It was Nigel, all right. The temples were greyer, but this was still the wiry investment banker that Ruthie had snagged for herself all those years ago. The bandages were clean, no bloodstains showing weeping wounds. But Johnny could see patches of skin showing through the hair. Nigel had been beaten badly enough to require shaving and stitches. Someone had roughed him up, but that had been some time ago. A Search/Destroy Agent would have been up and about long ago.
"Johnny?" said Nigel hoarsely.
"It's me, Nige," said Johnny. "Wanna tell me what this is about?"
"Johnny Alpha?"
"You're looking good, Nige," said Johnny, instinctively checking the window. He stood in the corner, shielded from view and facing the door. Blarg may have been outside "on guard", but Johnny wasn't the kind to take chances.
"Better than I was expecting, in fact," added Johnny. "The Doghouse has you down for major wounds."
"I was beaten up," said Nigel. "It looked a lot worse than it was."
Johnny nodded, and waited in silence.
"It still hurts if I do this," said Nigel, raising his left arm above his head.
"Don't do it, then," said Johnny.
Nigel put his arm down again.
"I'm glad you came..." he began.
"What the hell happened?" said Johnny. "Where's Ruthie?"
Nigel nibbled nervously at his lip. His eyes darted meaningfully at the door. Johnny came over, knelt down by the side of the bed, and whispered gently in Nigel's ear.
"What's happened to my sister?" he hissed.
"Nobody knows," whispered Nigel, "that she's your sister."
"I should hope so," said Johnny. "That was kind of the idea."
"Yeah," said Nigel. "Nobody knows she's Nelson Kreelman's daughter, either."
"Excellent," said Johnny. "That's the way we want it."
"Ruthie's safe," added Nigel. "I think."
"What do you mean you
think
she's safe?"
An announcement came over the corridor tannoy in Tammerfortian birdcalls. The two men waited patiently for it to finish.
"Johnny," said Nigel, his ears still ringing. "We had a good life together, you know. I was a good husband. I
am
a good husband!"
"So what happened?"
"It was time to move on," said Nigel. Johnny took a deep breath. "For both of us!" added Nigel, hastily. "We're still together, Johnny. Everything's great between us."
"That's good to know," said Johnny.
"We had a house. I had a good job..."
"Investing?"
"Sure, sure. Bonds are bonds anywhere in the galaxy. You just need a good planet. Tammerfors was great for that. They don't have hang-ups about aliens here and there's a lot of interplanetary trade."
"A lot of people moving around," agreed Johnny. "Good place for criminals to hide."
"A good place for
anyone
to hide," said Nigel. "At least it was. But we were getting worried."
"What about?"
"People were snooping around. Press, private investigators, I really don't know who, but they were asking questions. Someone was trawling through the Lesses in the phone book. They were getting closer."
"Where are you heading with this?"
"Offworld" said Nigel. "Before someone found out who we were..."
"Who Ruthie was?"
"Yeah," said Nigel. "Can you imagine what would happen if the Patriot Party found out that you-know-who's daughter was here?"
Johnny's eyes narrowed.
"Her family history catching up with her?"
"Ruthie wanted to forget it. She wanted to forget all about her damn family!" said Nigel fiercely. Johnny waited, expressionless, his white eyes unreadable. "Well," Nigel hastily backpedalled, "not
all
of them, of course."
The Gronk clung excitedly to the gurney's underside, its face awash in ecstasy. The Tammerfortian orderly continued to wheel the trolley along, oblivious to his stowaway, nearing the chairs where Wulf sat.
"I told you," said Wulf. "I was looking for der Gronk. And I've just found him."
"As you wish," said Malcolm, digging in his top pocket for a card. The tall guy with the Viking complex might take weeks to make an appointment, but he'd make one. Secretly, Malcolm began hazarding guesses of what Mr Sternhammer's mutant problem was. He sure looked human enough from the outside. He figured that maybe the beard was hiding something. Beards normally did.
"Wheee!" said the Gronk as its impromptu ride picked up speed.
Wulf plucked the Gronk from the passing gurney.
"Mister Wulf," it said. "Did you see?"
"Yes Gronk," said Wulf wearily. "I saw."
