A Fist Full O' Dead Guys Page 7

  "Well, Starling, that's right observant of you," Kolchak said. "'Course, even if it was a proper neck-stretchin', the fool might still be causin' folks trouble. Ain't that right?"

  "I wouldn't know about that," Starling said.

  "No, I guess you wouldn't," Kolchak said. "And I guess the moon might be made of green cheese, too."

  "Reckon you'd have to ask a scientist," Starling said.

  They resumed their trek. The land was flat and barren, broken only by the occasional stand of trees or scrubby bushes. They made camp just before nightfall.

  Once supper was done, Kolchak pulled out his deck of cards. "Care to play a hand to pass the time?" he asked.

  "I suppose."

  They played gin rummy. She won the first few hands, but he caught up soon enough.

  "Care to make it a little more interestin'?" he asked when they were neck-and-neck.

  "What did you have in mind?"

  "A friendly wager."

  "I don't gamble."

  "You haven't heard the stakes yet." He shuffled the cards from hand to hand and grinned. "Nothin' too serious, of course. Winner gets to ask the loser one question, and he or she has to answer honestly."

  She considered it, then nodded. "All right."

  He dealt. A few turns later she put her hand down and said, "Gin."

  He inspected it. "Four queens and a flush. My, my. Well, go ahead and ask your question."

  "Why'd you cheat to let me win?"

  He smiled without a trace of embarrassment. "Figured I could learn more about you from what you asked than what you'd answer. Questions tend to be a lot more honest than responses."

  "So-learn anything?" she asked.

  "Mebbe I did. But that's another question, isn't it?"

  She smiled, despite herself. "I suppose it is. I'll take the first watch."

  "You do that. Good night."

  "Good night."

  He woke just before midnight, jarred out of sleep by the sound of wagon wheels. He got up and put on his boots as the sound drew near. Starling was staring into the darkness, one hand on her Gatling pistol.

  "Kinda late for company," he whispered to her.

  "Quiet."

  The wagon came into view, pulled by an immense brown Clydesdale. It was the kind of wagon favored by snake-oil salesmen, a high-sided, squared-off wooden coach painted every color of the rainbow. "Mephisto Phillips' Traveling Bazaar of Curiosities, Cures, and Curios," was written in flowing cursive script on the side. Cherubs, unicorns and winged lions decorated various other surfaces.

  The driver was a man with a gaunt face and a corpulent body. He wore a long black coat and a matching top hat with a silver lightning bolt sewn on one side. He had long, stringy black hair and a thin, bony face; his eyebrows were like skinny rats perched on an overhang. His chin jutted out nearly as far as his nose did, and his eyes were twin black pebbles.

  Below the neck, though, he was as chubby as a pig trotting into a slaughterhouse. His hands were puffy sausages, his waist a ripe pumpkin. It gave the unsettling impression that something in his stomach was sucking all the juices out of his head, or maybe there was a beanpole walking around somewhere with the head of a fat man.

  He pulled his wagon up and stopped. "Good evening, Eunice," the driver said. His voice was rich and cultured, with just a trace of an indefinable accent. "I hope I haven't arrived at an inappropriate moment."

  "Eunice?" Kolchak said.

  "That's Miss Starling to you, Mr. Phillips," Starling said coldly. "And I understood that we were to meet three days from now. In private."

  "I'm afraid I'm at the mercy of the marketplace, my dear," Phillips said. "I go where the winds of commerce take me, and they elected to take me to this place at this time. Simply a coincidence, I assure you."

  "Three days from now, huh?" Kolchak said, staring at Phillips grimly. "Funny, that's when you said you were going to meet me."

  Starling turned to stare at the Ranger. "You also had a meeting with this man?"

  "A meeting? I thought we had an arrangement," Kolchak said.

  "Please, please," Phillips said, climbing down from the driver's bench. "There's no need for recrimination. I had separate appointments with both of you-but since fate has seen fit to throw the three of us together, far from the prying eyes of those less circumspect, why don't we take advantage of it?" He spread his fleshy hands wide and looked from the Agent to the Ranger for agreement.

  "Well, something's gonna get taken advantage of," Kolchak said with a scowl. "Or someone, more likely. Just don't go thinking it's gonna be me."

