Read Online Wild Cards [05] Down and Dirty by George R.R. Martin - Free Book Online Page A

Bludgeon.
    Mazzucchelli scowled and Croyd grinned. "Humor," he said. "What can I do for you?"
    "Crenson," the other stated, "that's your last name. See, I do know you. I know a lot about you. I've been stringing you along. That's humor. I know you're pretty good, and you usually deliver what you promise. But we got some things to talk about before we talk about other things. You know what I mean?"
    "No," Croyd answered. "But I'm willing to learn."
    "You want anything while we're talking?"
    "I'd like to try the linguini again," Croyd said,
    "and another bottle of Chianti."
    Mazzucchelli raised his hand, snapped his fingers. A waiter rushed into the room.
    "Linguini, e una bottiglia," he said. "Chianti."
    The man hurried off. Croyd rubbed his hands together, to the accompaniment of a faint crackling sound.
    "The one who just left. . . ," Mazzucchelli said at length. "Bludgeon...."
    "Yes?" Croyd said, after an appropriate wait. "He'll make a good soldier," Mazzucchelli finished. Croyd nodded. " I suppose so."
    "But you, you have some skills besides what the virus gave you. I understand you are a pretty good second-story man. You knew old Bentley."
    Croyd nodded again. "He was my teacher. I knew him back when he was a dog. You seem to know more about me than most people do."
    Mazzucchelli removed his toothpick, sipped his beer. "That's my business," he said after a time, "knowing things. That's why I don't want to send you off to be a soldier."
    The waiter returned with a plate of linguini, a glass, and a bottle, which he proceeded to uncork. He passed Croyd a setting from the next booth. Croyd immediately began to eat with a certain manic gusto that Mazzucchelli found vaguely unsettling.
    Croyd paused long enough to ask, "So what is it you've got in mind for me?"
    "Something a little more subtle, if you're the right man for it."
    "Subtle. I'm right for subtle," Croyd said.
    Mazzucchelli raised a finger. "First," he said, "one of those things we talk about before we talk about other things." Observing the speed with which Croyd's plate was growing empty, he snapped his fingers again and the waiter rushed in with another load of linguini.
    "What thing?" Croyd asked, pushing aside the first plate as the second slid into place before him.
    Mazzucchelli laid his hand on Croyd's left arm in an almost fatherly fashion and leaned forward. " I understand you got problems," he said.
    "What do you mean?"
    "I have heard that you are into speed," Mazzucchelli observed, "and that every now and then you become a raging maniac, killing people, destroying property and wreaking general havoc until you run out of steam or some ace who knows you takes pity and puts you down for the count."
    Croyd laid his fork aside and quaffed a glass of wine. "This is true," he said, "though it is not something I enjoy talking about."
    Mazzucchelli shrugged. "Everybody has the right to a little fun every now and then," he stated. "I ask only for business reasons. I would not like to have you act this way if you were working for me on something sensitive."
    "The behavior of which you've heard is not an indulgence," Croyd explained. "It becomes something of a necessity, though, after I've been awake a certain period of time."
    "Uh-you anywhere near that point yet?"
    "Nowhere near," Croyd replied. "There's nothing to worry about for a long while."
    "If I was to hire you, I'd rather I didn't worry about it at all. Now, it's no good asking somebody not to be a user. But I want to know this: Have you got enough sense when you start on the speed that you can take yourself off of my work? Then go crash and burn someplace not connected with what you're doing for me?"
    Croyd studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I see what you mean," he said. "If that's what the job calls for, sure, I can do it. No problem."
    "With that understanding, I want to hire you. It's a little more subtle than breaking heads, though. And it isn't any sort of simple burglary either."
    "I've