"This creature is yours?" said Malcolm with some surprise.
"In a manner of speaking," said Wulf.
"Oh, I see. Then maybe you
are
in the wrong place!" said Malcolm, smiling uneasily. He wasn't used to dealing with people who were healthy.
"Aren't you in der wrong place, too?" asked Wulf.
"Who me?" smiled Malcolm. "No, I work here."
"On the humans?"
"The human cosmetic stuff is just a sideline. And we keep it down here for discretion's sake. My day job is domestic medicine." He rose to his feet. If this guy wasn't a potential surgery ticket, he was wasting his time.
"Patching up bird-people?"
"Taking them back to nature, more like," said Malcolm. He leaned against the glass front of a drinks machine, his shoulders slackening.
"What do you mean?" asked Wulf.
"Sometimes with these guys," said Malcolm, rolling his eyes at another passing Tammerfortian orderly, "I get the feeling that evolution took 'em by surprise." He played idly with the dirty lump of cotton wool in his hand. "One day they're flying on the wind, happy as, well, birds. Then all of a sudden, they're grounded."
"You means der hands?" said Wulf. "But hands are great. Without them you could not swing der axe or sail der ship, or-"
"Or pretty much do anything," agreed Malcolm. "But the locals, a lot of them just want to go back to nature and live like the good old days."
Wulf's eyebrows rose in surprise. The nurse with the strange hair-do had returned to her workstation, and she found the Gronk awfully cute. The Gronk sat in her lap and cooed happily while she played with its fur.
"They want to be...?"
"Devolved. Lose the hands, get their wings back, go and live up on a clifftop somewhere and fly around all day looking for worms."
"For Vulf Sternhammer," said Wulf, "that would get very boring very fast."
"Get this," said Malcolm. "It gets boring for them, too. We get forty per cent re-admissions. Anyone with any cash left wants the operation reversed, but most of them blew their wad getting the snip in the first place."
"What happens to them?"
"They end up on welfare, moaning about what a snecky deal they got."
A
bing-bong
noise heralded another approaching tannoy announcement. Malcolm swiftly stuffed the cotton wool back in his ears. Wulf had to make do with his fingers.
"But if they have the money," yelled Wulf over the noise. "You can help them,
jah
?"
Malcolm shrugged.
"Here? No. You want someone to put hands back on or reverse a devolution, you need the big boys."
"And where are they?"
A beeping noise issued from Malcolm's pocket.
"Look," he said. "I'd better take this, you set?"
"The annex?" added Wulf, quizzically.
Malcolm was fishing a small black pager from his pocket. He waved down a corridor to the left and made an upward jerking motion with his hand.
"Straight down," he said, partly distracted by the message on his pager. "And up the first flight on the left. Hmmm..."
"Come on, Gronk," said Wulf. "Play time is over."
Wails of frustrated delight rose from both the Gronk and his new friend.
"Now," said Wulf, already fretting over what Johnny was doing. "Before der others get here."
"See you around," said Malcolm. "I've just got a goodie. Some nut in the ER thinks he's half-man, half-squid."
Behind him came the sound of a surprised squeal, as a Gronk was snatched and dragged bodily up the corridor. Heavy Viking footfalls sprinted for the annex.
"We were going to Mars," said Nigel. "We wanted to run. But it's been ten years, Johnny. Ten years since we quit Earth. Our passports were up."
Johnny shook his head in disbelief.
"Is that it? This is about your damn passports?"
"Ruthie's still has her maiden name on it!" hissed Nigel. "Do you honestly think someone at the Terran embassy wouldn't drop a dime when they saw it?"
"Why didn't you come to me?"
"It's not as easy as you think," said Nigel.
"I know people."
"You
arrest
people."
"For Ruthie, I would call in favours," said Johnny.
"Johnny, Ruth is pure. We both are. I know that a lot of you... er... genetically different people change their names at will, and travel in steerage and all kinds of sneck, but we can't do that."
"Third-class travel not good enough for you?"
"Johnny, please. We were planning something a lot lower-grade than that."
"There's nothing lower than third class, dufus, not unless you were going in the hold."
"Bingo," said Nigel, sounding almost pleased. "I got her a stasis pod."
"You were sending her as cargo?"
