever you do, you're always in the wrong. Whatever you do is dumb and could be done better, faster, cheaper, by your minions."

She got a laugh out of that. "I noticed that when I went to work for Easterman. My smarts level went way up."

"Probably because you knew he had to be dumb to hire you."

"You got such a line of sweet talk."

The boat was one of those usually devoted to ferrying people to the east bank, to the side sometimes called Nether TunFaire. Winger had chosen one run by a breed family with no prejudice against rowing upriver if we paid in advance. I paid up and snuggled down amongst cargo and sails and closed my eyes. I might still get my nap.

Winger seemed content to do the same.

The chief ferryman stirred me with his toe. His name was Skid. He was about a hundred years old but spry. The river life was healthy. I snorted and gurgled and otherwise made it seem my intelligence approximated that of a turtle, cracked an eye, and asked, "We there already?"

"Nope. Got a boat following us. Shouldn't be." Maybe Skid was still alive because he hadn't used up his ration of words.

Winger was one of those freaks of nature who just open their eyes and are wide-awake. She was upright, looking aft, before I managed to sit up.

"Where?" I could see lights back there, sure. On about two hundred boats, most of them just like our own, what landlubbers politely call bumboats, home and business for the families operating them.

Skid got down so I could sight along his arm. "Skylar Zed's tub. Works the east-west, same as us. Don't come north.

"Oh " I couldn't see the boat he wanted me to see, let alone tell who owned it. I faked it. I told Winger, "This is getting irritating.

She grunted. She'd sprawled out again, completely without self-consciousness. She reminded me of Saucerhead more and more. Yet she was different. Less intense, more relaxed. Tharpe does worry about what people might think. Winger plain didn't care—or faked that so well it made no difference, I guess when you're as oversize as she is, you make adjustments.

I looked some more. At least in the light of the running lamps there was nothing wrong with the way she looked. She was just big. "Hey. Tell me about Winger." I wasn't sleepy anymore.

"What's to tell? I was born and I'm still around. What you see is what you get."

"The usual stuff. Where are you from? Who were your people? How come you're out here with me instead of holed up somewhere with a house full of little Wingers?"

"Where'd you come from, Garrett? Who're your people? How come you're here instead of back to your place with a pack of little Garretts?"

"I see. Only I don't mind telling." I told her about my family, none of whom are alive. I told about my years in the fleet Marines. I tried but couldn't really explain what I was doing on the boat. Not in terms she understood. "As for kids, I like them fine but I think I'd make a lousy father. I still have some growing up to do myself, at least by the accepted standards."

"That ain't fair, Garrett."

"Hey, I was just passing the time. You don't have to tell me anything."

"We going to be friends, Garrett?"

"I don't know. Could be. Hasn't a lot gotten in the way so far."

She chewed that some, leaned back, spat over the side, turned to check our tail, laid down again. "How old you figure me for?"

"My age. A little younger, maybe. Twenty-eight?"

"You're more generous than most. I'm twenty-six. I do have a kid. Be almost twelve now. I couldn't handle that life. I walked. It's usually the man leaves the woman with the brats."

I didn't say anything. Not much you can say when somebody tells you something like that. Nothing that doesn't sound judgmental or insincere.

"I lug around a lot of guilt. But no regrets. Funny, huh?"

"Things turn out that way sometimes. I've been through some of that."

"Like this little jaunt?"

"Huh?"

"You don't hide so well behind the smart mouth and weary attitude, Garrett. We ice this Chodo, you're going to take on a shitload of guilt."

"But no regrets."

"Yeah. And you know something? That's why I wanted in. The money and the rep I can use, but it wasn't just for that. It's ‘cause I figure you for one of the good guys."

"I try." Probably too hard. "But when you get down to it, there isn't much difference between the good guys and the bad guys." I used some of my cases to illustrate.

She told me how she'd become a bounty hunter. Mostly by accident. Right after she'd left her family she'd killed a much-wanted thug who'd tried to rape her. She traded the remains for a reward and had found herself with a reputation for having more guts than sense and a big chip on her shoulder.

"The rep's the thing, Garrett. You build it right, you nurture it, you save a lot of trouble. You take this Chodo. Nobody bucks him because of his reputation."

"He backs it up."

"You got to do that. Ruthlessness is the key. You, now, your rep is wishy-washy except for keeping your word and not letting people mess your clients around. You might be tough, but you ain't hard. You get what I'm saying? Somebody hires you to get him out from under blackmail, you don't just go cut some bastard's throat and have done with it. You try to finagle it so nobody gets hurt. Lot of people figure you for soft in the center, you go that way. Figure they've got an edge."