XIV: On The Trail
Spike awoke to hot dog breath in his face. Damn, Faye, he thought as he swam out of a hazy dream, that's disgusting. He raised a stiff arm to rub his eyes, and a sharp stabbing pain in his stomach made him gasp. The hazy recollection of the tall man and the bodyguard and the gunshots returned, and he groaned. I was just healed up from the last time, too. Fucking assholes. The dog breath drew even nearer to his face, and he opened his eyes, almost gagging from the smell.
Ein's chestnut eyes peered down at him, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping slimy drool.
"Oh, it's you," Spike wheezed. "Wait a minute..."
Spike was really getting tired of waking up full of bullets in unfamiliar places. He strained to prop himself up on his elbows to look around the darkened room, and he noticed that his legs were tied to the bed with lengths of rough rope. The knots looked familiar. He had learned them himself from the Dragons all of those years ago, crouching terrified in the back of a bar after a gunfight as he watched the older guys truss up the waiters like Ganymede lobsters in a restaurant tank.
His heart raced, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. The room was humid and hot, and something in the air reminded him of a jungle; rich fertile soil and thick underbrush. Where had they taken him? Ein panted anxiously next to him, padding clumsily over the lumpy mattress with his furry paws. Like Spike, he was also tied to the metal bed frame.
So it had finally happened. The syndicate had caught up with him at last. What a fool he had been to allow himself to think that he had outrun them. With a rush of fear, he prayed that Faye wouldn't try to rescue him, and that she and Ed were unaware and far away from wherever the men had taken him.
Gritting his teeth, Spike sat upright, ignoring the agony in his midsection. He began to tug at the knots in the ropes. As the fibers began to loosen, the door flung open. He froze and steeled himself.
The tall man and the bodyguard sidled inside, quickly locking the door again behind them. Spike spotted their pistols and gulped. The thuggish bodyguard skulked in the corner, one hand loosely wrapped around the trigger of the gun.
The tall man approached him, his face inscrutable in the shadows.
"Spike Spiegel. I've waited a long time to talk to you, you know," he said quietly. Spike said nothing. A car whizzed by outside, and the man's close-set eyes glinted in the fractured beams of the headlights for a moment.
"So many things I need to ask you. I'm sorry I had to shoot you, but you weren't behaving nicely, you know," he sighed. "I do hope you'll cooperate from now on. It's going to be a lot easier if you do."
"If you think I'm going to help you, you're full of shit. Spare me the theatrics and just kill me if that's what you're going to do," Spike muttered. His heart pounded in his throat, but the longer he could keep his cool, the longer he had to figure out a plan.
The tall man balled up his fists, trembling slightly. "Always so blasé, weren't you, Spiegel? I don't know how the Van put up with you for so long."
Spike's pulse quickened at the mention of the Van. His skin prickled as he broke in to a sweat. Through the walls, he heard the bustle of a city: distant sirens, car horns, trains rumbling, the chatter of a busy street. Night birds called through the darkness, their liquid songs exotic and unfamiliar.
"Oh, just get this over with already. What do you want from me, you little twat?" Spike yawned, feigning boredom.
Never show fear: that was the first rule. It worked with aggressive dogs and aggressive men alike. The tall man snarled wordlessly and smacked him across the face. Ein barked furiously and lunged at the tall man, only to fall back, cowering, as his leash pulled taut and choked him. Spike spat out a mouthful of blood and laughed. Good, he thought with grim satisfaction. Let the son of a bitch get riled up and lose his train of thought. In the corner, the bodyguard fiddled with the hem of his jacket.
"You bastard! Don't you get it, Spiegel?" the tall man shrieked. "I'm the one in charge here. Me! Now talk! How did you do what you did? Why did Mao favor you for so long?" He leapt from the chair and began to pace frantically around Spike's bed. "You should be grateful to me! I'm the one who saved you back in Tharsis City! ME! Now explain everything! Do it now," he finished, his voice rising to a panicked whine.
