Suicide, Inc

CHAPTER 17

“You don’t have a trusting nature,” said Whistler. “A handicap such as that can seriously-”

“You folks have lied to me from the-”

“Nope, not so,” said the floating terminal. “First off, take a squint of this, Smitty.” It whirred faintly and then a sheet of faxpape came fluttering out of its underside.

Smith caught the sheet before it hit the storeroom floor. “List of five names. Oscar Ruiz, Bryson Winiarsky, Annalee Kitchen, Liz Vertillion and Thomas Yanayir,” he said. “This is the same list you gave me when I signed on to-”

“What you hold in your mitt is a dupe of the very list Triplan gave us,” said the terminal. “Compare it with the typography on that stuff Saint swiped.”

Smith did. “Okay, they match.”

“Furthermore, Triplan never told us anything about a secret process for making gold, silver and what have you,” continued Whistler. “Not being dimwits, however, we realized there was more to this caper than a sentimental urge to get the old gang together again. We told you so at the start, so did Doc Winner.”

Cruz shifted his feet atop the crate. “You contend you didn’t know that Jared and not this Yanayir lad was the one they wanted?”

“We were only told it was important to have Smith work on the case, not that-”

Tippy tap tap! Tap tap tappy!

Saint sat up straight. “Jove! What’s that deucedly odd noise?”

Cruz kicked the crate and the sound ceased. “Must be my tapdancing androids awakening. Continue, Whistler.”

“You galoots are blaming us for the duplicities the client pulled,” the computer terminal told them.

“Even so,” said Smith, “I don’t see how I can keep on working for you.”

“Whyever not, Smitty?”

“Because what I want to do is find the three others on this damn list,” he explained. “Tell them what’s going on, keep them from getting grabbed or killed. Then we can see about making a deal with Triplan.”

“You can cross Annalee Kitchen off the list, by the way.”

“She’s dead, too?”

“No, fit as a fiddle and happy as a snerg,” replied Whistler. “It’s only that the lady walked into Horizon House late yesterday and announced she’d heard they were looking for her.”

Smith said, “Then maybe she’s safe.”

Watching the floating terminal, Cruz inquired, “You won’t bitch if the three of us keep on with the hunt? Doing it Jared’s way?”

“We were paid our fee long since,” Whistler answered. “And we’ve been treated badly by our client. Do what you want to do and we’ll stay on the sidelines and observe. If it looks like you’re doing something too shady, we’ll pop in on you.”

After a few seconds Smith said, “Okay, it’s a deal.”

“Just because some people call us Suicide, Inc.,” said Whistler, “doesn’t mean we can’t be amiable.” He flickered and vanished.