  "Or me," Starling snapped. "All right, Phillips—if this is how you want to play it, fine. But I won't be made a fool of."

  "I wouldn't dream of it, dear lady," Phillips said with an oily smile. "There are no fools here-just those interested in buying and selling. You are still interested, are you not?"

  "I am," she said.

  "So am I," Kolchak added.

  "Well then, why wait? Let's get down to business."

  "Fine."

  "Suits me."

  Phillips tottered over to the back of his wagon and pulled down a set of folding steps. He climbed up them, slowly and ponderously, then unlocked a door with a silver key he took from a pocket. He reached inside the wagon and pulled out a black valise. "Ah, there we go," he said, clumping back down the steps. He patted the valise lovingly. "Now—perhaps you would like to show me what you brought in trade?"

  "I'll go first," Starling said. She strode over to her saddlebags and pulled out an object bundled in cloth.

  Starling unwrapped it, revealing the stake.

  "That's it?" Kolchak said. "A stick?"

  Starling didn't reply. She picked the wood up with both hands and presented it carefully to Phillips. He leaned forward, examining it closely, but didn't touch it.

  "It's genuine," she said.

  "Oh, I know it is," Phillips said. "I can tell."

  "Genuine what?" Kolchak sneered. "Birch? Oak?"

  Phillips straightened up, a satisfied smile on his face. "Olive tree, most likely. They were common to the area around Jerusalem."

  Kolchak's sneer faded. "You mean-"

  "The largest existing fragment of the One True Cross," Starling said. "I've been authorized to offer it in trade—if you possess the object you claim you do."

  "Oh, I most certainly do," Phillips murmured. "But perhaps we should let Mr. Kolchak proffer his wares first."

  "Damn straight," Kolchak said. He walked over to his own saddlebags, yanked out the bandoleer and slung it over his shoulder. He straightened up, popping one of the bullets out of its holder as he did so. He tossed it to Phillips, who plucked it out of the air with a speed that was unnerving.

  "Ah, yessss," Phillips said softly He rolled the bullet between thumb and forefinger, then held it up to his mouth and licked it with a greyish tongue. "Ah, the taste of finely-aged betrayal," he said. "Exquisite."

  "Thirty bullets," Kolchak said. "Made from thirty pieces of silver. Once the property of a certain Judas Iscariot, received for services rendered. You may have the cross, Starling—but I have what paid for it."

  Starling said nothing.

  "All right, Phillips," Kolchak said. "We've shown you our cards—time for you to show yours. Ante up."

  "Despite your somewhat inaccurate metaphor, I understand your eagerness," Phillips said, handing the bullet back. "And it is justified, most definitely so."

  He opened the valise and reached carefully within, taking out a pouch of crushed purple velvet. He undid the drawstring, fumbling slightly with his pudgy fingers, and then emptied the pouch onto his outstretched hand.

  Out tumbled an apple. It was a pure, deep red, its skin glinting slightly in the firelight.

  "Don't look like much," Kolchak said.

  "Looks can be deceiving," Phillips replied.

  "So can people," said Starling.

  "I assure you, this is the genuine article," Phillips said. "An apple
plucked from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden itself. Original Sin's object of desire, with which the Serpent tempted Eve."

  "And had her and Adam cast out of Paradise," Starling said. "I think we know the story."

  "So now you're tempting us?" asked Kolchak.

  "Please, my good sir," Phillips said with a chuckle. "I am a businessman, not a snake. Had I been there, I would have driven a much harder bargain."

  "Assuming it is the real thing," Starling said, "Why should we want it?"

  "Because, dear lady, within this apple all knowledge is filed. One bite delivers everything that is known on any single subject. Think "horses" and you will know every breed, mane to fetlock, from plough horse to thoroughbred. Think "guns" and you will be instantly versed in all calibers, models and styles, from the smallest derringer to the largest cannon. Any fact, no matter how esoteric, can be revealed to you."

  "I don't see any bites taken out of it," Kolchak said. "So how would you know?"