"I think she was going as coffee. Or plywood or something."
"You snecking idiot."
"It seemed like a good idea at the-"
"You need someone you trusted at this end, and someone you trust at the other end, otherwise you end up chump-dumped. Did you think of that?"
"Of course," said Nigel, indignant. "I was still awake. I made sure she was okay."
"Oh yeah? You did a bang up job by the looks of it!" growled Johnny. Nigel was lucky he was already in a hospital bed. Otherwise Johnny would have put him in one himself.
"The deal went wrong," said Nigel.
"With who?"
"I found some guys."
"Some guys? What? Did you put an ad in the paper?"
"Friends of friends of friends," said Nigel, unhelpfully. "Listen, it doesn't matter."
"Oh, I think it does."
"They said they would smuggle us offworld. I wanted to watch them put Ruth under, you know, so I could be sure."
Johnny's mouth hung open. "How could you be so stupid?"
"I was desperate, okay."
"Desperately stupid, more like."
"The deal went wrong and I got hurt in the struggle. When the cops arrived, I told them that Ruthie did it."
"Charming. So for the last snecking time, where is my sister?"
"She's with
them
, Johnny."
"Dammit."
"She's in stasis, they're taking her somewhere. If I don't come up with the money today, they'll ship her off to God knows where."
Johnny rested his forehead against the cool wall and closed his eyes, struck dumb with anger. In this region of space, every single criminal gang was part of the same confederation. From the five guys he'd killed on Vaara, to the heaviest armed pirate ship taking on the navy, Alnitak was somehow involved. Nigel had handed Ruth over to the biggest criminal syndicate in the galaxy, and there were plenty of things they could do with Nelson Kreelman's daughter.
"That's why I haven't checked out," said Nigel, nodding his head at the phone on the bedside table. "This is the only way they know to contact me." Nigel's voice suppressed an anguished sob. "I love her, Johnny," he said. "This was all supposed to go differently. I figured with the police looking for her, there would be a better chance."
"Great thinking," Johnny growled.
"I mean," whispered Nigel, "I can't tell the truth, or they'll find out who she is as well." Nigel's face contorted. He rested his head in his hands while his shoulders shook with sobs. Johnny patted his brother-in-law on the back ineffectually, staring out the window at the lights of Tammerfors City.
"I'm sorry," said Nigel through his tears. "I don't know what to do. I just don't know how to get them back."
"Them?" asked Johnny.
"She's pregnant," added Nigel.
"She's WHAT?"
The silence in the room held for a couple of seconds, then the phone began to ring.
LAWLESS
Johnny ducked and rolled for the exit. He came to a halt under the screen on the wall, safe from the camera eye pointed at Nigel's bed.
"Is that them?" he hissed.
Nigel nodded sadly.
"These people are body sharks, understand?" he said, his eyes boring deep into Nigel's. "If they aren't, then their buddies are. You sneck this up, and Ruthie is spare parts."
Nigel reached gingerly for the control, his hand trembling.
"Just do what they tell you!" he said.
Nigel hit the Answer button and the wall screen went blue, displaying the telltale icon of someone set to Speaker Only, but the red Alert light in the corner of the screen started flashing. Whoever was calling could see the room and Nigel's bed. Johnny swiftly jerked his feet up under him, hoping they didn't show.
"Are we alone?" said a voice from the speaker. It was male, measured, and filtered through some kind of decoy device so that it had a faint gargly sound.
"Yes," said Nigel in a small voice.
"We want ten thousand credits, in cash."
"I can't find that kind of money," protested Nigel.
Johnny grimaced at his brother-in-law, making slicing motions across his neck with his hand. What was the idiot doing? He mouthed fiercely at the figure on the bed, nodding his head in an exaggerated fashion. SAY, he mimed, YES.
"If you could find enough to get you to Mars, you can come up with the goods to get your
merchandise
back," said the voice.
"But-"
"Wait at the bridge on the rapids. Wait there by the payphone, at seven o'clock."
"Listen," said Nigel, "is there some way-?"
But the screen icon changed to Next Call, and the voice had gone.
Johnny climbed back to his feet. Nigel watched him in silence.
"That was just... dandy," said Johnny. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with here?"