Pelagis
The dreaded first fog of autumn descended on Pelagis, and the less noticeable pedestrians vexed the natives on their commute to work while amateur artists roamed the sidewalks and parks taking perspective shots of fountains and statues with faded building silhouettes in the background. Gothren drove home when the sun set, and the misty street lamps did their best to illuminate Pelagis’ wide streets. He turned into his home spot, pulled the parking brake, and stepped out of the car. Though he did not collide with any civilians, the scent of zuvaka did. On his stoop he spotted the flicked bud of a zuavka cigarette. He grimaced, “Filthy.”
He kicked it to the side behind a bush, figuring nature or a gardener would take care of it. Walking up his stoop he found his key and raised his hand up to unlock it. The door squeaked open, and he sighed wondering when the landlord would oil it again. On the thought of sound, the apartment had an uncomfortable silence to it. He walked up the stairs and midway down the second story hallway to unlock his door into his apartment.
The creepy feeling never settled, but it wasn’t going to keep him from his daily reading rituals. He stepped to the kitchen to grab a beer, and when he flicked on the light, a set of dark blue eyes were watching him. He flinched back eyeing the tan Ozian woman up and down, his heart quickly pumping the adrenaline throughout his body. She wore one of those Ozian keffiyehs over a black coat that hugged her body all the way to her thigh and propped one leg over her knee which showed gray slacks and scuffed women’s flats.
“Looking for one of these?” She waved three bottles of beer in her hands and opened each with the bowl of one of his spoons.
He clenched his chest with his right hand and took a few deep breaths before speaking, “Sure, help yourself.”
“Come sit.”
He rolled his eyes until he felt a presence behind him. Turning his head he met the barrel of a silenced .22 pistol. Behind it were a pair of maroon eyes staring down the sights, she spoke now, “She said come sit.” She wore very similar attire as the other woman.
Back at the table, the woman pushed beers on each side of the breakfast table, “I’d do as she says, she’s shot the fly off a bison’s ass with that.”
Gothren had to tell himself not to freeze and move towards the table, the woman behind him kept to his pace, still pointing the silenced pistol towards him. She eased into her seat at the same time he did. The blue eyed woman pushed the book he was reading towards him, “I was a bit disappointed with your collection, The Ethical Man is Reasonably Socialist book by that hack of an Aelu’zhi philosopher. Read the source.” She leaned in, “We Ozians invented socialism. Madame Ousi herself came up with both the utility function and the merits of controlling rogue markets.”
When she finished talking he took a moment to look at the gun then back at her, “I take it you’re not from a direship if you’re mentioning Madame Ousi, you managed to find your way into my apartment without breaking anything, and you opened these bottles with a spoon, which I never fathomed could be possible, so you’re probably some scary operatives from Ozia.”
The blue eyed woman responded, “You see Saul? He’s a bright one. Most of the MIA think we’re just petty criminals or lost from little Ozia.”
Saul talked back to her, still staring at him with the pistol drawn, “Right you are as always Larry. Tell him why we’re here then.”
“Right, the reason we’re here.” She took a leather case from inside her jacket, removing two zuavka mini-cigars, and lit them with a match from a Q-club matchbook. “Want one?”
He grimaced and shook his head, the smell would be in his kitchen for weeks now.
She passed one of the lit cigars to her partner then held it idly next to her with her arm leaning back against the top of chair, “Let me just clarify that we’re on your side.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“We trust you the most, mostly because you have the most to lose. We also have information you’d greatly like, but first let’s just get the unfriendly stuff out of the way.” gripped a folder from a pile of manila folders next to her on the table, and she spread out large photos of Galyn and him meeting with the Letonnan Emperor. “We also have you on a recording talking to Agent Doofus here about hiring him on as a double agent.”
Saul spoke, “That’s treason against your King”
“Right, the weasel wouldn’t like these. You’d be hanged for this.”
He looked down at the photos then took a long deep drink of his beer. He wiped his mouth and looked up at Larry, “So you’re blackmailing me, and you’re helping me?”
She looked around the room then nodded, “Uh, yeah. As far as we’re concerned, we never met. This is just the evidence needed to make you not missed.”
Saul said, “If not us, one of our comrades would happily make you disappear, and you’d wish you were hanged.”
Larry nodded, “So, say you promise or else,” she pulled another leather case out, and she unrolled it onto the table. Inside lay a couple of syringes and a bottle. “You’ll go to sleep, and believe this was all a dream.” She held up the bottle and read the label on, ”Also you’d be at risk for brain cancer later in life.”
The beer was harder to swallow now, but he managed to gulp it down, “I promise, we never met.”
They both said in unison, “Good.”
Larry picked out another folder, this time throwing out papers of account information an internal memos, “So we have some treats for you, for your loyalty. We have here some definitive proof that Petê issued the material and financial support for these Neustrians. Just in case you don’t have any.”
Gothren arched an eyebrow towards her as he looked through the documents, “Why are you giving this to me?”
“We’ll get to that.” She then selected another folder. “We also know that you’re trying to find the elusive leader of these pesky Neustrians. We’ve pinpointed his approximate location at this old Neustrian estate outside of Khenstein.”
She pushed the rest of the reports to him, “Some Myrorian armory records, before and after tampering, showing what was given to them. Then of course, why we’re here. Why are we here Saul?”
Saul spoke, “We want in.”
“We want in Letonna that is with your imbecile MIA double too. He could be useful.”
Saul laughed.
“He can act as our ‘RIP’”
“Tell him what RIP stands for”
“Resident Indigenous Person. It’s a joke because we Ozians are tan, and you’re white, and we have these buggy eyes and can’t blend in, so we use these RIPs to get into dangerous situations, and then most of them die. Thus why RIP is so funny.”
“Larry you can’t explain the jokes, then it becomes unfunny.”
“He’s Keihesse’zhi, he can’t understand our humor.”
“Whatever.”
Gothren realized while the two were talking that they had impeccable Inglish accents for Ozians, but his amazement dwindled when he saw how much zuavka smoke they were generating. The two continued to talk between each other like they were completing each others’ thoughts.
“So we need this white guy to do errands for us, and we think we can find the leader, soonish or whatever.”
“Larry, you haven’t told him why we came to him specifically yet.”
“Oh yeah. You’re easier to blackmail. Also the Letonnan Emperor and our MIA contacts aren’t very discrete.”
“We also shipped something to your apartment so we’re going to stay here until arrives.”
“Yes we need our guitars.”
“More than that piccalo she’s got pointed at you.”
“Iseltov guitars.”
“They didn’t want to send SOSOT, Ozian People’s Army, or Ozian Rats, so they sent us.”
Gothren could finally stop moving his eyes between Saul and Larry like a tennis match when Larry said, “What do you say? Will you harbor Ozian agents or have mush-brain for a night? Either answer we’re going to drink all your beer before we leave. To help comfort any inhibitions we can act as an Ozian folk band hosted by yourself.”
Gothren picked up one of the folders listing contacts and approximations of the estate in question, then looked between the two Ozians and the gun. Sera, they’re good. After all this time facing a gun he became quite comfortable, “Why do you have to stay here?”
“It’s just easier and because beer.”
Saul nodded, “Beer.”
He shuffled all the information into their respective folders again nodding to them then furrowing his eyebrows at the amount of smoke in his kitchen, “I have a living room where I smoke. If you have to smoke zuavka, and are you going to point that damned gun at me the whole time?”
Larry nodded to Saul, and she slipped it back into her coat holster. Larry said, “So who wants another beer?”
Saul raised her hand, “Oh I do!”
“Then go grab three!”
Gothren sighed.
