Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future (45 page)

“In a moment,” said the Swagman,
holding up his hand. “First I have a gift for your chauffeur.”

“I assume you’re referring to me,”
said Father William, amused.

“That I am. Moonripple!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Father William’s present, if you
please.”

She went into the kitchen and
emerged a moment later carrying an enormous tray, which contained a large
roasted waterfowl in a cream sauce. It was surrounded by dumplings and
potatoes.

“Where shall I put it, sir?” asked
Moonripple.

“As far from this table as
possible.” He smiled apologetically at Father William, who was eyeing the
waterfowl greedily. “I’d like to speak to my partner privately. This will give
you something to do with your mouth.”

“I’m not even going to take
offense at that remark, given the magnitude of this thoroughly Christian
gesture,” said Father William, rubbing his hands together and walking over to
the table where Moonripple had placed the tray. He signaled to the girl. “I
think I’m going to need a pitcher of beer to wash this down, my child.” She
began to protest, but he held up a finger for silence. “I know what we
discussed last night, but God understands that the flesh is weak. I’ll begin my
diet next Monday.”

“For sure this time?”

“Unless Providence intervenes.”

She looked her disbelief but
brought him his beer, and a moment later he was attacking his dinner, oblivious
to the rest of the universe.

“It’s good to see you again,
Sebastian,” said the Swagman, lowering his voice just enough so that it
wouldn’t carry across the room.

“I wish I could say the same,”
responded Cain. “What are you doing here?”

“Simple. You followed a smuggling
trail and the Angel followed a paper trail.” He grinned. “I decided to follow
the easiest trail of all—bounty hunters.”

“There are a lot of worlds with
more bounty hunters than this one.”

“True,” admitted the Swagman. “But
they don’t have you and Father William on them. You killed a man yesterday, but
you didn’t leave—and Father William has been here for more than a month.”

“Santiago’s not here.” said Cain.

“Allow me the courtesy of asking
if he is, before you start lying to me,” said the Swagman. He paused. “If he
isn’t
on Safe Harbor, Orpheus must be having a reunion of
all the killers he’s ever written up. You know that the Angel’s on his way here,
don’t you?”

“How close is he?” asked Cain.

“Two or three days away,” replied
the Swagman. “And he’s got another of your partners with him.”

“Virtue or Terwilliger?” asked
Cain.

“Hadn’t you heard? Terwilliger,
alas, has gone to that great gambling parlor in the sky.”

“Who killed him—the Angel?”

The Swagman shook his head.
“ManMountain Bates finally caught up with him.”

Cain shrugged. “He shouldn’t have
cheated him.”

“I knew you’d be heartbroken,”
said the Swagman with a chuckle. “If it’ll make you feel any better, the Angel
avenged his death.”

Cain frowned. “There wasn’t any
paper on Bates.”

“I guess the Angel must be one of
nature’s noblemen,” commented the Swagman. “He gives work to incompetent
journalists and he avenges crooked gamblers.” He scrutinized Cain from beneath
half-lowered lids. “Have you met any similarly public-minded citizens lately?”

“Who did you have in mind?” asked
Cain expressionlessly.

“You know who,” said the Swagman.
“Has he enlisted you in the Great Crusade yet?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“If you play the fool, Sebastian,
we’re never going to get anywhere. I know he’s here, and I can’t believe that
you’ve been on this world for two days without finding him.”

Cain stared at the Swagman for a
long moment.

“I found him,” he said at last.

“And of course you didn’t kill
him.”

“No, I didn’t.”

The Swagman smiled. “I knew you
wouldn’t. So did Yorick.” He shook his head. “I would have thought you’d have
gotten all that idealism out of your system after getting the hell pounded out
of you in your impetuous youth.”

“I thought so, too,” admitted
Cain.

“There’s no drunk like an old
one,” said the Swagman. He signaled to Moonripple, who had just brought Father
William a pan of hot biscuits. “A refill, if you please.”

“Yes, sir.” She looked at Cain.
“Will there be anything for you, sir?”

“Maybe a change in company.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He sighed. “I’ll have a beer.”

“Right away, sir.”

