“You’re asking far more than that, Calavera,” Alexi insisted. “You’re asking me to put aside everything I’ve learned from Marx’s painstaking, scientific work and embrace vague ideals. I don’t know if I can do that. Not even for Salvador Limones.”
“But am I really asking you to give up anything? Remember, I’m all for you agitating among the dock workers. It needs to be done and you’re the one to do it.” Salvador shifted a little. Something like the ghost of a frown flickered over his face. “I think it’s more a matter of asking you to expand your horizons. I’ll admit the LSA is kind of a vague cause—no offense, Sal—but think about it: who has ever tried to form a dialectic for the Land of the Dead? I can tell you for a fact that Marx himself hopped into a coach and rode out of here as quick as he could.” When your first manager is someone like Yehuda, you hear a lot from other agents about the famous dead.
“Is that a fact?” Alexi asked, sounding interested instead of argumentative. “Well, I guess you’re making a little sense.” He paused in thought. “Maybe Marx isn’t a completely perfect fit for the Land of the Dead. Maybe that’s why we’re not having a lot of success with the dock workers. Marx didn’t concern himself with demons any more than he did the dead. Maybe I can adapt the dialectic for this world.”
“Sure,” I said. “So, are you on board?”
“Yes,” Alexi said at last. “There are many forms of oppression in the world. If I do not fight them all, then I am no revolutionary.” He gave me a sideways look. “And to think I gained this insight from you.”
I shrugged. “That’ll teach you to judge by appearances, I guess.”
“So, what now?” Gunnar asked.
“Well,” I said, “perhaps the most important thing I need you guys to do is to keep on doing what you’re already doing. I don’t want anyone outside the organization to see any difference in how you act or what you’re priorities seem to be.”
“And keep riding you in public, I suppose,” Alexi said.
“Should be easy,” I said, “especially for Slisko.”
“Possibly too easy,” Salvador remarked. “Going by first impressions, that one has difficulty controlling his mouth.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Alexi said to Salvador. “Where the revolution is concerned, no daylight shows between his jaws.”
“Provided he can be convinced to join up,” Gunnar said. “He wouldn’t even get up from the table.”
Alexi waived his hand at Gunnar again. “His favorite chick’s reciting tonight.”
“The one who can’t hold her liquor?” Gunnar asked.
“OK,” I said, cutting off that subject, “Slisko’s another draftee. As for what we do next, getting ourselves organized is the main thing. Then we deal with things as they happen. The most important thing is to keep our ear holes to the ground.” I addressed myself to Gunnar, “Maybe you were on to something when you told me about rumors about the DOD being unhappy with a rogue agent. Maybe not. Point is, we’ve all got to pay attention to things like that in case there ever is something to them. You’ve got contacts among the workers. I’m making contacts among the movers and shakers. There’s bound to be something useful in all that chatter if we just pay attention. Another thing—and this is potentially dangerous—when the club starts turning a profit, we’ve got to get the money to El Marrow. That’s where the main action is, and, sad to say, you can’t fight a revolution without cash, and lots of it.”
“Why not just send your demon friend, Glottis?” Alexi asked, probably not relishing the idea of being a mere courier.
I shook my head. “That’s out.”
“You send him out on plenty of errands,” he protested. “Why not this?”
“Simple. I send him out on plenty of errands. You know it and everyone else in town knows it.” Alexi could only nod. “Besides which, this particular errand needs to be done quietly. Glottis and the Bone Wagon aren’t quiet, and they’re too well known to… to someone who has good reason to pay close attention when the Bone Wagon is in town.”
“Makes sense,” Gunnar said. “Besides, it’s not as if Alexi, me and Slisko are always in the same place at the same time. Harder for the Man to tell when one of us isn’t around than a giant orange demon who lays an inch of rubber just parallel parking.”
“I guess so,” Alexi sort of agreed.
“One last thing,” I said, “look out for the names Mercedes Colomar and Hector LeMans.”
“Colomar’s that chick you’ve been looking for ever since you blew into town, isn’t it?” Alexi asked. “What does she have to do with the revolution?”
“She’s the most tangible link we have to the gang we’re fighting, and the only victim we know by name. Finding her would go a long way to blowing their cover. And Hector LeMans is behind it all. We don’t know any more about him than that, do we Sal?” I asked him in case there was something he hadn’t told me yet.
“Regrettably, no,” Salvador answered, “so any rumor or gossip about Hector LeMans could potentially be extremely valuable. And,” he added, “Manuel is quite correct about the importance of Mercedes Colomar.”
No one spoke for a while. “Well,” I finally said, “I guess that’s it for now. I think you two should break the news to Slisko.”
“I’ll hold him down,” Gunnar said.
Salvador took a step away from the door. “Gentleman.” He solemnly shook Alexi’s hand, then Gunnar’s. “You have joined a noble cause. With unwavering diligence, we cannot but prevail in our just struggle. ¡Viva la Revolución!”
Alexi and Gunnar echoed Salvador and left. Salvador gave off a soft sigh I wasn’t sure I’d really heard and I leaned back heavily in my chair. I rubbed my face with both hands. “I wasn’t so sure we’d pull that off, Sal,” I said. I lit a cigarette to settle my nerves.
“Nor I, my friend,” Salvador admitted. He paced a few steps in the cramped shack. “Were it not for Gunnar’s assistance…” he trailed off. “Nor am I sure of Alexi’s worth.”
That surprised me. If he did have reservations about any of the three, I would have thought it would have been Slisko.
“Why Alexi?” I asked.
“You appealed to his vanity,” he answered grimly. “Consider his statement that he could adapt the Marxist dialectic to the Land of the Dead. He, Alexi,” he thumped his rib cage, “is the man to do it.”
I could see Salvador’s point. “I guess he would like to be this world’s Lenin,” I admitted. Although, myself, I would have worried more about the Stalin who might be waiting in the wings.
“Yes, and that dream could pose a problem if it becomes too real for him. He will have to be watched. In the meantime, I have your new cell’s first assignment. Now that we are fully operational here in Rubacava, we must work toward Puerto Zapato. Your men must pick yet another recruit, one who can become our agent in that distant port.”
“That’s pretty far from the action, Sal. What’s Zapato got to do with the ticket scam?”
Salvador stopped pacing and looked at me, projecting an unhappy expression. “Although our enemies are based in El Marrow, I am becoming convinced that their operations extend far beyond the city limits. Consider that the sole victim of the LeMans gang that we can identify is Mercedes Colomar. All the rest—and there must be hundreds—remain anonymous. What becomes of them? Where do they go?”