Back Across the Bridge. Chapter One.

A lot of people think you should wear black at night. That it will help you blend in. Black or dark grey. Like the spies and assassins on the stage and in the lurid paperbacks they sell at every fuel station and grocery store. Apparently the writer has written more books than anyone, even though you've never met anyone whose read their work. No matter how bored they were at the airport. You don't wear black to blend in with the night. You wear a nice dark blue. That's what I was wearing now.

Not two hours earlier I was passing the time on a street car back to my office by counting and recounting the payment I got for tracking down a rich brat and trussing him up like a turkey. Nine hundred and fifty gold pieces in equivalent folding money. I slid the envelope into the pocket of my coat while my face gave some consideration to smiling. I thought about a thick, fat steak dinner and a new desk that didn't need three large books under it to not wobble.

I had company waiting for me at my office. Right on the other side of the door. Five flat, white hard edged dream crushers who only get more dangerous when you open them up with a knife. Every single one of them called bill. Office rent. Apartment rent. Health Insurance. Council Rates. Goblin Tax.

When they all come at once they're hard to manage. I resigned myself to another month of not being able to use my dictionaries and eating grilled cheese sandwiches.

The last envelope in the pile, though... It wasn't asking for money, it was asking for help. It wanted to know if I could be at a certain place by a certain time and that time was tonight. Between the invitation and sitting my desk pondering on the grim mathematics of my ongoing sustenance I decided to shower up and head out.

So now I was standing at the bottom of of a split levelled set of marble steps that neatly divided the sloping front lawn of a house that was the size of a modest supermarket and only slightly more tasteful. I thought about every time my job had taken me to a bordello, gambling den or overpriced skin joint and how I never felt ashamed to be seen there. For tonight, though? I'm wearing my dark blue suit and hat. I went up the stairs.

I pushed the buzzer and was promptly greeted by a blooch in crisp burgundy slacks, white wing tips and black shirt with fine white stripes. He nodded and smiled as he opened the door. “Mr Nagakura, Mr Saddleworth appreciates you coming on such short notice.” The big blue man gave a small smile and held out his hand. I placed my hat in it and thanked him. He nodded appreciatively and then held out his other hand. I tilted my head.

“I'm sorry, sir. Your weapon, sir.” I clicked my tongue and drew the snub nose out of my shoulder holster. “I'm sure you understand, Mr Nagakura. On account of Mr Saddleworth's position.” I suppose I must have nodded. The valet gave me a patient grin as a I shook the cartridges loose and pocketed them before handing him the gun. He did the faintest cock of one eyebrow.

“I don't hand anyone a loaded gun unless I get to keep mine. Do I still get to proceed or are you afraid I'm gonna feed him the bullets?” The blooch gave me a closed lipped smile that would turn your coffee cold then took me down a long hallway.

At the end of a the hallway was a large set of oak double doors. Through those doors was a desk and behind that desk was a red headed, bespectacled and obviously busy man. He paused his mountain of paper work and took off his glasses as we entered. “Ah. Thank you, Barbadillo. That will be all for to-night. Mr Nagakura, please have a seat.” Barbadillo gave a smooth nod and shut the double doors as he left.

It was a nice enough office. Crisp blue linen curtains absentmindedly left open told me he'd been working at his desk since at least four in the afternoon and hadn't troubled his valet to close them or so much as asked for an orange juice. Four mismatched bookcases that had collected no dust were braced against the left and right walls. He either studies a lot or spend far too much time pretending to look like he does. He's a career politician. Either makes sense.

I sat in one of the wood framed red leather chairs provided for guests. I sat on the edge of the seat, which made me appear more interested than I was and additionally spared me the indignity of having my feet dangle off the ground like a kid sitting at the grown up table. I shook a cigarette loose from a soft pack and placed it in my mouth.

“Ah! I'm sorry but I can't have anyone smoke in here. Between the carpets and the curtains I can never get the smell out. Also, it does kinda make me short of breath. You would not believe how much talking I have to do for this job.” Keeping the cigarette in my mouth, I wordlessly glanced at the leaded crystal dish sitting among the papers and books on the desk.

Saddleworth noticed my glance and gave a slightly bashful smile. “Oh, I understand your confusion!” he took out a paper bag from his desk drawer and shook some of the contents onto the blotter. “Sunflower seeds. Developed a taste for them growing up in Akubeska – hence the accent you know. Helps me get through long nights of paperwork.” he put a few seeds in his mouth. He rolled his tongue around as he chewed. “You can buy them shelled these days but c'mon the spitting is half the fun.” He spat some empty shells into the dish. He had done it a lot.

I put the cigarette back in my coat pocket. “If I walk around the circumference of your house and come back in a few minutes will you be ready to tell me why you wanted to see me?” The grel seemed taken aback by that.

“Mr Nagakura did I do something to upset you?”

I scratched my neck and sniffed. “There was a poster advertisement for cherry grink with a particularly cute girl on it I could see from my office window. Your gubernatorial campaign posters covered over it. Great slogan though -'Backin' the Saddleworth'. Very clever.”

He lowered his head and did a real or very convincing snort chuckle. “She is cute, huh?” He spat another seed out. “Just my type if I could pull myself away from my work.” He clasped his boney, ink smeared hands and gave me a good-natured smile. There was another pause. His smile softened ever so slightly. “I don't blame you for not really liking politicians Mr Nagakura. What sort of maniac wakes up one morning and says to themselves 'hey, you know who this world needs? Big hunky me! '” A chuckle rattled off the back of my teeth but I kept it in.

He looked sympathetic.

“It's a dirty business, Mr Nagakura. It follows that they would only offer dirty jobs.”

I rested my elbows on my knees and exhaled. “I don't have to take it if I don't like it. I'm sure you could find someone else and I'm not hard up for work at the moment.” The forth toe on my right foot wiggles when I lie. So long as no one ever interviews me in a sauna, it shouldn't be a problem.

Saddleworth spat his last seed “Ah, true. But I definitely want you for this job.” I raised my head to meet his gaze. “The first of many, I hope in fact. I would like for you to be my go to problem solver.”

I licked my teeth. “Is that good P.R?”

He splayed his fingers and beamed. “It damned well oughtta be! The world is changing Mr Nagakura. I am sick and tired of there being good, hardworking people in this town who don't get to enjoy the rights the rest of us take for granted. It's time for the folks in this city to step into a new century or fall behind. Folks said I shouldn't run for Warden with a blooch as my personal assistant. Some folks said I shouldn't even pay him! But I won that election in landslide! So now I'm shooting for Governor of the city. Governor of Atonak! and yeah, I want a goblin. A goblin like you doing things for me to drill into these cavemen that an understanding between our species is the future. Like it or not.”

I took a sunflower seed off his desk and cracked it open with my nails. I bobbed my eyebrows at him. “That didn't sound rehearsed.”

He grinned proudly and I realized I was smiling a little too. “Make no mistake, Mr Nagakura I do also keep my ear to the ground. You're discreet. You're efficient. And by all accounts – clean.”

I dropped the seed into my mouth. “Try to be. I work at four hundred a day plus expenses. Six hundred as a retainer.”

The grel had already begun counting out the bills on to his desk. “Let's call it six fifty as thanks for hearing me out.” He divided the money by hundreds, twenties and tens so I could count it myself before snapping a band on it and passing it to me with both hands.

I slipped it into my coat and patted my pocket. “So, what do you need from me, Mr Saddleworth?”

“Please.” he smiled “Call me Max.”