Under a Killing Moon

UAKM — CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ching and I discussed our plans for more than an hour. Talking to her, I came to the conclusion that she would be a good person to have in my camp. She said she had connections and would find a way for us to get passage to the lunar penal colony. Even I knew that getting to the moon required clearance, but Ching said it could be bought from the right people. We determined that it was too late to retrieve the satuette. All we could do now was try to find out what the cult planned to do. And the answer seemed to be off-planet.

Ching told me that she’d contact me as soon as she made arrangements, and then she left. Her thugs, who were intoduced as Lou and Felipe, didn’t seem too happy about me joining their vigilante band, but I shook their hands anyway and wished them a good night. When I was alone, I wondered if I was getting involved foolishly. I already suspected that I was getting in over my head, and everything Ching had told me seemed to confirm this. But the things she had said also led me to believe that if we didn’t do something, no one would. With CAPRICORN decimated, the Colonel dead, and the rest of the world in blissful ignorance, I was inclined to agree.

The question was, do what? We had almost no clue as to the cult’s intentions. What was the aim of the project at GRS? Why would they need to continue their work at the lunar penal colony? Again, I found myself asking a million questions and coming up with no answers. Maybe I just needed a few mugs of the Armageddon.

Business at the Brew & Stew was surprisingly slow. Even at eleven o’clock on a weeknight, the place was usually half full. When I stepped inside the diner, I counted eight heads. Rook was sitting on his preferred bar stool, playing chess with another old Mutant, who I didn’t recognize. Louie was leaning on the other side of the counter, intently watching the match. He looked up and waved. “Hey there, Murph. C’mon in! I think we can squeeze ya in somewhere.”

I sidled over to the bar and sat next to Rook’s back. Rook glanced over his shoulder.

“Well, if it isn’t Murphy. How goes the search for true love?”

“It’s a myth, Rook. The best I can hope for is the companionship of swell friends like you.”

Rook snorted and returned to his game. Louie grinned and shook my hand, but his expression became concerned when he noticed the knuckle-shaped marks on my chin.

“Geez, Murph, what happened?”

My hand went self-consciously to my jaw. “Oh, nothing. Shaving accident.”

Louie turned his head slightly and gave me the eye. “You gotta take better care. If you ain’t careful, yer gonna end up lookin’ like me.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Louie. You’re a handsome man.”

The big Mutant actually blushed. “So, what’ll yer poison be tonight?”

“Just a cup of the Armageddon.”

“Comin’ up.”

The television behind the bar was tuned to a music video station. If the on-screen action was indicatice of the music, I was glad the sound was muted. I heard Rook’s friend call check and decided to investigate the chess game. It didn’t require any neck cranning to look over Rook’s petite, rounded shoulder. I’d never been much of a chess player, though I’d loaded it on my computer. The chess program had ten levels. I could win on level one with my eyes closed, but level two beat the snot out of me every time. It was just like my experience with women. Almost exactly.

Despite my lack of chess expertise, it seemed pretty clear that Rook was being taken to school by his chess buddy. Rook seemed to sense that I was peeping an turned around indignantly. “Don’t you have something better to do than leer over my shoulder? Look, there’s a TV. Why don’t you watch that?”

I held up my hands. “Sorry, Rook. Don’t let me disturb you. Looks like you’re having a hard enough time without me witnessing the humiliation.”

“You are so very funny.” Rook turned back to the game as Louie emerged from the kitchen with a small plate and a steaming mug of java.

“Fresh pot. And I thought you might like a little something to munch on.”

Louie had cut up three or four kinds of cheese and laid the slices out with pieces of ham and turkey. There was even a dollop of brown mustard in the center of the plate. At any other restaurant in the city, this little dainty would’ve run anywhere from five bucks to a C-note — at Louie’s place, it came with the coffee. I helped myself to a chunk of sharp cheddar while Louie dipped a slice of turkey in the mustard.

“Tell me something, Louie. You ever gotten yourself into a situation and realized you’re in over your head?”

Louie chewed pensively, then took a sip off a can of Diet Shasta. “Sure. Got one of them right now, as a matter of fact.” He set the can down to free up his hands for gesturing.

“You see, my sister’s boy, Dalton, is graduating from Berkley. Now, I think of him like my own son, so I told him I would be at his graduation. Then, as luck would have it, my goddaughter is gettin’ married on the same day. Well, I wasn’t even thinkin’ about the graduation, and I said I’d come to the weddin’.”

“Same time of day?”

“Of course. So what do I do?”

I shrugged and took another piece of cheese. “Easy. Go to the graduation.”

Louie looked perplexed. “How come?”

“You only graduate once.”

Louie couldn’t argue with flawless logic and helped himself to a slice of ham. As he dabbed mustard, he gave me an appraising look. “You know what I think?”

“Probably not.”

“I think you need to find somebody nice and settle down. That’s what I’d do if I was you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It’s an image thing, you know. PIs and women mix like toothpaste and orange juice. Besides, I already tried it once.”

“I dunno, Murph. There’s nothin’ better than the love of a good woman.”

“Good woman are extinct.”

Louie grinned. “Not extinct. Endangered, maybe. But not extinct. I think yer too young to be givin’ up hope.”

I took a sip of hot coffee. “I don’t know, Louie. Things have gotten much easier since I gave up hope.”