  "I have my own sources," Phillips said curtly. He dropped the apple back into the bag and pulled the drawstring tight. "But I can see you'll need further convincing. The hour is late and tempers are short-perhaps it would be best all around if we retired for the night. Business should be conducted in the light of a fresh day, don't you think?"

  "You don't want to know what I'm thinkin', not at the moment," Kolchak growled. "All right, then-we'll deal with this in the morning. Since I'm already up, I'll stand watch—"

  "No need, no need," Phillips murmured as he placed the bag in the valise and snapped it shut. "I'm something of a night owl, myself—I'm sure I'll be up until dawn anyway. Why, after our business is concluded, I'll probably sleep all day."

  Starling looked at Kolchak. He shrugged. "Fine by me."

  "Very well," Starling said. "In the morning, then."

  "Sleep well," Phillips said sweetly as Starling and Kolchak repacked their merchandise. "Sleep the sleep of the innocent and the just..."

  ***

  Kolchak made his move an hour before dawn.

  He crept from his bedroll as quietly as a weasel in a henhouse. Phillips had moved his wagon a short distance from the campfire; Kolchak crept up to it in his stocking feet.

  "Psst! Phillips!" he hissed.

  "Around the other side," a voice called back softly.

  He stalked cautiously to the other side of the wagon. Phillips stood there, valise in hand as if he'd been waiting. He was smoking a cigar, the tip illuminating his bony face with a faint red glow.

  "We're assured of a little more privacy here," Phillips whispered.

  "Good. No need to wake the little lady, right?" Kolchak said. "I think we can finish our business without bothering her, don't you?"

  "Perhaps," Phillips murmured. "I take it then that you believe in the apple's authenticity?"

  "Well, now—that's another matter. So far, I have nothing but your word."

  "Come now, Mr. Kolchak-surely you don't think I'd try to deceive both an Agent and a Texas Ranger? I hold my life in considerably higher esteem than that."

  "You have a point," Kolchak admitted. "And you do seem to be an intelligent man. However, you would be amazed at the audacity of some of the owlhoots I've met-"

  "—not to mention some of the lawmen," Starling said.

  Kolchak spun around. She stood there with her Gatling pistol leveled at him and a chilly look on her face.

  "I see negotiations have started early," she said. "How thoughtful of you to let me get my beauty sleep."

  "Negotiations have begun, but hardly concluded," Phillips said mildly. He didn't seem perturbed at all. "Although I prefer not to conduct my business at gunpoint."

  "Well, we live in an imperfect world," Starling said. "Still it wasn't my intention to influence events through a show of force. I came armed solely as a precautionary measure, in case Mr. Kolchak's designs were less than honorable."

  She glanced down, carefully holstering her Gatling pistol— and looked up into the barrel of Kolchak's gun.

  "Which, I'm afraid, they are," Kolchak said. "Just ease that hand away from your shootin' iron, if you please."

  She locked eyes with him-then, grudgingly, did as he said.

  "Let's return to the campfire," Kolchak said. "I'd like a little more light to keep an eye on both of you." He marched them back, then took Starling's pistol "Does this mean you intend to relieve both of us of our possessions?" Phillips asked politely "Of course not," Kolchak said. "I'm a Ranger, not a thief. You and I will make a fair trade."

  "What about me?" asked Starling.

  "Well now-as a representative of the law of the Confederate States, I'm going to have to appropriate your merchandise as contraband, not to mention blasphemy. A holy relic doesn't belong in the hands of the tyrannical US government."

  "That silver probably feels right at home in yours, though," Starling said. "Judas must have been a Texan."

  Kolchak's eyes narrowed. "You know, I was going to use a hex to tell whether or not this piece of fruit was genuine, but I've got a better idea. Get out the apple."

  "Very well"

  When Phillips had opened the valise and removed the apple from the velvet bag, Kolchak motioned to Starling. "Give it to her."

  Starling took it.

  "Now," Kolchak said, "Take a bite."

  Starling glanced at Phillips, but he said nothing.

  "All right," she said.

  She sank her teeth into the apple and bit off a chunk. As she chewed, a distant look came over her face, like she was trying to remember something; then, as she swallowed, that look was replaced by a satisfied smile.

  Kolchak studied her. She studied him back.

  "Well," he said. "You don't look poisoned. But it's hard to tell, sometimes."