“I can’t imagine what Orpheus saw
in her.” commented the Swagman as he watched Moonripple walk to the bar.

“No, I don’t suppose you can,”
said Cain.

The Swagman smiled. “I have a
feeling that I’ve just been insulted.”

Cain stared at him and made no
reply.

“By the way,” continued the
Swagman, “I didn’t see Schussler on my way into town.”

“He’s dead.”

“That was stupid, Sebastian. You
receive an absolutely free spaceship with an enormous bank of interesting
information, and you destroy it? How wasteful.”

“I gave him my word.”

“I sincerely doubt that a promise
given to a machine is legally binding.”

“All the more reason for keeping
it,” said Cain.

“You’re sounding more like him
every day,” said the Swagman, amused.

“Like Schussler?” asked Cain,
puzzled.

“No. Like
him.
”

Moonripple arrived with their
drinks.

“I want to thank you once again
for saving my life, sir,” she said to Cain.

“I was happy to do it,” he
replied.

“I hope Silent Annie was able to
help you.”

He nodded.

She smiled. “I’m glad. That means
I’ve done something good for you, too.”

“Yes, you have.”

She smiled again and went back
into the kitchen to work on Father William’s dessert.

“That’s a very touching mutual
admiration society you two have going,” commented the Swagman.

“If you say so.”

“If
I
save her life, will she take
me
to see Santiago,
too?”

“I very much doubt it.”

“What commitment have you made to
him?”

“None, as yet.”

“But you will?” he persisted.

“Perhaps.”

The Swagman grimaced and shook his
head sadly. “Stupid. Just plain stupid.”

“Then I suggest you don’t join
him,” said Cain dryly.

“The man is sitting on the biggest
collection of artwork on the Frontier!” said the Swagman in exasperation. “And
nobody seems to care about it except me!”

“He’s also sitting on the biggest
collection of bluefever vaccine,” answered Cain calmly.

“Who the hell cares about
vaccine?” demanded the Swagman. “We’re talking about irreplaceable objects of
art!”

“Talk about them a little more
softly,” said Father William from across the room. “You’re spoiling my
digestion.”

“You’re a bigger fool than
he
is,” said the Swagman, lowering his voice and nodding
his head toward Father William. “At least he thinks he’s serving the Lord.”

“Maybe he is,” said Cain.

“You’re in danger of becoming a
bore, Sebastian,” said the Swagman distastefully. “A newfound sense of purpose
is one thing; a newfound religious conviction is another.”

Cain stared across the table at
him. “Just what the hell is it that you want, Swagman?”

“You know perfectly well what I
want.”

“You’ll have to get it yourself.”

“Nonsense. We’re partners.”

“Our partnership is dissolved.”

“That doesn’t change a thing,”
said the Swagman.

“Oh? Just how do you figure that?”

The Swagman leaned forward.
“Santiago is a dead man, Sebastian. If you don’t kill him, the Angel will. It’s
as simple as that.” He withdrew the cube from his pocket and began examining
the jewel-encrusted beetle again. “Why let
him
pick
up the reward for doing what you can do right now?”

“He won’t.”

The Swagman smiled. “Who’s going
to stop him—Father William?” He chuckled. “Killing run-of-the-mill sinners is
one thing; killing the Angel is another.” He stared intently at Cain. “Or do
you think that
you’re
going to stop him?”

“It’s a possibility.”

The Swagman snorted
contemptuously. “You haven’t got a chance.”

“I didn’t have a chance against
Altair of Altair, either.”

“This is different.” said the
Swagman earnestly. “He’s the
Angel.
”

“I’m getting tired of hearing
about him,” said Cain.

“You’re going to get a lot more
tired of it when everyone starts talking about how he killed Santiago.”

“Santiago has stayed hidden for
the past three decades,” Cain pointed out. “He strikes me as a man who can take
care of himself.”

“What are you talking about?”
demanded the Swagman. “Do you think you’re the first bounty hunter to set foot
on Safe Harbor?”

