Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,10
raised his eyebrows, but Eric shook his head.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Okay, talk,” said Sam.
“Hell, Sam,” said Tom-Tom, looking after the duck, “are you still carrying on with…you are after all…that bird must have been over sixty?”
“Sweet crow, as long as they pay they can be over a hundred,” Sam replied. “And that goes for you, too, Eric. And if you ask really nicely you might not have to pay at all.”
The bear ignored the invitation and got right to business.
“This is how things stand,” said Eric, who knew that Sam wouldn’t be satisfied with anything other than the truth. “I’ve gotten an assignment from an old acquaintance. We’re going to find the Death List. And we’re going to be sure to remove his name from it.”
For once—this happened very seldom—Sam Gazelle had nothing to say. He was taken by surprise, astonished, and he stared suspiciously at Eric, who realized that the moment was perfect for proposing the first part of his plan.
“Sam,” he said, “I was thinking I might rent your apartment. Starting now, and for a week or so going forward. As long as needed. This will be our headquarters.”
“Darling, I haven’t even said if I want to be involved or not,” the gazelle protested.
“I’ll pay more than the rent, of course. And whether we end up succeeding or not, I guarantee that you will be liberally paid for your efforts.”
“Exactly what do you mean by ‘liberally’?” asked the gazelle.
And Eric Bear concocted a story about how much Nicholas Dove would pay, and half in advance if they failed, and it was no more difficult than that to entice Sam Gazelle to join up as well.
Sam filled two more glasses with water, and the three animals made a toast.
“An advance in case we don’t succeed sounds good,” said Sam, “especially since there isn’t any Death List, is there?”
His light, whinnying laughter rang again like a small bell.
CHAPTER 5
Back then the four of them had never been inseparable musketeers. Sam Gazelle was most often so drugged up he had a hard time telling one musketeer from another, and Snake Marek was only loyal to a single animal: himself. Eric Bear never counted; everyone knew he was only passing through the underworld.
On those occasions when Nicholas Dove commissioned them to work together it had always been a matter of chance, but each time they were surprised by how well they functioned together. No one encroached on the other’s territory. Eric was the energy; he was the ignition key while Tom-Tom was the motor, the force. Sam was the one who supplied courage and irreverence and found paths that no one else dared to tread. Snake Marek was the uncrowned king of intrigue who anticipated their opponents’ responses and removed obstacles before anyone even had time to set them up.
Snake was the first in the foursome to make himself independent from Nicholas Dove and move out of Casino Monokowski. That was a great, difficult decision, and no one criticized him for not keeping in touch. It was all or nothing, and that’s how it had to be.
Snake found a small apartment up in north Lanceheim and, after a few lost years in the finance business, landed in the environment for which he was intended. He applied for, and got, a job as administrative assistant at the Environmental Ministry. He understood very quickly that his particular talent for persuasion suited public administration. He was not a social snake, seldom evoked sympathy among his closest associates, and didn’t have a favorable appearance. He was a pale-green reptile with yellowish eyes, and despite the fact that he slinked upright through life, he needed something to stand on—a bench or a table or a box—so as not to feel inferior. Nevertheless, he made a career. When Eric Bear found him—roughly the same time as Tom-Tom and Sam came to life on Friday morning in the newly established headquarters at Yiala’s Arch—Snake Marek had held the position as head of the Office of Grants within the Ministry of Culture for many years.
Marek’s office was at the end of a long corridor of linoleum floors and dark-blue walls where posters advertising obscure cultural events were taped up. The office was a narrow cubicle with a rectangular window which the sun never reached. There was no smell whatsoever, neither in the office nor out in the corridor, and no other animals were to be seen.
“I only have ten minutes” was the first thing Snake Marek said to Eric Bear after