Spike grimaced. "All right." He paused, pressing his hand to his wounded stomach and suppressing a wave of nausea. "I'll talk."
It had been a few months since Jet had tracked down a bounty, and he felt rusty. Still, he had always liked Venus. He meandered through the marketplace, letting the intense sunshine seep into his tired muscles. Rows of shabby tents lined the streets, their vendors hawking perfectly formed piles of brilliantly colored spices, intricately patterned pottery and tiles, mysterious bottles of tinctures and potions, and aromatic hunks of spicy grilled meat on skewers. Jet's stomach rumbled as he passed the food, but he wanted to get at least a few leads on Ein's whereabouts before calling it a day and returning to the Bebop. So far, nobody had heard anything about the corgi, but everyone was polite and friendly to him. People kept offering him samples: little bits of of grape leaves and hummus to eat, perfumed oil to rub on his mechanical arm. Jet ducked under the flaps of a crowded tent on the street corner and wondered idly if warm climates created warmer people.
An interested throng of people in long robes clustered around a counter, and Jet peered curiously over their turbaned heads. Three old men stood behind the counter, chopping up hunks of strange-colored meat and throwing it into a steaming wok. Cigarette smoke mixed with the odors of sautéed garlic and strong, musky cologne.
"Come right up, son, we have the best deals on Venus," croaked one of the old men. "You haven't seen prices like this since the Gate accident!"
Jet chuckled to himself as the customers began to haggle. He knew he had seen these guys somewhere. The smallest of the trio crowed with laughter and slapped the other two men on their frail arms.
"Ha! You don't remember a thing about the Gate. We were too busy digging it out, remember? You got hit in the head by our shovels too many times."
The old man chopping the meat paused and took a swig from a bottle of beer.
"Oh, you always give me such a hard time," he griped, wiping his mustache with his meat-covered hand. Jet pushed through the crowd and sidled up to the counter. He still needed to keep searching, but he was getting too hungry to concentrate on anything. The smell of the frying meat made his mouth water.
"Hey there, fellas. What do you have there? I'll take a pound," he called over the commotion. The old men beamed through the smoke.
"This here is a real discount! Venusian specialty."
Jet nodded and handed over a wadded-up pile of bills. The smallest old man handed him a skewer of meat, dripping with grease.
"Thanks, old-timer," Jet said. He blew on the food to cool it down and took his first bite. "Hey, that's not bad! Wha' is it? Beef? Sea rat?" he asked through an enormous mouthful. The flavor was nicely spiced, he thought, but it was a little tough and sinewy.
The men shared a glance and began to cackle. "At these prices? Not in this universe, sonny! This is premium Venusian dog meat!"
Jet dropped the skewer with a splatter and clapped a hand to his mouth, retching.
Faye dragged an exhausted Ed through the marketplace, both of them sweating through their heavy wool sweatsuits under the blinding Venusian sun. They were reaching near-insanity levels of sleep deprivation, and Faye felt utterly lost. Spike was clearly in danger back on Europa, she still couldn't reach Jet, and now they had to rescue Ein, too. An undercurrent of barely suppressed terror rippled through Faye's every thought as she tried not to imagine what sort of terrible things had befallen Spike. Was he hurt? Was he dead? Had the Dragons caught up with him at last?
Faye's mind whirled as they trudged across the sun-baked cobblestones. They needed to get back to Europa as quickly as possible, but they were out of cash again. Besides, Faye knew that Ed would refuse to leave Venus until Ein was safely rescued. In the past, Faye would have happily left the kid on her own, but now her stomach twisted guiltily at the thought of it.
When the hell had she developed a conscience? She sighed in glum resignation as they turned down another street. The only thing left to do was to make a quick buck the only way she knew how.