Cain shook his head. “Peacemaker
MacDougal was here four months ago. He killed Billy Three-Eyes right in front
of this tavern.” He smiled grimly. “But of course you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I’m not talking about Peacemaker
MacDougal!” snapped the Swagman. “Hell, half a dozen bounty hunters have gotten
this far. Two of them even made it out to his farm.”

“What farm?” asked Cain
innocently.

“The goddamned farm where Father
William gave you my note,” said the Swagman, holding the cube up to the light.
“I told you: I’m not totally without resources.”

“You didn’t even know he lived on
Safe Harbor when I left you two weeks ago,” said Cain, unimpressed.

“Not until yesterday,” admitted
the Swagman. “But I knew that he lived on a farm, and I knew that he buried the
two bounty hunters who found him out there in one of his wheat fields. I just
didn’t know where the farm was.”

“Who told you that?”

“Someone who worked for him and
saw the graves.”

“That bespeaks a certain ability
to defend himself, doesn’t it?”

“If ordinary bounty hunters could
get that close, the Angel will kill him,” said the Swagman. He paused. “Unless
you kill him first.”

“Not interested,” said Cain.

The Swagman smiled. “You haven’t
let me make my offer yet.”

“Make it and then leave me alone.”

“Half,” said the Swagman with a
confident grin.

“Half of what?”

“Half of the artwork. You keep all
the reward and we split the artwork fifty-fifty.”

“Stop playing with that damned
beetle and go away,” said Cain.

“Do you realize what I’m offering
you?” asked the Swagman, putting the cube back in his pocket.

Cain nodded. “Do
you
realize that I’m rejecting your offer?”

“You’re crazy!” snapped the
Swagman. “Even after I take the pieces I want, the rest of it is worth millions
on the black market!”

“Maybe I’m just not an art
collector.”

“You’ve made a very foolish career
decision, Sebastian.”

“Is that a threat?” asked Cain.

The Swagman shook his head. “Just
a prediction.”

“All right. You’ve made your
offer, I’ve turned it down. Now what?”

“Now we wait.”

“For what?”

“For you to change your mind.”

“I’m not going to,” said Cain.

“Then we wait for the Angel to
kill Santiago.”

“
He
won’t deal with you, either.”

“Probably not,” agreed the
Swagman. “But he also won’t know where the artwork is, and I’ve got as good a
chance of finding it as he does.”

“Then why make an offer to me at
all?” asked Cain, puzzled.

“Because you’re a reasonable man,
and we’ve already got a partnership agreement, whether you choose to
acknowledge that fact or not. The Angel might take a different view of my
confiscating the artwork.”

“Then let me set your mind to
rest,” said Cain seriously. “If you try to take anything that belongs to
Santiago, whether he’s alive or dead, I’ll kill you myself.”

The Swagman stared at him. “He
has
made an impression on you, hasn’t he?” he said,
amused.

“You heard what I said.”

The Swagman sighed. “Then I guess
I’ll just have to check into the boarding house where Father William is staying
and await developments.”

“Like a scavenger waiting around a
kill.” commented Cain distastefully.

“An apt comparison,” agreed the
Swagman with no show of anger. “You’d be surprised how few scavengers die
hungry when they follow the right predators.”

Cain turned to Father William, who
had finished his fowl and was just in the process of polishing off the various
side dishes with great enthusiasm.

“We’re through talking, if you’d
like to join us now,” he said in his normal voice.

“Or you could continue to pretend
you weren’t listening,” said the Swagman.

Father William looked across the
room and smiled.

“
I
was
eating.
God
was listening.” The preacher spent
another moment sopping up the last of the cream sauce with a piece of a
biscuit, then walked over to join them. “Did you conclude your business?”

“We agreed to disagree,” said the
Swagman.

“Are you planning to leave today,
or are you going to blacken your immortal soul still further?” asked Father
William.

“Oh, I think I’ll stay around for
a few days.” The Swagman suddenly grinned. “Nice place for a vacation.”

“Much as I like you, Swagman, if
you lift a finger against Santiago, I’ll hunt you down like an animal,” said
Father William.

The Swagman chuckled. “You’ll have
to stand in line. Everyone seems to have become terribly single-minded.”

“Just remember: there’s paper on
you.”