"I asked Her to be present," the Duke said. "You've been cheating me, Hopps."
"Never!"
"Past couple months I've been noticing our beer running dry a lot. We opened up some kegs, found plastic balls inside. Not many, but enough to skim off ten percent or so. I had my men spill a keg after we made our purchase today: balls again."
Hoppy, who was apparently the factory manager, thought for a moment. "Maybe someone at the brewery is up to something. I had no knowledge of this, Duke. I'll make it up to you."
"I'm withholding payment. You've got ten percent less bodies coming north this shipment, and another ten percent less for the previous two." The Duke turned to Kurian. "With winter coming on, that's going to be fifty, sixty less auras for the Milwaukee Families, my Lord."
The man in the sleeveless shirt spoke. "Lord Yuse-Uth says that the brewery will make it up next year. Her need is for the full allotment of auras."
"I don't like to say no to a Lord," the Duke said, "but my own Lords may have some say in the matter. Does She want a faction-war? That'd cost Her more. I'll split the difference, twenty-five fewer auras and you can make it up to me next year."
The mirrored face turned to look at the Duke. "Agreed. The ring is revoked." Valentine was not sure if the grating voice came from the mask or between his ears.
The Reaper grabbed Hoppy's arm and reached for the ring on the third finger of his right hand. It took the ring, pulling off the finger as well with a sickening snap of tearing cartilage. Hoppy screamed. His bodyguard stood frozen, staring in awe at the Reaper.
"He is no longer under Lord Yuse-Uth's protection," the Kurian's speaker said, watching Hoppy try to squeeze off the blood flowing from the pulpy mass where the digit had been. "Allenby, you are now the brewery manager. Lord Yuse-Uth trusts your deliveries will be complete. Perhaps in time you will wear this very ring."
The woman gulped, stepping away from her former supervisor. "Thank You, my Lord," she quavered. "Andersen, your contract with Mr. Hoppy is terminated. We will talk tomorrow about your future with the brewery. Think about it."
"Y-yes ma'am," Andersen said, his hands trembling.
"Dammit, I had nothing to do with shorting the shipments," Hoppy swore.
"Lord Yuse-Uth thanks you for bringing this matter to Her attention," the speaker said, turning to the Duke. "She looks forward to continued good relations and trade with Her Brethren in Chicago."
"I appreciate Her Lordship's time," the Duke said.
The Kurian, her speaker, and the Reapers departed, and Valentine found himself able to breathe again.
"Responsibility demands performance, Hoppy," the Duke said. "Personally, I think you were cheating me." The Duke looked at the man with the butterfly knife. "Make him shorter. Permanently."
Valentine watched, his face as passive as the Kurian's mask, as the man with the knife knocked Hoppy to the floor. He savagely hamstrung the screaming man, cutting the tendons at the back of his victim's knees.
"Guess they'll call you Crawly now," the Duke said. "Ms. Allenby, take that trash out with you as you leave. Dump him with the other garbage on the dock. I'll talk to you in the morning and see what kind of understanding we can come to."
None of the Duke's companions looked particularly upset as the brewery people dragged the bleeding, weeping wretch outside. The Duke's craggy face split into a smile.
"Party time. Go get a bottle of something decent, Palmers. And a couple cases of Miller, in sealed bottles. I'm going to get rolling on some of this white gold. Join me, Denise?"
She smiled and reached again into her purse for a mirror. "Tested high blue. Dukey? You bet your ring I am."
Twenty-odd beers, three bottles, and multiple toots later, the Quislings and Valentine were closing down the Bunker. Still behind the wire, Adolph counted out most of the contents of the Duke's purse. One bartender remained. A passed-out merchant marine was being dragged outside, and the waitress sat in the bodyguard's lap. Her bikini top rested on the closed eyes of Butterfly Knife, who had downed almost a whole bottle of the unlabeled house busthead. Behind the toilet curtain, Denise's shapely ankles with the blue dress around them twitched in time to the music. Valentine, who had drunk only a little booze while appearing to drink a lot, sat on the sawdust floor with his back to the jukebox, leaning up against the Duke.
Valentine had discovered a passion in the Duke for bad jokes and dirty songs. The ringholder had announced earlier in the evening, "This bar reminds me of what happens when you cross a German with an Irishman: you get someone too drunk to follow orders." After that the Wolf had dredged his brain for every mossy old chestnut he could remember from his early teens to barracks life. Finally, in keeping with his nautical disguise, he taught the Duke of Rush all the lines he could remember of 'The Good Ship Venus."
"The cabin boy, the cabin boy, the dirty little nipper I Put ground glass inside his ass and circumcised the skipper," the Duke sang with him, giggling at the end of each verse.
Eva Stepanicz rested in the arms of the other Quisling, there more to keep an eye on Valentine per the captain's orders than to enjoy herself. A small tower of empties stood next to her, begun when she returned to the bar to find out what had transpired during the Kurian visit. She possessed an almost magical power over liquor, making her the choice for this particular assignment. She pushed the man's face away from her, directing his beer-fumed breath toward the floor.
The bartender returned from dumping the merchant marine, escorting First Mate Silvertongue.
"Okay, Tiny, on your feet. Day's breaking, and the captain wants you and Stepanicz back."
Stepanicz climbed to her feet with a relieved sigh.
Valentine looked up at the first mate from beneath his red Bunker T-shirt, worn pharaoh-style on his head. "C'mon, Silver. No reason she can't wait another hour or two. Shove off," he slurred, more from fatigue than alcohol.