Ole Doc Methuselah Part 20

Had he seen a riot, a golden palace, a ten-tailed dog or a parade of seals singing "Hallelujah," Ole Doc would not have been much amazed, for one sees many things strange and disorders unreasonable in a lifetime of rolling through the systems great and small. Ole Doc had been every- where and seen everything, had long ago come to the conclusion that it wasn't even curious, but a well-dressed obviously influential old man engaging in the stalk of a mangy cat-well!

The gentleman had crept around the corner to pursue his game and now he had a fence for cover and with it was using up the twenty-yard lead the cat had had orig- inally. In his hand the gentleman held a b.u.t.terfly net and in his eye there was hunger.

The cat was unable to locate its pursuer now and stopped a bit to pant. It looked beleaguered as though it had been hunted before and the old gentleman had it worried. It crouched warily behind a post and condensed itself anew when it saw Ole Doc some thirty feet away.

This new distraction was its undoing.

Soft-footed and alert, the old gentleman left the fence and crossed the walk out of the cat's range of vision. Too late the animal caught the shadow beside it and sprang to escape. There was a swish of net and a blur of fur, a yowl of dismay and a crow of triumph and the old gentleman, by twisting the net into a bag below the hoop, struck an att.i.tude of victory.

Ole Doc started breathing again and walked forward.

The old gentleman, seeing him, held up the prize.

"A fine morsel now, isn't it, sir?" said the old gentle- man. "Been three solid weeks since we've dined on good, tasty cat. Don't yowl, my good rabbit avec croutons to be, for it won't do you a bit of good. My, my, my, that was a long chase. Ten solid blocks and tortuous, too, what with thinking every instant some guttersnipe would leap out and s.n.a.t.c.h my prize from me. For I'm not as young as once I was. Dear me."

Ole Doc could see no insanity in the fellow's eyes nor find any fault other than this enthusiasm for dining on mangy cats. But, he decided suddenly, this was no time to follow the quirks of the human mind. Serious business- very serious business-was waiting for him in the wrecked hull of the Morgue. He glanced anxiously at his radio pack. The tic-tic-tic of the heart counter was very slow.

"Sir," said Ole Doc, "while I can't share your enthusi- asm for cat on toast, I could use some of your knowledge of this town. Could you tell me where I might find a company known as Malbright, Diggs? They import, I think and have their main office here in Minga."

At this the old gentleman stopped admiring his capture which was now entirely subdued. "Malbright, Diggs. Bless me!" And he removed a pocket handkerchief and blew his

nose heavily. "You won't be from any town on Arphon, then."

"Be quick, man. Where can I find any member of that firm?"

The old gentleman blew again. "Well," he said, "if you've a mind for fantasy, you might try looking in heaven and then again, as their creditors would have had it, in h.e.l.l. One place or the other I dare say you'll find my poor old billiard companion Malbright and his sad little partner Diggs. But Arphon isn't h.e.l.l, sir. Indeed it's two stops beyond."

"The firm has failed, then. Where was it located?"

"Oh, the original Malbright, Diggs has failed, sir. But it's Air Limited you'd have to approach to get any trace of their affairs. Malbright was the cause of it you see, poor chap. Got to needing more and more air and couldn't pay the bill out of his share. And he took to ... well," and here he blew his nose again, "from the till you might say and one day the firm failed. Poor Malbright. Had to have the air, you see. Couldn't pay the bill. And as it was a partnership, Diggs stood ready but unable to settle the accounts. And that was the end of it. A fine, thriving business it was, too, until Malbright took to needing air.

But it's all gone, all gone." And he looked around him at the autumn day as though the dismal winter snows lay heavily over the streets.

Ole Doc frowned. "Air? What nonsense is this about air. Short time ago I heard something of it. But I haven't any time. You'll remember a small extraracial clerk that Malbright had, then. Probably four handed. Name of Bestin Karjoy-"

"Oh, dear me, no. Malbright and Diggs must have had a thousand clerks. Business ran into the billions of tons per annum, you know. Customers all over the system. Fine, rich company. Poor Malbright." And he honked again on the handkerchief.

Ole Doc was impatient. "How could a firm like that fail just because one partner needed a little air. Why, man, the whole sky around here is full of it. Air!"

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the old gentleman, shocked. "I beg your pardon." And before Ole Doc could think of further questions, the old gentleman hurried away, clutching his precious rabbit soup in the form of a very mangy cat, and was gone.

Ole Doc's boots were angry on the pavement. He was struck now, as he looked for signs, with an air of decay and unhappiness about the town. There were people here and there but they were listless and incurious like beings who have been hungry too long or who despair of any hope.

Store windows were clutters of dusty junk. The theatre marquee was advertising the personal appearance of a singer ten years dead. Shutters groaned in the faint wind and stairs staggered in crazy disrepair. The town looked like it had been sacked and repeopled with ghosts.