  "I feel fine. And in case you're wondering, the answer is yes. The apple works as advertised."

  "Is that so? Guess I should just take your word for it, leave my goods with Mr. Phillips here and ride off, huh?"

  "You're the one with the gun. You can do whatever you want."

  "If it works," Kolchak said, "What did you just become an expert on?"

  "The life expectancy of idiots. Hope you've got a will made out."

  He glared at her, but she didn't say anything else.

  "All right then," Kolchak said evenly. He held out his hand. "Give it to me."

  She did. He took it, then backed away. His eyes flickered from the apple to her, considering.

  Her smile widened. "What's the matter, Ranger? Afraid I know something you don't? Or maybe there are some things an Agent can do that a Ranger just doesn't have the guts for—"

  He bit into the apple.

  And Starling spoke a single word.

  "Hell."

  Kolchak's eyes widened. The apple fell to the ground with a thump. So did his gun.

  "No!" he gasped. He grabbed his head in both hands, like it was going to shoot into the sky and he was trying to hold it down.

  The scream that ripped from the Ranger's lungs would have done a banshee proud. Starling flinched, but the hint of a smile surfaced on Phillip's bony face.

  Kolchak collapsed to the ground, still clutching his skull. He was whimpering, and his eyes were blank.

  "Well played," Phillips said. "I daresay Mr. Kolchak now knows more than he ever wanted to about Perdition."

  Starling bent over and picked up the apple.

  "Since Mr. Kolchak seems indisposed, it seems you are the new owner of this sacred relic. Of course, I must-"

  "Keep it," Starling said. She tossed the apple at Phillips, who caught it with surprising speed.

  "But-dear lady, I'm confused. You won. Don't you want the fruit of your victory?"

  "Wrong question. Ask me another one."

  He looked at her, and his smile slowly grew wider. "Ah. I see. The right question is very important, isn't it? Such as the question you posed to the apple. And what, I wonder, could that have been?"

  Starling drew her Gatling
pistol. "I asked it," she said, "about itself."

  Phillips took a long, slow draw on his cigar. "And what, pray tell, did you learn?"

  "That it's about as sacred as a deck of cards. It's an apple with a demon in it. You ask the thing for information, it runs and gets it for you-but give it half a chance, it'll overload your brain like a desert storm flooding a gully. All I asked for was information about the apple itself, which protected me. I can tell you all sorts of things about when and where you picked it, though."

  "That won't be necessary," Phillips said. "A pity I suppose it's just vanity, but I was hoping you'd asked it about me."

  "I think," Starling said evenly, "that I know all I need to about you." She raised her pistol.

  Phillips laughed, and gestured with his cigar. A gout of flame thirty feet high abruptly roared from the camp fire, dazzling Starling and causing her to take a quick step backward.

  When her vision cleared, Phillips was gone. So was his horse and wagon; all he left behind were his footprints-and the lingering stench of brimstone.

  Starling packed up camp. She managed to get Kolchak on his horse, though she had to tie him into the saddle; about all he could manage with any consistency was drool. She figured she'd drop him at the nearest town and leave before anybody asked too many questions.

  She kept the silver bullets.

  THE TASTE

  Clay and Susan Griffith

  6th of May, 1871. I am Nathaniel Coffin, lsl mate, Coriolanus. We are 230 days out of Nantucket. I must put down my memories of this voyage while 1 remain firm of mind, for no other reason perhaps than to provide evidence upon our return home, if we return home, that we did deserve to abide in the dear company of our loved ones when we set out on the deep.

  The ship Coriolanus under Capt. Owen Nickerson departed Nantucket 12th of August, 1870, to hunt whales in the Pacific Ocean. This was my first voyage with Capt. Nickerson as mate on this ship, but the second time around Cape Horn. The ship was sound in all respects; she had a crew of twenty-five and provisions for two years. We ran down uneventfully and made the Cape on 3rd of December.

  We were thwarted in our passage by heavy weather. Westerly gales and massive seas prevented us putting away Cape Horn for a month. On the 29lh of December, we finally sank the Cape astern and sailed in moderate air toward the sperm whale grounds off Chile. The crew was in good spirits.