"Come on, Ed, let's try this place," Faye urged, tugging at Ed's sweaty hand and pulling her into a darkened bar. Bearded men in linen robes sat clustered at tables, taking long drags on hookahs and blowing smoke rings up to the high ceiling. The bar was filled with wilted palm trees and the walls were decorated with colorful mosaics. A fountain burbled somewhere, the splashing of the water barely audible over the chatter. Scanning the room, Faye spotted a table of men playing blackjack and cheered inwardly. She gave herself a little slap on her cheeks to wake up, pulled off her heavy sweatshirt to reveal her stained tank top underneath, and marched over to the group of card players. Ed traipsed behind her, coughing as they walked through the clouds of fruity hookah smoke. Heads swiveled to stare at her as she wove between the tightly packed tables.
"Hello, gentlemen," Faye purred, lowering her eyelids and sticking out her chest. "Mind if I join you?"
The men paused the game and stared at her for a moment. Holding their cards, they huddled together to discuss something in a guttural language. Faye waited patiently, tugging her shirt down to reveal a little more skin and keeping a seductive smile pasted gamely on her face. She patted her back pockets surreptitiously to double-check for the Glock stuck in the waistband of her jeans. Even in this intense heat, the gun's metal was cold against the damp skin of her lower back.
"Very well. Please for yourself to join us," one of the men said, drawing out a chair and offering it to her. "You know of the rules of the blackjack, madam?"
"Oh, I know of the rules of the blackjack, all right," Faye replied. "Ed, go scope out the cash registers," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. Ed saluted and scampered away through the crowd.
They began to play, every man at the table watching her intently. Faye was careful not to win too much too fast. She wanted to get some information out of the locals before relieving them of every Woolong in their pockets.
"So, my friends, have you seen anything strange around here recently? Any animals?"
The man to her left looked at her curiously, stroking his curly beard. "Animals?"
Faye played her hand and leaned closer to him. "Any unusual dogs, for instance? I'm looking for a corgi."
The man nodded slowly, fiddling with his cards. "Dog? Hmm. Yes. Hotel Ishtar? By riverside? You know of?"
"Uh, of course," Faye lied. "What about it?"
"Friend is manager. Bad men came in yesterday, brought dog. Very odd dog, he tell me. Like large sausage," the man murmured thoughtfully, his eyes wandering down to her chest. "Why do you ask this question?" He took a long pull off of the hookah and offered it to her. Faye took it from him and drew the sweet smoke deep into her tired lungs, relishing the buzz.
"Um...a friend of mine is missing a pet. Thanks," she told him. "Oops! Looks like that hand goes to me!"
The heat and the smoke and the mingled languages made Faye feel like she was dreaming with her eyes open. Pretending to stretch, she quickly glanced around the room and spotted Ed sneaking behind the bar, clutching an open jar of maraschino cherries and popping them into her mouth by the handful, red syrup dripping ghoulishly down her face. Oh well. She was winning by a huge margin at this point; might as well let the kid binge on chemical cherry juice.
As they played, the memories of another blackjack game filled her mind.
She remembered the way Spike looked at her when they met. His sly smile across the table in that casino so long ago. The way her breath caught in her throat when she looked up and saw her target for the night. It was supposed to have been a simple job, and to Poker Alice, it would have been: get in, get out, make money, shoot the place up, consider it done and dusted. No hard feelings and no regrets.
But that was the night that Faye remembered how to be human. How it felt to look into those mismatched eyes and feel a frozen part of her heart begin to melt. The rush of heat that had filled her when she had imagined, wildly and unbidden, how it would feel to slide underneath that lanky cowboy's warm body, to pull him against her in the dark and lose herself.
She wanted that again. More than anything.
One of the card players sneezed loudly, startling Faye and bringing her back to reality. They finished the game, and she gleefully stuffed her winnings into her pockets. She hadn't even cheated...much. Not as much as she usually did, anyways. The men watched her with bemused respect as she scooped up the last Woolong and stood up from the table.