There was a city park ahead, a pitiful little thing of broken fountains and root-cracked walks and Ole Doc saw two dogs slinking through it, wary like hunted beasts, sniffing hungrily at refuse.

The town, he realized with a start, was starving. The children he saw in a doorway were bloat-bellied and unpleasant. Ole Doc turned toward them and they made a sorry effort to run away. He peered into the interior of the rickety dwelling and saw that they were now cl.u.s.tered around the bed of a woman who might, in other stages of economics, have been comely.

She saw his shadow and turned. Wearily she tried to motion him away. "No. No more ... I can't ... I can't pay."

This was definitely his business but he thrust it aside.

"Madam, I am not trying to collect money. Here is a gold coin," and he dug one from his money pouch and placed it courteously on the table. "I want to find a man, an extraracial being of four hands, named Bestin Karjoy.

Direct me to some one who will know and you shall have my deepest thanks."

She managed to understand this and then made a mo- tion at her eldest boy. "Go, Jimmy. Go show him what he wants." But she looked suspiciously at the coin as she picked it up.

Ole Doc winced when he saw how close to the skin her bones were. He pulled a small hypo gun from his pocket, fumbled in bis kit and loaded it with slugs. The jet it shot penetrated without pain and he triggered it six times before he left the room. They didn't know they had been force fed and only stared in awe at the small gun, afraid it might be a blaster.

Ole Doc motioned to the eldest and went back into the street. But he might have found the place himself.

It was a great, gold-fronted building before which lounged Persephon guards. And over the top of the door was the mighty legend, "Air, Limited" and on the panel, "Big Lem Tolliver, Savior of Arphon."

Ole Doc gave the boy another gold coin and then breasted the guards. They stopped him with guttural grunts and were about to argue in earnest at his pressure when they both came up rigid, staring straight ahead. Ole Doc put the hypo gun back into his pocket, looked hard at the guards to make sure the rigor had set good and hard and would stay for a while and walked on in.

A clerk came up. "This is a private office, sir. The general entrance for the payment of taxes, rentals and bail are next door. Besides-"

"I want to see your records," said Ole Doc. "I am looking for an extraracial man named Bestin Karjoy and no second-rate town like this is going to stop me. Where are your records?"

Fatally, the clerk had new objections. There was a small snick and Ole Doc put the gun back into his pocket.

"You are a trained clerk and obedient to one Lem Tolli- ver. It is the will of Tolliver that you find the name Bestin Karjoy in your files and give me the address."

The narco slug had bitten straight through the modish waistcoat and pink silk undershirt. "Yes sir. Coming right up, sir. Won't keep you waiting a minute, sir. What Big Lem wants-"

"Who says Big Lem wants anything?" came hugely from the door. "I," he said waddling closer, chin out- thrust, "do not like gents who go around spieling off orders I ain't issued. Now, whoever you are, let's hear just why you impersonate a messenger for me."

Ole Doc looked at him rather wearily. He gripped the hypo gun in his pocket, but he never got a chance to use it. Some sixth sense told one of Tolliver's bodyguard that an attack was imminent and Ole Doc was seized from behind and held hard while the contents of his pockets were turned out by Tolliver.

The small meters and instruments, the minute boxes of pellets, the hypo gun itself, these meant nothing to Tolli- ver or anyone around him. But the gorget meant some- thing-The solid gold ray rods of the U.M.S. which were chained to Ole Doc's throat in such a position as to protect the most vulnerable point of the jugular. Tolliver

tried to yank it off, failed to break the chain and so had to stare at it

"U.M.S.," said Tolliver. "Huh."

A clerk had come in to aid his fallen brother of the files and inkpots for the first one, under the stimulus of the narco slug and crossed orders had quietly fainted away.

"Universal Medical Society," said the new clerk. And then he realized what he had said and jumped back, letting his brother clerk fall. He stared, mouth agape, at Ole Doc.

"Univ-" began Tolliver. And then his face went a little white. He bent as he stared at Ole Doc. Then, dismissing it. "He'd Imitate a messenger. He'd pretend anything. He ain't no Soldier of Light. Where's the crowd with him?"

"They . . . they operate alone," said the second clerk. "I ... I read in the Universal Weekly that they-"

"Bosh! What would they care about Arphon? U.M.S.,"

bl.u.s.tered Tolliver, "is strictly big time. He'd never land here. Listen, you whatever-you-call-it, don't give me no stuff about U.M.S. You're here for graft and I'm on to your game. Now, let's see how good you are at crawling out of your lie. Go on, crawl!"

Ole Doc sighed. He had seen such men before. "I suppose I am addressing Lem Tollander."

"Tolliver!"

"Lem Tolliver, then. President or some such thing of Air, Limited."

"Correct. And you come here for a shakedown.

Listen-" And then he stopped and looked at a new thing in the contents of the pockets. It was a slave ear tag. "Ah,"