"Have fun, kid. Pleasure doing business with you."
As soon as the cop had passed out the metal door to the yard, Valentine hardened his ears. Burt and the Twisted Cross man seemed to be going down some stairs.
"Got the old thirst, huh?" Burt asked.
"You know it," King said, his rubber-soled feet squeaking a little against the stone stairs.
"Your bro recovered from that shotgun blast yet?"
"Yeah, sure. He won't win any dance contests, but he gets around well enough. For a while there, I was limping even when I wasn't in the tank."
"How long were you hooked up this time?"
"Almost a week. Fucker fed three times. Made me want it so bad I almost bit the guy pulling me out. But the general was happy with what we did; gave the whole team two weeks off. We wiped out a whole nest of rebs in the Smokies."
Valentine heard keys rattling and the sound of a door being opened somewhere below.
"General shouldn't make you pull such long shifts. I heard some of your guys went nuts after..."
The clang of the door shutting echoed loudly enough for Valentine to hear with soft ears. The voices were gone.
He waited fifteen minutes before the basement door opened again, and Burt's ponderous step ascended the stairs, key ring jangling. Burt returned to the linoleum-floored room, and Valentine rose to meet him.
"My name's Pillow, sir. First visit to the Zoo."
"Burt Walker. Chief of One-Way Exhibits."
"One-Way?"
"Now and then we get troublemakers the management wants to make an example of. Don't matter how they die, as long as it's ugly. Whatcha lookin' for, Pillow? Something the girls out there can't handle?"
"You might say that. It's something I don't like talking about."
"Hey, kid, I heard it all, believe me," Burt said, in a rich, world-weary tone. "But I respect people's privacy. You just gotta let me know one thing... Will she still be alive when you're done? "Cause if you kill her, I gotta charge you big-time."
"She'll live, Mr. Walker. That's a promise."
"Okay, then, but remember what I said and don't get carried away. I gotta see the cash, though."
Valentine flashed his breast-pocket wad. "I want to see the girls first. I'm willing to pay, but I don't want anyone whose already used up. Someone kind of innocent and fresh," Valentine said.
"Hey, Pillow, you want innocent and fresh, you have to come to the special show tonight. When I saw her, I almost decided to come out of retirement. But I'll let Clubber and Valkyrie and my two best Grogs do her."
Walker took Valentine to the basement stairs.
"This'll be private, right?"
"Kid, there's curtains on the cells. Don't worry about noise; no one's going to disturb you."
They came up against the metal basement door. Walker thumbed through a ring of keys and opened it. They passed though to a spacious lower level.
It reminded Valentine of a stable, except for the dirty white tile everywhere. A series of cells with barred doors lined the walls. Valentine smelled blood, urine, and feces without even using his hard sense of smell. Another man in a khaki uniform sat at a desk, talking animatedly over a phone.
"Hey, Burt! There are problems up top. There's a fire in the Grog pens, and the stables. Can you believe it?"
"Oh, fine," Walker said, disgusted. "Stupid Grogs. "Cause they're cheap and eat anything, we gotta employ 'em. They're more trouble than they're worth. Find Clubber and go help out at the stables. I don't give a shit if the Grog pens burn right to the ground. They can spend the winter under Lakeshore Drive for all I care."
The man nodded and disappeared up the stairs to the first floor.