Wicked Bronze Ambition: A Garrett, P.I., Novel by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

about me during the war.
    In seconds Helenia was at it again with the man who had tried to keep her away from the Director. It sounded like there was a relationship there. Concern underlay everything else.
    “Shouldn’t take but a few minutes,” Relway said. “I know you’ve seen all this before, even if you haven’t lived it. The numb will start to wear off soon. You’ll be mad as hell. That’s when you really need to watch it so you don’t do something stupid. You have to control yourself. If what happened is connected to your blood tournament, the Civil Guard will handle it.”
    I looked straight into his eyes. And didn’t see their color, though I knew they must be . . . brown? I was still empty, but he saw something behind the emptiness. Something that left him exceptionally uncomfortable.
    He knew that Garrett isn’t somebody you get in front of when he gets hot. It takes him a while to get there, then . . .
    “Don’t do anything to put yourself on the wrong side of the law, Garrett.”
    I grew up in TunFaire. Till the last few years, justice was a craft industry. You made it yourself. A lifetime of that wasn’t going away because some dreamer wanted me to live up to his ideals.
    I said nothing to contradict him, though.
    The crew member of unusual size from the gang that snagged Preston Womble turned up quickly. He had Preston with him, Womble scampering to avoid being dragged. The big guy stopped outside Relway’s cage. “Set to go, boss,” he said. “What do you got?”
    Womble lost some color after he looked at me.
    I didn’t feel it consciously, but the next stage was getting some traction.
    Relway said, “Take Mr. Garrett home. I want you both to stick with him. You understand me, Womble?”
    “Yes, sir. I do, Director. Yes indeed. How long shall I pursue those instructions, sir? What is my function to be?”
    Womble belonged to that class of people who go a long way in very small doses, obviously.
    “We’ll tell you when you’re done. Your job is to look out for Garrett. You will do whatever it takes to keep him healthy and happy. You’ll also do whatever Target tells you to do.”
    “Yes, sir, Director. I understand you perfectly, sir.”
    “Get moving, then. Garrett, I expect you to control yourself. I’ll see you again soon, hopefully with something to report. I must get matters rolling here.”
    And that was that, a little confusing in the state I was in.

14
    I didn’t get to ask Targethow he got his name. Having been to the war zone, I expect that it had to do with his size and capacity for attracting enemy fire. He clearly did not like being called Target, but he wasn’t going to argue with his boss about it.
    He led us back to the entrance I had used getting into the Al-Khar, muttering about the damned woman being so damned slow, she should quit playing her damned games with that damned dick Merryman . . .
    I caught the stench of horse before I heard or saw the monsters coming, with fiery evil eyes and fangs like the mother of all saber-tithed toogers . . . I have a problem with horses. No, actually, horses have a problem with me. I’m willing to live and let live, but they are equally willing to do what it takes to wrap my story up early. Then they could let bygones be bygones and get on with live and let lie down dead.
    These nags were not the worst. No smoke rolled out of their nostrils. After a single flash of contempt, they chose to ignore me.
    My companions paid the monsters no heed. Target just stayed near Womble in case Preston got struck stupider and tried to make a break. Helenia and an old red top who would drive the coach hung on behind the pair of scruffy devils. Each led one animal by the harness. I looked for their muzzles and failed to spot any. The coach was not a big one. It was marked but not with any official insignia.
    Helenia noted my interest. “We confiscated it under the racketeering statutes.”
    Um. Yeah. There was a good idea. Give the