"Well, thanks guys!" she called behind her. She felt delirious with exhaustion, and the hookah made her surroundings seem distant and blurred. Ed sidled up to her, her mouth stained pink with cherry juice, and Faye took her firmly by the wrist and steered her outside. She squinted into the ferocious afternoon sunlight, her eyes taking a while to adjust after the dimly lit bar. Here and there, fluffy seed pods drifted through the air like weightless snow.
"What are we doing, Faye-Faye? Can we take a nap?" Ed asked feebly.
"In a minute, Ed. But first, we're going shopping. I can't wear these clothes for one more second."
"Faaaaaaye-Faaaaaaye..." Ed moaned. "I don't want to shop. I want to sleep!"
"Tough it out, Ed. Us girls have to look our best, you know," Faye replied distractedly, trying to block out panicked visions of Spike bleeding in the snow. "We're going to get some better clothes and go to this Hotel Ishtar. That's where that guy said they saw a dog like Ein. Okay?"
Ed nodded miserably, her red hair flopping against her ears. Faye shaded her eyes against the sun with her forearm and gazed around the busy marketplace. She spotted a mannequin draped with colorful scarves outside of a small tent a few blocks away. Encouraged, she strode purposefully towards it, Ed shuffling behind her. As they walked, vendors cried out left and right, plying them both with samples and treats. They both accepted them greedily, shoving pieces of pita bread and spoonfuls of unidentifiable sauces and deliciously sour berries into their hungry mouths.
They reached the tent with the mannequins, wiping their garlicky fingers on their sweatshirts. Faye made Ed wait outside while she bought them both floaty sand-colored dresses and gauzy scarves that would serve both as disguises and sun protection.
"Mind if we change in the back? And could you point me towards the Hotel Ishtar?" Faye asked the saleswoman as she handed over a wad of Woolongs. The woman glanced up at her through the slit in her dark veil as she counted the crumpled bills.
"Hotel Ishtar? You are the second foreigner today wanting directions to that place."
"Is that so," Faye said, poking her head out of the tent to usher Ed back inside. "Whereabouts is it?"
Faye and Ed ripped off their dirty sweatsuits, threw them into a nearby trashcan, and pulled the dresses over their heads. The fabric felt gloriously cool and breezy. The saleswoman blushed behind her veil and gazed pointedly at the ceiling.
"Why, Ed, you look downright female in that," Faye remarked. "You oughta try it more often."
Ed scowled and stuck out her tongue. The saleswoman rummaged through a basket and pulled out a battered map, tracing a route with one long purple-painted fingernail.
"See here. Hotel Ishtar. Follow river past market, three blocks west, look for fountain."
Faye thanked the woman and grabbed Ed by the collar. Ed, practically asleep, tripped over her own feet and mumbled nonsense as Faye pulled her back onto the dusty street.
It was late in the afternoon. The tall man lit a cigarette and strode back and forth, his boots creaking against the tiled floor.
"I just don't understand what it is that you want to know," Spike said hoarsely. "And why did you bring my dog?"
He could hear a fountain burbling somewhere outside. He was desperately thirsty, but he would die before he asked his captors for anything.
The tall man took a drag and glared at him, exhaling the smoke through his nose.
"Don't play dumb, Spiegel. You and the dog are both worth millions. You had something Mao wanted. You think I'm the only one who saw it? What were you hiding? What did you have that the rest of us didn't?"
Spike chuckled darkly. In the corner, the bodyguard cleared his throat and touched the barrel of his pistol, but the tall man ceased his incessant pacing and stared at him.
"You think I had some kind of plan? Some kind of secret weapon?" Spike asked. He paused to cough, ignoring the stabs of pain in his stomach. "What do I get in return for telling you?"
The tall man emitted a violent bark of laughter, his eyes bulging. "What do you get? Why, I let you live, of course. I let you return to the Dragons under my command!"
