Free Old Tin Sorrows by Glen Cook Page A

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 doing his morning workout. A year ago you wouldn’t have caught him dead out of bed this time of day.”
    You could have if there was enough money in it. “Wonders never cease, do they?”
    “He said come up. You want a refill?”
    “Why not? Fruit juice is the only thing here I can handle.”
    He winked. He wasn’t one of Morley’s converts. He topped off my mug. I took it up to Morley’s office, which is the barbican to his personal quarters. I’m about as close to a friend as he has, but I’ve never been past the office. My hair is too short and I don’t wear enough makeup.
    Dotes was doing sit-ups, chunking them out like a machine. My stomach hurt just watching.
    “You’re in pretty good shape for a guy your age,” I told him. I wasn’t sure what that was. It could be substantial. He’s part dark-elf. Elves can last a long time.
    “I take it you’re working again.” He said it while popping up and down. Like there was no strain to what he was doing.
    I told myself I had to start doing a few exercises. At my age, when you lose it, it’s hard to get back. “Why do you assume—”
    “You don’t come down here unless you want something.”
    “Not true. I used to bring Maya in all the time.” That was before she and I had gone our own ways.
    “You lost a gem there, Garrett.” He rolled over, started doing push-ups.
    His dark-elf blood doesn’t scream out. He looks like a short, slim, dark-haired man in good shape. He’s quick on his feet. There’s an air of the dangerous about him, but not one of menace. Maybe that’s why women find him irresistible.
    “Maybe. I do miss her, some. She was a good kid.”
    “Pretty, too. So you going on with Tinnie?”
    My friend Tinnie Tate, professional high-tempered redhead. Ours is an unpredictable relationship. “I see her. When she doesn’t think I deserve to be punished by not seeing her.”
    “Only smart thing you’ve done since I’ve known you is not tell her about Maya.” He completed fifty fast ones, jumped up. He wasn’t sweating. I felt like kicking his behind. “What’s up?”
    “You heard of General Stantnor?”
    “Used to be Marine Commandant?”
    “The same.”
    “What about him?”
    “A guy who works for him, my old company sergeant, called in a debt. He got me to