Free Wild Cards V by George R. R. Martin Page A

even been legal.”
    They both smiled.
    â€œFor this one, it may well be that you see no violence,” Mazzucchelli said. “Like I told you, my business is knowing things. I want you to get me some information. The best way to get it is so that nobody even knows it’s been got. On the other hand, if the only way you can get it is to cause somebody considerable angst, that’s okay. So long as you clean up real good afterwards.”
    â€œI get the picture. What do you want to know, and where do I find it?”
    Mazzucchelli gave a short, barking laugh.
    â€œThere seems to be another company doing business in this town,” he said then. “You know what I mean?”
    â€œYes,” Croyd replied, “and there is not usually room on one block for two delicatessens.”
    â€œExactly,” Mazzucchelli answered.
    â€œSo you are taking on extra help to continue the competition by heavier means.”
    â€œThat is a good summary. Now, like I said, there is certain information I need about the other company. I will pay you well to get it for me.”
    Croyd nodded. “I’m willing to give it a shot. What particular information are you after?”
    Mazzucchelli leaned forward and lowered his voice, his lips barely moving. “The chairman of the board. I want to know who’s running the show.”
    â€œThe boss? You mean he didn’t even send you a dead fish in somebody’s pants? I thought it was customary to observe certain amenities in these matters?”
    Mazzucchelli shrugged. “These guys got no etiquette. Could be a bunch of foreigners.”
    â€œHave you got any leads at all, or do I go it cold?”
    â€œYou will be pretty much a ground-breaker. I will give you a list of places they sometimes seem to operate through. I also have names of a couple people who might do some work for them.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you just pick one of them up and pop the question?”
    â€œI think that, like you, they are independent contractors rather than family members.”
    â€œI see.”
    Then, “And that may not be all they have in common with you,” Mazzucchelli added.
    â€œAces?” Croyd asked.
    Mazzucchelli nodded.
    â€œIf I’ve got to mess with aces it’s going to cost more than if they’re just civilians.”
    â€œI’m good for it,” Mazzucchelli said, withdrawing another envelope from his inner pocket. “Here is a retainer and the list. You may consider the retainer ten percent of the total price for the job.”
    Croyd opened the envelope, counted quickly. He smiled when he finished.
    â€œWhere do you take delivery?” he asked.
    â€œThe manager here can always get in touch with me.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œTheotocopolos. Theo’ll do.”
    â€œOkay,” Croyd said. “You just hired subtlety.”
    â€œWhen you go to sleep you turn into a different person, right?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, if that happens before the job is done, that new guy’s still got a contract with me.”
    â€œSo long as he gets paid.”
    â€œWe understand each other.”
    They shook hands, Croyd rose, left the booth, crossed the room. Moth-sized snowflakes swirled in as he departed. Mazzucchelli reached for a fresh toothpick. Outside, Croyd tossed a black pill into his mouth.

    Wearing gray slacks, blue blazer, and bloodclot-colored tie, his hair marcelled, shades silver, nails manicured, Croyd sat alone at a small window table in Aces High, regarding the city’s lights through wind-whipped snow beyond his baked salmon, sipping Château d’Yquem, hashing over plans for the next move in his investigation and flirting with Jane Dow, who had passed his way twice so far and was even now approaching again—a thing he took to be more than coincidence and a good omen, having lusted after her in a variety of hearts (some of them multiples) on a