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Jerry Mars arrived at the Fig's at eight. He had an hour. |
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Through the back door he brought in Matty, who was draped in a black hooded robe and with leg irons, handcuffs and a muzzle. |
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Jerry led him to a back stall and bound him to a steel support beam. The tranquilizer had nearly worn off and the boy thrashed violently. |
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Jerry had had no intention of fighting him. At least not until he saw the news last night about Julius Benton Wick and his wife killed in a plane crash. Now it made no difference, because there was nobody to bargain with. He had eliminated two-thirds of the BiOmega connection, and a leaky fuel line took care of the rest. There were no next of kin, and nobody to press for hush money. If the kid was going to make him some fast cash, Jerry decided he would have to do it soon, before the boy dropped dead from his own adrenalin. |
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Given the short notice, the Fig outdid himself. Since Jerry's call he had contacted each of the regulars with the news: that the annual Memorial Day conference would be an event to mark the calendar from. One beyond their wildest dreams. But they would need strong stomachs. He did not explain, only said that the main event would be a blind matchmeaning that they would not know the star contestant until event time. But he promised a match to beat all matches; and if they wanted in, they would have to bring their best dogs and minimum antes of twenty-five grand. |
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Understandably, there were protests about all the mystery and the antes; and half the takers turned down the invitation. But twenty-seven men did arrive that Sunday night, cash in hand, more |
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