"Don't knock it," the Deveel shrugged. "They're big on the wrestling circuit. In fact, teams like this are their dimension's most popular export. Everyone knows them as the Terrible Tues. They're a lot more destructive than you'd guess from their size."
"This is a put-on, right?"
"If you really want to see something, you should catch their other export. It's a traveling dance troupe called the Tue Tours."
Massha dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Hot stuff, remember our deal about my lessons?"
"Later, Massha. The match is about to start."
Actually, it was about to finish. It was that short, if you'll pardon the expression.
The first member of the favored red trunk team simply strolled out and pinned his white-trunked rival. Though the pin looked a bit like someone trying to wrap a package with tangled string, the red-trunker made it seem awfully easy. All efforts of his opponent's partner to dislodge the victor were in vain, and the bout was over.
"Well, that's that," the Geek said, standing up. "A pleasure doing business with you, Skeeve. Look me up again if you tie on to a live one."
"Aren't you going to collect your bet?"
The Deveel shrugged.
"No rush. Besides, I think your playmates are a little preoccupied just now."
I looked where he was pointing and saw Shai-ster storming toward the dressing rooms with Guido and Nunzio close behind. None of them looked particularly happy, which was understandable, given the circumstances.
"Whoops. That's my cue. See you back at the Yellow Crescent, Massha." And with that, I launched myself in an interceptor course with the angry mobsters.
Chapter Nineteen:
"These blokes need to be taught to respect their superiors."
-GEN. CORNWALUS
I ALMOST missed them. Not that I was moving slow, mind you. It's just that they had a real head of steam on.
"Hi guys!" I called, just as Shai-ster was raising a fist to hammer on the dressing room door. "Are you going to congratulate the winners, too?"
Three sets of eyes bored into me as my "friends" spun around.
"Congratulate!" Guido snarled. "I'll give 'em congratulate."
"Wait a minute," Shai-ster interrupted. "What did you mean, 'too'?"
"Well, that's why I'm here. I just won a sizable bet on the last match."
"How sizable?"
"Well, sizable for me," I qualified. "I stand to collect fifty gold pieces."
"Fifty," Guido snorted. "You know how much we lost on that fiasco?"
"Lost?" I frowned. "Didn't you know the Reds were favored?"
"Of course we knew," Shai-ster snarled. "That's why we were set to make a killing when they lost."
"But what made you think they were going to ... Oh! Was that what you were talking about when you said you were going into gambling?"
"That's right. The red team was supposed to take a graceful dive in the third round. We paid them enough ... more than enough, actually."
He sounded so much like Grimble I couldn't resist taking a cheap shot.
"Judging from the outcome, it sounds to me that you paid them a little less than enough."
"It's not funny. Now, instead of recouping our losses, we've got another big loss to explain to the Big Boys." "Oh come on, Shai-ster," I smiled. "How much can it cost to fix a fight?"
"Not much," he admitted. "But when you figure in the investment money we just lost, it comes to...."
"Investment money?"
"He means the bet," Guido supplied.
"Oh. Well, I suppose that's the risk you take when you try to make a killing."
An evil smile flitted across Shai-ster's face.
"Oh, we're going to make a killing, all right," he said. "It's time the locals at this Bazaar learned what it means to cross the Mob."
With that, he nodded at Guido who opened the dressing room door.
All four wrestlers were sharing the same room, and they looked up expectantly as we filed in. That's right. I said we. I kind of tagged along at the end of the procession and no one seemed to object.
"Didn't you clowns forget something out there?" Shai-ster said for his greeting. "Like who was supposed to win?"
The various team members exchanged glances. Then the smallest of the red team shrugged.
"Big deal. So we changed our minds."
"Yeah," his teammate chimed in. "We decided it would be bad for our image to lose... especially to these stumblebums."
That brought the white team to its feet.
"Stumblebums?" one of them bellowed. "You caught us by surprise, that's all. We was told to take it easy until the third-round,"
"If you took it any easier, you'd be asleep. We were supposed to be wrestling, not dancing."
Shai-ster stepped between them.
"So you all admit you understood your original instructions?"
"Hey, get off our backs, okay? You'll get your stinking money back, so what's your beef, anyway?"
"Even if you gave us a full refund," Shai-ster said softly, "there's still a matter of the money we lost betting on you. I don't suppose any of you are independently wealthy?"
"Oh, sure," one of the reds laughed. "We're just doin' this for kicks."
"I thought not. Guido. Nunzio. See what you can do about squaring accounts with these gentlemen. And take your time. I want them to feel it, you know?"
"I dunno, Shai-ster," Guido scowled. "They're awfully small. I don't think we can make it last too long."
"Well, do your best. Skeeve? Would you join me outside? I don't think you're going to want to see this."
He was closer to being right than he knew. Even though I had been through some rough and tumble times during recent years, that didn't mean I enjoyed it-even to watch.
The door was barely shut behind us when a series of thuds and crashes erupted inside. It was painful just to listen to, but it didn't last long.
"I told them to take their time," Shai-ster said, scowling at the silence. "Oh well, I guess ..." The door opened, revealing one of the white team. "If you've got any more lessons out there, I suggest you send them in. These two didn't teach us much at all." He shut the door again, but not before we caught a glimpse of the two bodyguards unconscious on the floor. Well, Guide was on the floor. Nunzio was kind of standing on his head in the corner.
"Tough little guys," I remarked casually. "It must be the four arms. Think you could find work for them in the Mob?" Shai-ster was visibly shaken, but he recovered quickly. "So they want to play rough. Well, that's fine by me." "You aren't going in there alone, are you?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
He favored me with a withering glance.
"Not a chance."
With that, he put his fingers in his mouth and blew a loud blast. At least, that's what it looked like. I didn't hear a thing.
Before I could ask what he was doing, though, a thunder of footsteps announced the arrival of two dozen Mob reinforcements.
Neat trick. I guess the whistle had been too high for me to hear... or too low.
"They got Guido and Nunzio," Shai-ster shouted before the heavies had come to a complete halt. "Let's show 'em who's running things around here. Follow me?"
Jerking the door open, he plunged into the dressing room with the pack at his heels.
I'm not sure if Shai-ster had ever actually been in a fight before, much less led a team into a fight. I am, however, sure he never tried it again.
The screams of pain and anguish that poured out of that room moved me to take action. I walked a little further down the hall and did my waiting there. It turned out my caution was needless. The wall didn't collapse, nor did the ceiling or the building itself. Several hunks of plaster did come loose, however, and at one point someone poked a hole in the wall... with his head.
It occurred to me that if the fight fans in the arena really wanted to get their money's worth, they should be down here. Additional thought made me decide it was just as well they didn't. There were already more than enough beings crowded into that dressing room... which was as good a reason as any for my staying in the hall.