Free Book 04 - Old Tin Sorrows by Glen Cook

all.
    Tyler and Wayne were cut from Marine lifer cloth. Whatever the physical differences between men, they gain a certain uniformity in service. Tyler was a lean, narrow-faced character with hard brown eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and a thin, speckled beard trimmed within a half-inch of his skin. Wayne was my size, maybe twenty pounds heavier, not fat. He looked like he could throw cows around if the passion took him. He was six inches taller than Tyler and blond, with icy blue eyes, yet you felt the sameness in them. You even felt the identity with Chain, who had gone to seed.
    I’d spent five years in the company of men like them. Any one of them would be capable of murder if he took a mind. Human life wasn’t anything special to them. They’d seen too much death.
    Which did present one puzzle.
    Marines are straightforward kinds of guys. If one wanted the General dead, chances were he’d just do it. Unless there was some overpowering motive to make it a lingering death.
    Like, say, hanging onto a share of the old man’s estate?
    Worrying about it was pointless. You can’t force these things. They have to unfold.
    I helped Cook clear away, then put on my traveling shoes.
     
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11
    I hadn’t been to Morley’s place in months. It wasn’t that we’d had a falling out or anything; I just hadn’t had a need, nor any urge to graze on the cattle food that comes out of his kitchen. I arrived about nine. He’s closed to business then. He’s open from eleven to six in the morning, catering to every sentient species there is, all so warped they try to subsist on vegetables.
    It takes all kinds. Some of my best friends eat there. I’ve done so myself. Without enthusiasm.
    So. Nine o’clock. The place was locked up. I went to the backdoor and gave the secret knock, which means I hammered and howled till Morley’s man Wedge brought a four-foot piece of lead pipe and offered to move my face to my belly button region.
    “This’s business, Wedge.”
    “I didn’t figure you was in heat for some bean curd. You don’t come around unless you want something.”
    “I pay for what I get.”
    He snorted. He didn’t think it was right, me using Morley just because Morley had taken advantage of me, at deadly risk and without my consent, to get out of some heavy gambling debts.
    “Cash money, Wedge. And he don’t have to get off his butt. He just needs to have somebody do some legwork.”
    That didn’t cheer him up. He’s one of the guys who does Morley’s legwork. But he didn’t slam the door.
    “Come.” He eased me in and barred the door, led me through kitchens where cooks were butchering cabbages and broccoli, parked me at the serving bar, drew me a mug of apple juice, “Wait.” He went upstairs.
    The public room was naked and forlorn, almost painfully quiet. The way it ought to be all the time, instead of overcrowded.
    Morley Dotes is a headhunter. A kneebreaker and a lifetaker. Most of the guys who work for him help. Morley is a deadly symbiote feeding on society’s dark underside. He’s the best at what he does, barring maybe a couple of guys who work for Chodo Contague.
    Adding up the account, Morley Dotes is everything I don’t like. He’s the kind of guy I wanted to take down when I decided to put on my good-guy hat. But I like him.
    Sometimes you can’t help yourself.
    Wedge came down shaking his head. “What’s up?” I asked.
    “He’s taking this health stuff too far.”
    “You’re telling me? He’s like a born again, trying to save everybody else.” The world’s only vegetarian lifetaker. Wants to save the world from the perils of red meat—before he cuts its throat. I don’t know. Maybe there’s no conflict but it sounds like one to me. “He’s added to the list?”
    “Been a few months, right?”
    “Last time I was here he’d sworn off gambling and was making it stick. He tried women but couldn’t hold out.”
    “He forgot that crock. Say that for him. The thing now is early to bed, early to rise. He’s up. Now. Up and dressed and fed and