The place was quiet when I arrived: a couple old-timers, nursing drinks at the end of the bar. A working girl, dividing her time between sipping her gin and tonic and nibbling on the ear of her john, whose suit — a little loose on his frame, but well-made, and only slightly out of style — suggested banker, and whose glassy eyes read well past drunk. And in a booth in the back, a large, red-faced man in a dusty brown suit and a fedora to match sat flirting with the barmaid, a buxom brunette in a skirt so high and a neckline so low they damn near met in the middle. A shock of red tie hung around the man's neck, and the woman fingered it playfully as she laughed at whatever it was he'd just said. But then he spotted me standing in the doorway, blinking in the sudden gloom of the bar after the brilliant glare of the afternoon sun, and he waved me over, his massive chins bobbing up and down. I shuffled toward him, clenching my jaw against the pain in my knee and willing the limp out of my gait.
"Sam?" he asked, once I reached his booth. "Sam Thornton?"
"That's me."
"Good to meet you," he said. "Name's Dumas. Walter Dumas."
He extended a hand. I shook it. Up close, I saw his bloodshot eyes, the gin blossoms that spread across his massive cheeks. It was pretty clear the guy was a few drinks to the good. He told me to have a seat, asked what I was having. I slid into the booth and said I wasn't thirsty. Dumas just shook his head and laughed.
"Nonsense! Dinah, bring the boy a shot o' whiskey and a beer, and what the hell, the same for me as well!"
"You got it, sugar," she said. She tapped Dumas playfully on the nose, leaning in as she did so he could better ogle the vast expanse of cleavage that pressed upward from her blouse in brazen defiance of gravity and decency both. Up close, her perfume was dizzying, and the apples of her cheeks were pricked with red, from rouge or drink I didn't know. She flashed me a wink as she turned to fetch our drinks, and then retreated to the bar, Dumas eyeing her all the while.
"Fine piece a tail on that one," he said. "Got a husband, of course, but then that's no concern o' mine."
I said nothing. Dumas just smiled.
"So, Japs or Krauts?" he said.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"The limp — Japs or Krauts?"
"Actually, neither. I've never served, though not for lack of trying. I enlisted back in '42, but they bounced me on account of my wife's condition."
"Yeah, Johnnie mentioned she's a lunger." At that last, I flinched and cast my eyes around the bar to see if anyone had heard. Once tuberculosis moved to the lungs, it was both deadly and highly infectious — if word got out about Elizabeth, they'd surely lock her away in some horrid sanitarium where she'd slowly waste away to nothing. I refused to let that happen. Lucky for me, not a soul in the place was paying us any mind.
Dumas said, "You seem healthy enough, though."
"Docs say I'm doing fine." Of course, that was only half of what the doctors said. The whole of it was I'm doing fine for now. That living with Elizabeth, it was just a matter of time. The first few times, it didn't bother me — I mean, docs'll tell you all kinds of shit about eating your vegetables and laying off the drink, and that doesn't mean you listen to the letter. But you hear it enough, and eventually, it gets to you. I'd be lying if I said I didn't break out in a cold sweat every time I stifled a cough, wondering — is this the time my hand comes back flecked with blood? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified. But I needed this job, and saying all that wasn't gonna help me none. Besides, the way Dumas was looking at me, I got the sense he already knew it.
Our drinks arrived, and Dumas clanked his shot glass against mine, sloshing whiskey across the table, before tossing it back and chasing it with a swig of beer. I followed suit. My stomach roiled when the whiskey hit. Dumas held up his shot glass, signaled for two more.
"So if it wasn't in the war, where'd you get the gimpy leg?"
"Bad bit of business back in San Francisco. Back then, I worked the night shift at a foundry — at least, until we struck, that is. The owner of the place didn't take kindly to the idea, hired some boys to break it up. Some of us got a little more broke up than others."
"Ah, so you're a union man," Dumas declared, beaming. "No wonder Johnnie sent you my way!"
"I don't follow," I said.
"Don't tell me Johnnie didn't tell you! You're among friends, brother! I run the International Longshoremen's Union, Local 1566. Christ, that Johnnie's quite a card, setting up a meeting like this and not telling you what it's all about — you musta thought we were the Cosa Nostra or some shit!"
The barmaid brought our next round, her ruby lips parting in a smile as she leaned in close to set down my whiskey, the warmth of her breasts pressing against my arm. My face was flushed with embarrassment, though I wasn't sure why, and my head was fuzzy from the whiskey, from the barmaid's scent, from this weird-ass meeting. I tossed back the shot, and set fire to a cigarette. Neither helped to quell my unease.
"So that's what this is all about?" I asked. "A union job?"
His massive head bobbed up and down from behind his bottle of beer. "The union's always on the lookout for guys we can trust — guys who ain't afraid of a little hard work. Johnnie says you're good people, and his eccentricities aside, he ain't never steered me wrong yet. So whaddya say — you in?"
"I don't even know what the job is yet."
Dumas shrugged. "A little of this, a little of that. Errands, and the like. Nothin' you can't handle, I'm sure."
Another shot appeared in front of me. I downed it without a second thought.
"Johnnie said you knew a guy could help my wife."
"That's right. I know a group o' docs at Bellevue say they're running some kind of trial. A miracle drug, to hear them tell it. They think that it's a cure."
"And they're willing to treat Elizabeth?"
Dumas nodded. "Ever since we got into this goddamn war, most of the medical equipment and supplies in this country have been diverted to the front, which means that stateside they're in short supply. Now, I'm all for supporting our boys overseas, but the way I figure it, we gotta keep the home fires burning too. Now, nothing comes into or out of the harbor that my guys don't have a hand in — we just make sure some of it stays here, and finds its way into some suitably appreciative hands. Workin' the docks ain't easy — we see our share of cuts and scrapes and broken bones. But you keep the sawbones happy, and they're more than willing to return the favor. We'll get that little missus of yours into that trial just as easy as you please, and soon she'll be right as rain."
"You can seriously do that?"
"You have my word."
"Then just tell me what I have to do."
"Nothin' yet, 'cept to go home and tell your wife the good news. The work you'll be doin', it ain't steady, but it pays well when it pays, so don't you worry about that. We'll call you when we need you."
"I look forward to hearing from you."
"Excellent. Now if you'll excuse me," Dumas said, nodding toward the bar, "I've got me a barmaid to attend to."
Eleven hours.
Eleven hours they'd left me here, sitting alone in this holding cell without so much as a word. In fact, these past two hours I hadn't even warranted a glance from the officer standing watch. Not that I was surprised — it had been written all over their faces as they led me back here: I was a crooked cop. A traitor. I guess they figured they could leave me to stew awhile, see if maybe it loosened my tongue a bit.
Well, if they wanted me to stew, they sure as hell got what they wanted.
I sat there in that dank fucking cell, my meeting with Merihem playing over and over in my mind. Any demon coulda taken this chick out for a spin, he'd said, but she'd be lit up like a Christmas tree for anyone who knew to look. No way she gets marked for collection. No, a con of that magnitude would take some serious clout — not to mention one hell of a death wish. You couldn't begin to understand the world of shit that would rain down upon us all if one of our kind was caught damning an innocent soul to rot in hell for an eternity. So assuming I was right, why set up the girl? And who the hell had that kind of power?