My unwavering pessimism seemed to have won the day. Louie retreated to the kitchen for the pot of Armageddon. On the television, a hideously attractive young woman was writhing on camera, wearing two beer coasters and a scowl and not much more. Louie burst from the kitchen like an Olympic torch bearer and refilled my coffee mug.

“Fou prend reine! Echec et mat!”

I didn’t know French, but something in the phrase caught my ear. I turned to see Rook’s chess partner downing a shot, apparently celebrating his victory. I leaned around Rook and addressed the other man. “What did you just say?”

“Fou prend reine! Echec et mat!” Bishop takes queen — checkmate!”

Something was clicking in my head. “Fou means bishop?”

The old Mutant nodded and spoke with a slight accent.

“It means bishop, in regards to the chess piece. Fou is quite an interesting word. It is mostly used as a — what is the word?… adjective…”

While the pedant babbled on about linguistics, I was busy checking my pockets for the almost forgotten blue index card. It suddenly occured to me that I might have overlooked an interpretation for part of the code. The card was still in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and read it again. BXK+A261184. BxK. Bishop takes king. I turned to the old chess player and interrupted him in mid-sentence.

“Fou means bishop. What is the French word for king?”

“Roi.”

Roy. Colonel Roy O’Brien. All signs pointed to him being murdered by Jacques Fou.

The code had to be a message from the Colonel. Maybe he knew that Fou was after him and stood a decent chance of getting him. So what did the rest of the code refer to? I handed the card to the old Mutant.

“Does this mean anything to you?”

The old man studied the card, rubbing his chin. “Well… I don’t know about the numbers on the end, but the first part could, perhaps, have something to do with chess notation.

Bishop captures king. Check. That is what the plus sign means. Then A2. That would be the Rook’s pawn.”

Rook’s pawn? I ran the words together. Fou captures Roi… check… Rook’s pawn… 61184.

The message suddenly made sense. I turned to Rook and pointed to the last five numbers. “Could these be the numbers from one of your pawn tickets?”

Rook tilted his head back and peered through the lower half of his bifocals. “I suppose so.”

Even Rook seemed excited as the four of us bolted from the diner and hurried up the street to the pawnshop. Rook reached the door first, fumbled with a huge ring of keys, and finally swung the door open. Louie, the old Frenchman, and I followed him inside.

The smells here were not as warm and comfortable as those at the Brew & Stew, but they were not unpleasant. The shop reeked of water-stained maps, dusty steamer trunks, and crackling parchment.

Rook moved to the other side of the counter and reached underneath for a large ledger.

“What were the numbers again?”

“61184.”

Rook flipped open the tome and pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Let’s see.

Hmm… yes. Here it is. No name listed. I paid out fifty dollars.”

Rook looked up and peered at me over the top of his spectacles. “I will expect to be compensated for this item.”

Louie groaned. “For cryin’ out loud, Rook. Will ya just get the darn thing? I’ll give ya the fifty bucks if ya think it’s gonna put ya outta business.”

Rook wanted to argue the point, but was outnumbered. He closed the ledger and scuttled off into the back room. Less than a minute later, he reappeared and set a small package on the counter, wrapped in newspaper. Rook glared at me impatiently. “Well, don’t just stand there. Open it!”

I walked to the counter and nervously undid the wrapping. The box underneath was plain cardboard. I opened the box and looked inside. There was a watch and a folded piece of paper. I pulled out the watch and inspected it briefly before handing it to Louie.

Then I picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. The note was handwritten. I scanned through the contents quickly, then saw the Colonel’s signature at the bottom.

“Come on, Murphy. Let’s hear it.” Rook was examining the watch carefully. I doubted that he, or the other men, would have the faintest idea what the contents of the letter meant, but the least I could do was humor them. I cleared my throat and started to read.

I folded the note and looked around at my companions. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

The three Mutants looked confused.

“I’ll have to kill all of you.”

Back in my office, I inspected the watch. It had an inexpensive, though perfectly acceptable leather band. The face was quite large, round, and white, with old-fashioned hour, minute, and second hands that actually moved over roman-numeral-type-numbers.

The rim around the face had been painted gold, but it was slightly chipped and scratched. There was a winding knob on the side, which made it look antique, but it was just for show. The watch had a self-winding perpetual-motion mechanism. It was just the kind of portable timepiece I would’ve bought for myself.

After twenty minutes of jiggling, prodding, and winding, it still appeared to be exactly what it appeared to be. I fastened the watch onto my left wrist — it looked good on me.

Maybe I was too late to make the delivery to Paul DuBois, and maybe the Colonel’s dying request was a bust. At least I’d scored a nice watch.

And now I had a different perspective on the Colonel’s visit to my office. He’d probably dropped off the package at the pawnshop just before or after I’d spoken with him. And he was the one who’d sent me the index card, obviously assuming that I would figure out the code sooner than I had. Well, there was nothing I could do about it now. As far as I knew, both the Colonel and DuBois were dead. CAPRICORN was dismantled, and there were no connections left to the mole in GRS. If the cult actually existed, it looked as though it had nothing but smooth sailing ahead. As for the watch, I figured I’d hold onto it until I made contact with someone from CAPRICORN, and then I’d hand it over.

My musings were interrupted by a beep on the vid-phone. I glanced at my new watch — it was after midnight. I flipped on the viewscreen, and Eddie Ching’s face appeared.

“Ready to go?”

“That’s what all my good friends call me. Where are you?”

“The spaceport. Terminal G. Meet me at the courtesy phones in a half hour.”