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FRANKO WAS TIED TO a chair in an empty room in one of the storehouses, guarded by Nolan and some union men from the foundry.
Carlos was first through the door followed by Andy, a couple of casino doormen then Chance and Tony.
“What you doing here?” Franko’s voice was defiant.
“Wondering if you’re going to be useful for me,” Carlos said. “I got a message I want to send to your compatriots back in Alverton.”
“And what message is that?” Franko asked.
“The message is simple. Just four sweet little words. Don’t, fuck, with, and me.”
“And you think anyone over there’s going to listen?”
“Oh, they’ll listen alright. You see, we got what’s left of your arseholes outside. You’re going to convince them to spread the good word about Alverton.”
“I doubt that.”
Carlos nodded and looked at the men beside the door. One of them shook their head.
“We’ll wait,” Carlos said.
Franko looked at Tony. “You’re the one who took Gordon down.”
Tony nodded.
“How’d you do it?”
Tony looked at Carlos.
Carlos nodded. “Tell him.”
“Even though your friend had a forbidden symbol on him, it made him overconfident. All I did was to make him feel comfortable. He was so sure he could beat me he didn’t bother to look at what would have told him he was going to lose.”
“He was a fool,” Franko said, “but I don’t think he was that stupid.”
“Luck does that,” Tony looked at Carlos. “You can become so comfortable with your luck, good or bad, you sometimes don’t see it change.” He looked at Chance. “You see, when you’re playing cards you’re never playing a card game. You’re playing the player. Isn’t that right?”
Chance nodded.
“You need your hat,” Carlos said. “I like that hat on you.”
“So do I,” Chance said weakly.
“Carlos,” one of the men at the door called.
Carlos turned and nodded.
One of the men opened the door.
“Well, this is cosy,” Thomas said as he walked into the room. “Your boss is dead isn’t he Curtis?”
Franko nodded.
“So there’s no reason you should still be here, causing further grief.”
“I didn’t know this had anything to do with you,” Franko said.
“And it shouldn’t,” Thomas said. “But I think that’s bullshit. You see, you should have packed up your things and gone home the moment your piece of shit boss caught Tony’s bullet. I can respect loyalty, but to remain once the man is dead is plain stupidity, unless you wanted something you shouldn’t have.”
“I can’t have a boss killed by a punk and allow that punk to continue breathing.”
“From what I hear you already tried to stop this punk breathing,” Thomas looked at Tony. “I believe he still has the hole? Or is it healed already?”
“It’s healing,” Tony said.
“You see, Curtis, this was one mistake. You tried to kill a friend of mine. I know we haven’t talked much these five years, but I’ll be rectifying that. I can forgive that mistake because I figure you just didn’t know.”
Thomas waited. Franko said nothing.
“Then there was your second mistake, although I won’t hold this one against you. The fucker responsible for this one bought a bullet in the head. You know what that was? Your bastards threw sticks of dynamite into my fucking casino.”
“Your casino!” Franko snapped.
“My casino, but you knew that,” Thomas said coldly. “You see, your Folk might run the government, and the docks, but we’re the ones who run everything else white man. The Folk are even too damn scared to send anybody here after dark because too many of them never return. Oh some do, in little pieces. And that’s your third mistake, and I apologise for this because this one is all my fault.”
“What’s that?” Franko asked.
“Now you know too much. You see, I don’t want it becoming common knowledge just yet that I still own the Casino Cosimo, so I can’t have you telling anyone.”
“I thought Carlos here said I had to deliver a message.”
“Oh you will.” Thomas’s voice was ice. “You’ll send that message loud and clear.” Thomas looked at Carlos. “You attached to that chair?”
Carlos shook his head. “Not as much as Curtis here.”
“Your friends out there haven’t seen me or my associates,” Thomas said casually. “They’ve got no guns and I’ve been told one of them’s already pissed himself. Thinking he’s about to die.”
One of the doormen wrapped a calico bag around Franko, threading it through his bound arms and around the chair.
“What’s that?” Franko asked.
“It’s a waist band, made special for occasions like this. It holds lead shot and some rocks, just to make you extra heavy.” Thomas nodded to the doormen in the room.
Two of them lifted Franko with the chair, one on each side.
“This won’t finish here,” Franko seethed. “You know that.”
“Oh, it does for you, white man,” Thomas said. “I’d hang your pink arse from a tree except there aren’t any here. Give my regards to your boss when you see him. Make sure he knows he’s been beaten by a darkie.”
Thomas smiled, revealing two lengthened canines.
“You fucking unnatural fucking bastard,” Franko seethed. “Do your friends here know what you are?”
“Get him the fuck out of here,” Thomas snapped.