"No ... I mean what did you say about teamsters?"
"Teamsters," Shu repeats. "You know. The guys that drive freight wagons ... at least, that's what we called 'em back on the farm."
I look at Nunzio and he looks at me, and I realize from our smiles we is thinkin' the same thing.
"Spyder," I sez, "you found the Mob once in Twixt ... do you think you could do it again?"
"Sure," she shrugs. "Why?"
"I got a message I want you to get to Don Bruce," I smiles. "I think we just found somethin' he can do to help us."
Chapter Seventeen;
"Ya gotta speak the language."
-N. WEBSTER
"HEY, SWATTER." Shu Flie sez, lookin' out one of the warehouse windows, "do you know there are a buncha wagons and drivers sitting outside?"
"No," I sez, "but if you hum a couple bars, I'll fake it."
Okay, so it's an old joke. Like I've said before, the army runs on old jokes. Unfortuitously, this particular joke is apparently a little too old for our farm-raised colleague.
"Say what?" he sez, lookin' kinda puzzled.
"Strike that," I sez. "Are they army or civilian?"
While it is procedure to have army wagons and drivers take shipments out of the supply depot, deliveries from suppliers is done by the supplier's own transports, and are therefore civilian.
"Civilian," Shu sez.
"Are the wagons full or empty?"
"They look empty from here."
I look over at Nunzio.
"Think it might be the teamsters we're expectin'?"
"Easy enough to check," he shrugs. "Hey Shu! What are they doing?"
"Nothing," the Flie brother reports. "They're just sitting around and talking."
"Sounds like them," Nunzio smirks. "I think it's your deal, Junebug."
As you might be able to detect from this last comment, we're all occupied with our favorite pastime, which is to say, Dragon Poker.
"Shouldn't one of you go out and talk to them or something?" Shu sez, wanderin' over to our table.
"It wouldn't do any good," I sez, peekin' at my hole cards. "They'll talk to us when they're good and ready ... and not before. Pull up a chair and relax."
As it turns out, it is several hours before there is any contact with the drivers. When it finally comes, it takes the form of a big, potbellied individual with a tattoo on his arm who comes waddlin' through the door and over to our game.
"Hey, hey!" he snarls, "is somebody gonna talk to us or what?"
Now, just because Nunzio and me is big guys what get our way by tossin' our weight around does not mean we are particularly tolerant of anyone else who does the same thing.
"We figured you guys would talk to us when you were good and ready and not before," Nunzio sez, gettin' to his feet. "You got a problem with that?"
"Oh yeah?" the guy hollers, goin' nose to nose with Nunzio. "Well for your information, we'll talk when we're good and ... and ... oh. Yeah."
It takes a little doin', but I manage to hide my smile. This guy is already at a disadvantage in the negotiations, as my cousin has beaten him to his own punch line. Havin' lost the edge in the bluster department, he retreats to his secondary defense of indifference.
"We ... ah ... heard around that you guys was lookin' for some civilian transport, so we thought we'd drop by and see what the score was for ourselves."
"The stuff's over there on the loadin' dock." I sez, jerkin' a thumb in the appropriate direction. "And here's the list of where it's supposed to go. Bill us."
I nod to Bee, who hands the guy the papers for the shipments we have selected. Like I say, we'd been expecting them.
The guy looks at the list he's holdin' like if s a road kill.
"Just like that, huh?" he sneers. "Don't you wanna talk about our haulin' rates?"
"No need for that," I shrugs. "I'm sure you'll charge us a fair price."
"You are?" he sez, squintin' suspicious-like.
"Sure," I sez, givin' him my best collection agent's smile, "especially seein' as how the rates is gonna be reviewed ... and if they look outta line, there's gonna be an investigation,"
"An investigation," the driver sneers. "We get Royal investigations all the time ... and we ain't changed nothin' yet. If they give us too much grief, we just threaten to shut down haulin' all over the kingdom."
"We wasn't talkin' about no Royal Investigation," Nunzio sez. "We was thinkin' of another judgmental body."
"Oh yeah? Like who?"
Nunzio winks at me, and I take a deep breath and give it my best shot.
"Don ... de don don. Don ... de don don Bruuuuuce!"
Though my singin' voice is not what you would call a real show stopper, the guy gets the message. His smile droops, and he swallows hard ... but he's a fighter and tries to rally back.
"Yeah, okay, so you get our 'special' rates. Just don't expect any express delivery."
Now it's Nunzio's turn to show off his grin.
"Friend," he sez, "if we wanted efficiency, we wouldn't have sent for the teamsters."
"What's that supposed to mean?" the guy bellows, gettin' back some of the color he lost when we mentioned Don Bruce.
"Just that your normal delivery schedules will suit us fine," I sez, innocent-like. "Know what I mean?"
"Yeah ... well ... I guess that's settled," the guy sez, lookin' back and forth between Nunzio and the men. "We'll go ahead and get started."
As he is goin', I find I cannot resist takin' one last dig at him.
"Say, Nunzio," I sez in a loud voice. "What do you call a teamster in a three piece suit?"
"The defendant!" Nunzio shoots back just as loud.
This humor goes right past the others in the crew, but the driver gets it. He breaks stride, and for a second I think he's gonna come back to "discuss" it with us at length. Instead, he just keeps on goin' and contents himself with slammin' the door for his witty response.
"You know, Guide," Nunzio sez, goin' back to studyin' his cards, "special rates or not, eventually we're going to have to pay these jokers ... and we do not currently have access to the funds we are accustomed to operating with in M.Y.T.H. Inc."
"Relax, cuz," I sez, seein' the current bet and raisin' it, "I got an idea for that, too."
I have a chance to try out my plan that afternoon when a shipment arrives from one of our suppliers. I wait until the unloadin' is almost complete, then amble over to the driver.
"Say ... you got a minute?" I sez, friendlylike.
"Okay," the driver shrugs. "What's up?"
"Well," I sez, lookin' around like I'm expectin' a cop, "I got some information you should pass back to your outfit."
"What's that?"
"There's a rumor goin' around that the queen is callin' for an audit on military spendin'," I sez. "Somethin' about a lot of our suppliers chargin' us more for supplies than they do civilians."
"An audit?" he repeats, suddenly lookin' real nervous.
"Yeah, scuttlebutt has it that any outfit caught gougin' extra profits out of army contracts is gonna get shut down and their entire inventory confiscated by the government."
"Is that legal?"
"Hey, we're talkin' the queen here. If she sez it's legal, it's legal."
"When is this gonna happen?"
"Not until next month, the way I hear it," I sez. "I just thought you might like to know a little in advance. You know, so just in case any of youse guys' prices should need some quick readjusting youse could do it before the audit started."