Spike snorted. "Oh, so that's the fantasy you're cooking up. You tie me up, beg me for tips, and take over the dying syndicate? That's what this is all about?"
The tall man leapt onto the bed and wrapped his hands around Spike's throat. Gasping and choking, Spike threw blind punches everywhere he could land before the bodyguard swiftly crossed the room and yanked the tall man away.
"Boss! Boss! You told me we're gonna keep things under control! Shit, man, he was just about to talk! You gotta cool down!"
Spike massaged his windpipe, eyes watering and breath returning to normal. The tall man leaned against the wall, panting and groaning.
"He doesn't take me seriously! Fucking imbecile! I'll show him! Who's the one in charge here? I'm not messing around! Who's the one who killed Mateo? Don't underestimate me!" he screeched at the bodyguard, grasping his pistol so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"Well, that clears that up," Spike rasped.
The tall man inhaled through his nose as the color drained from his face. He sank against the wall and closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them once more he was spookily calm.
"So. Spiegel. You were saying."
The curtains glowed orange as the setting sun illuminated the windows. Spike took a shaky breath.
"I never chose this life, you know. I didn't want this."
"But how did you rise so high, so fast?" the tall man asked bitterly, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor.
"I didn't. I was just a stupid kid when I joined. I did my time like the rest of you," Spike answered. "And I was friends with Vicious. Vicious was the one with ambition. You knew him, didn't you?"
The tall man nodded, staring at a spot on the wall. The bodyguard coughed. Absurdly, Spike almost smiled to himself, thinking of Vicious at fifteen, full of spirit. His friend. How that word had soured for him.
"And...Mao liked us. There's no secret. No bribery. He treated us like his sons. Even when Vicious began to plot behind his back..."
Spike wasn't sure why he was saying any of this. The tall man stayed rooted in place, and Spike took it as a good sign. Better keep talking, he figured.
"But why did you leave?" the tall man asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You had everything going...everyone respected you...we all wanted the assignments you were given, the praise, the respect...why leave, after all that?"
Spike cringed at the reverential tone in the tall man's voice. He had been like that once, full of admiration for the syndicate higher-ups. It all seemed so pointless to him now. All of that musty formality, the ancient rituals, the needless bloodshed.
"Well...in the end, I left because of a woman."
The tall man scoffed. "You would dare betray the Van and the syndicate over a mere woman? That was the reason for all of that? An ordinary woman?"
Spike smiled.
He saw Julia before him in a vivid burst of memory, her eyes shining the way they did when he kissed her for the first time under the streetlight. He could almost smell her citrusy perfume.
"She was no ordinary woman."
Jet walked into the lobby of the Hotel Ishtar at sundown. He whistled appreciatively as he passed a gleaming marble fountain in the courtyard. Graceful palm trees stretched up to the arched ceilings, and mysterious women hidden behind long veils glided by on the arms of swarthy men in linen suits.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled napkin covered in scrawled directions to the hotel. After recovering from the mouthful of dog-kebab earlier, he'd asked around the marketplace until he heard a rumor from a talkative vegetable salesman about a pair of men with a fat little dog spotted at a hotel.
Jet didn't want to get his hopes up, but he was feeling lucky. Maybe he could even relax and enjoy a cigar on the veranda later with all the money he would claim from this bounty. 14 million Woolongs would cover all of the Bebop's repairs and then some.
After ordering and downing a glass of strong rum, Jet turned up his collar and walked slowly through the hallways. His heavy footsteps echoed against the tile floor. He wasn't completely sure what he was looking for until he heard a distant yelp.
He froze and cupped his mechanical hand to his ear. After a few moments, another burbling yelp came from above him somewhere. Jet began to run towards the elevator.
Every time Faye closed her eyes for longer than a second, she started to drift off. She shook herself awake as she stood next to Ed on the hotel balcony, overlooking the courtyard and the marble fountain. Ed swayed like a flower in the evening breeze. The stars burned in the purple sky. Faye leaned against the railing and let the strength leave her limbs for a moment.
