A Fistful Of Tin Futures
Colonel Bob gave me a pat. He wasn’t a real great patter – like Autumn or Tulip, for example, who worked in the More part of Livia Moon’s place in Pottsdale, Livia’s Friendly Coffee and More – that’s all in To Fetch A Thief, or was it the Chatterley Case? – but even if he wasn’t the best patter I really liked Colonel Bob, a big guy with a big red face and short gray hair cut flat on top. He was wearing cammies and desert boots, and I could smell desert smells on those boots, but not our desert, which was strange and very interesting to me. Bernie and Colonel Bob were talking, about what I wasn’t sure.
“What kind of information?” Colonel Bob was saying.
“Astrid’s whereabouts,” said Bernie. “It’s not spelled out, but I won’t make a deal for anything else.”
“How much money?” said Colonel Bob.
“Five grand, but I’ll try to talk him down,” Bernie said. “I hate paying for information.”
“Just do it,” Colonel Bob said.
I sniffed his boots.
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