The Truth

going to the nearest apothecary,” said William, “and then I’m going to drop in at my lodgings for that key, and then…I’m going to see a man about a dog.”

    The New Firm hurtled through the door of the empty mansion and bolted it behind them.
    Mr. Tulip ripped off the bride of innocence outfit and hurled it onto the floor.
    “I told you —ing clever plans never work!” he said.
    “A vampire, ” said Mr. Pin. “This is a sick city, Mr. Tulip.”
    “What was that he —ing did to us?”
    “He took some kind of picture,” said Mr. Pin. He closed his eyes for a moment. His head was aching.
    “Well, I was in disguise,” said Mr. Tulip.
    Mr. Pin shrugged. Even with a metal bucket over his head, which would probably begin to corrode after a few minutes, there was something recognizable about Mr. Tulip.
    “I don’t think that will do any good,” he said.
    “I —ing hates pictures,” snarled Mr. Tulip. “Remember that time in Mouldavia? All them posters they did? It’s bad for a man’s health, seeing his —ing phiz on every wall with ‘Dead or Alive’ under it. It’s like they can’t —ing decide.”
    Mr. Tulip fished out a small bag of what he had been assured was primo Smudge, but which would turn out to be sugar and powdered pigeon guano.
    “Anyway, we must’ve got the —ing dog,” he said.
    “We can’t be sure,” said Mr. Pin. He winced again. The headache was getting quite strong.
    “Look, we done the —ing job,” said Mr. Tulip. “I don’t recall no one telling us about —ing werewolves and vampires. That’s their —ing problem! I say we scrag the geek, take the money, and head for Pseudopolis or someplace!”
    “You mean quit on a contract?”
    “Yeah, when it’s got small print you can’t —ing see!”
    “Someone’ll recognize Charlie, though. Seems it’s hard for the dead to stay dead around here.”
    “I reckon I could help in that —ing respect,” said Mr. Tulip.
    Mr. Pin chewed his lip. He knew better than Mr. Tulip that men in their business needed a certain…reputation. Things didn’t get written down. But the word got about. The New Firm sometimes dealt with very serious players, and they were people who took a lot of notice of the word…
    But Tulip did have a point. This place was getting to Mr. Pin. It jarred his sensibilities. Vampires and werewolves…springing that sort of thing on a body, that wasn’t according to the rules. That was taking liberties. Yes…there was more than one way to keep a reputation.
    “I think we should go and explain things to our lawyer friend,” he said slowly.
    “Right!” said Mr. Tulip. “And then I’ll rip his head off.”
    “That doesn’t kill zombies.”
    “Good, ’cos then he’ll be able to see where I’m gonna —ing shove it.”
    “And then…we’ll pay another visit to that newspaper. When it’s dark.”
    To get that picture, he thought. That was a good reason. It was a reason that you could tell the world. But there was another reason. That…burst of darkness had frightened Mr. Pin to his shriveled soul. A lot of memories had come pouring back, all at once.
    Mr. Pin had made a lot of enemies, but that hadn’t worried him up until now because all his enemies were dead. But the dark light had fired off bits of his mind and it had seemed to him that those enemies had not vanished from the universe but had merely gone a long way away, from which point they were watching him. And it was a long way away only from his point of view—from their point of view they could reach out and touch him.
    What he wouldn’t say, even to Mr. Tulip, was this: they’d need all the money from this job because, in a flash of dark, he’d seen that it was time to retire.
    Theology was not a field in which Mr. Pin had much knowledge, despite accompanying Mr. Tulip to a number of the more well-designed temples and chapels, on one occasion to scrag a high priest who’d tried to double-cross Frank “Nutboy” Nabbs, but the little he had absorbed was suggesting to him that this might be the very best time to take a bit of an interest. He could send them some money, maybe, or at least return some of the stuff he’d taken. Hell, maybe he could start not eating beef on Tuesdays or whatever it was you had to do. Maybe that would stop this feeling that the back of his head had just been unscrewed.
    He knew that would have to be later, though. Right now, the code allowed them to do one of two things: they could