"Faye-Faye..." Ed mumbled.
"Ed, we can't go to bed yet, okay?" Faye muttered. "We have to keep looking for - "
"Faye-Faye, look over there!"
Faye groaned and continued to stare out over the courtyard, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"God damn it, Ed. Don't bug me right now, okay?" Her eyes hovered at half-mast again for a second before closing again. Ed tugged at her sleeve and pointed towards the hallway behind the balcony.
"Faye-Faye! What is Jet-person doing here?"
Faye's eyes snapped open as she jolted awake. She whipped around and stared as a very familiar backside disappeared into a doorway.
"Oh, shit," she hissed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Ed tried! You were sleeping! Ed was peeping!"
"Well, never mind!" Faye cried, breaking into a flat-footed sprint. "Follow me!"
Spike knew by now that they were on Venus. He could smell the sulphur coming through the air conditioning vents. Hours had passed since the last outburst, and night had fallen. The only light came from the occasional flick of a lighter as one of his captors lit a cigarette.
The tall man slouched against the wall, and Spike couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. The bodyguard stood sentry at the door, but his eyes were bloodshot and his chin sported a dark shadow of stubble. Spike had been in that position before, waiting for a perp to talk for hours, days, weeks. Sometimes they never did. Sometimes you had to torture them first. Spike didn't like to think about those times.
Ein sat next to him, shaking the bed with his nervous panting. The ropes cut into Spike's swollen legs. His mouth was cracked from dehydration, and the wound in his stomach felt hot and inflamed and radiated pain from his ribcage to his legs.
Spike didn't give up easily. He wasn't a quitter. He had looked death in the eyes before. But he knew when he was in trouble. The tall man didn't know what he wanted from Spike, but he refused to let him leave without a showdown. And Spike was too weak to fight.
He had never wanted to die. Not really. Even after all of his drama and bluster back on the Bebop, he had always clutched onto his life when it really mattered, fiercely and resolutely. But maybe this was it. The one he wouldn't come back from.
Maybe he could be with Julia again...
Spike closed his eyes in despair.
Lunkhead, whispered a voice somewhere in his mind. He frowned.
Footsteps echoed somewhere outside, and Ein perked up his furry ears and let out a bleating yip.
"Shut up, you stupid mutt," the tall man growled. Ein cocked his head to listen and yelped again. The footsteps came closer and the tall man got to his feet stiffly, saying something under his breath to the bodyguard. Ein began to bark excitedly, hopping up and down on his short legs next to Spike. Just as the bodyguard drew his gun, the door flew open with a bang. The bodyguard fired off a wild shot that hit the floor with a metallic clang. The tall man threw himself against the bed, shielding Spike from view, as the intruder tumbled into the hotel room.
"Now hand over my dog, you assholes!" Jet shouted, pointing his gun at the bodyguard.
Right behind him, the door banged open again. Faye and Ed sprinted into the room and crashed into Jet's large back, knocking him off balance. Jet's finger smashed against the trigger of the gun and a shot ricocheted off of the ceiling, hitting the tall man in the back. Spike cried out in pain as the tall man's weight collapsed against him. The man's blood trickled onto Spike's arms, and he winced in disgust. Faye screamed and pushed Ed out of the way, and then everyone began to yell at once.
"What are YOU doing here?" Jet hollered as Faye hovered over Ed's small form.
"Jet-person!" screeched Ed from behind Faye's layers of scarves.
"Hand over the dog," Faye shrieked at the tall man, keeping one arm encircling Ed and pulling out her Glock with the other. "Let's make this nice and easy!"
"Um," Spike gasped from underneath the tall man's unconscious body, feeling as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest, "not to interrupt anything, but..."
Jet, Ed, Faye, and the bodyguard all whirled around to face him. Everyone froze.