Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny

I’ve compiled a list, of Major Players and minor players who’ve dropped off the radar. No reason, no motive, no trace of them anywhere. And these were people who could look after themselves. Names you’d know, or recognise. I have to wonder; did someone take advantage of the chaos that followed the War, to ... remove certain people? It’s taken me some time to put this list together, but I’m convinced it means something. There’s a definite connection between all the people on this list. Take a look.”
    He passed me a sheet of expensive monogrammed paper. As his hand briefly touched mine, the skin was so cold it almost burned me. As though his dead flesh sucked the warmth right out of mine. I didn’t snatch my hand back, but I took the sheet from him as quickly as possible. The thick paper crackled loudly as I unfolded it. Thirty-seven names, all more or less familiar. Some of them jumped out at me: Strange Harald the Junkman, Bishop Beastly, Lady Damnation, Sister Igor, Salvation Kane, and Mistress Murmur. People good, bad, and in between. Some I’d worked with, some I’d known, and some I’d cross the street to avoid. But all the people on the list were, I knew, powerful personages in their own right.
    “Okay,” I said, “I’ll bite. What do all these names have in common?”
    “They all knew Tommy,” said Larry. “Every single one of them.”
    “Tommy did get around.” I thought about it. “Who is there powerful enough to make all these people disappear?”
    “Maybe someone interested in removing potential competition,” said Larry. “But ... why Tommy? He wasn’t interested in becoming famous, or important, or powerful. All I can see is that he moved in the same circles as these people. I need to know what happened to my brother, John, and I need to know why. Will you work with me on this case?”
    “No money, right?”
    “You owe me, John. You promised me you’d look after him.”
    “So I did. All right; let’s do it. I have wondered whatever happened to Tommy Oblivion.”
    “Is Suzie Shooter available to work with us?”
    I raised an eyebrow. “Expecting trouble?”
    “Always.”
    “Unfortunately, no. Walker has her out on the fringes, hunting down a bounty. Old Mother Shipton’s set up another baby-cloning clinic, and Suzie’s been sent to shut her down with extreme prejudice. Mother Shipton has her own private army, so that should keep Suzie happy for a while. You really expecting serious opposition?”
    “Yes,” said Larry. “And she’s the one person I could think of who wouldn’t be intimidated by Hadleigh.”
    “How do you feel about him?” I said carefully. “I mean, he’s your brother.”
    “I don’t know what Hadleigh is any more. Some of the stories I’ve heard ...”
    I nodded. We’ve all heard stories about the Detective Inspectre. Few of them had happy endings.
    “I’ve lost one brother,” Larry said abruptly. “I won’t lose another. Tommy ... should never have become a private eye. He only did it to please our father. And because he’d acquired his special existential gift. He won it in a poker game, you know, bluffing with a pair of threes. No-one could believe it. I was right there when it happened, and I still can’t believe it. I asked him to come and work with me, in the Bureau. So I could teach him the ropes, look after him till he was ready to stand on his own two feet. But Tommy ... always had to go his own way. Maybe he was right. In the end, I couldn’t even protect myself from my own partner.”
    “Why come to me?” I said, after a moment. “When you do, after all, have a whole Bureau of your own people to call on?”
    “Because none of them are up to this,” he said flatly. “Hell, maybe even the infamous John Taylor isn’t up to going head to head with Hadleigh Oblivion. But I can’t do this on my own. I need heavy-duty backup, in case it all goes ... Besides, you owe me. You promised me Tommy would be safe with you.”
    “Yes,” I said. “I did. You’d think I’d know better than to make promises like that.” I looked at him for a while. “You’ve never ... approved of me, Larry. Why is that?”
    “Because you’re not a real investigator. Not like me, or my father. We do the job the way it’s supposed to be done: taking statements, gathering evidence, putting the clues together to get a result. You have a gift that does half the work for you, and for the rest you rely on guesses, intuition, and