“You boys looking for an unregistered synoid? Got a pleasure unit here. She’ll do all the nasty things you want. Forget a pro skirt — no risk of STDs from a synoid.”
“Got fur coats here. Leather bombers. Genuine, made from cloned cattle. Make you a deal right now.”
“Get your smokes here, gents. Lucky Strikes, Cubans, whatever your pleasure. Buy ‘em by the case, I make you a deal.”
“Need a gat? I got handguns, Thompsons, scatterguns. Enough lead to send everyone you hate straight to hell.”
We kept walking. I glanced at Benny. “You know what to do, right?”
“Fuggetaboutit, Mick. I got it down pat.”
“Let’s do it, then.”
Poddar waited for us under a canopy in a little dive called the Rat Shack. He sat alone at the table, completely relaxed as he bit into a thick sandwich. It was funny in a way. I’d always had Poddar pegged for the square type, because he was. But I also knew he was dangerous — it just never really hit me until that moment. There was something about his causality in the core of the mean surroundings. He appeared completely in his element sitting at that crappy excuse for a restaurant, watching dirty water stream from the overhanging canopy and sparkle in the winking neon.
I glanced at the sign. “Nice. Word is their vermin steak is the best in town.”
Poddar looked at the half-eaten, fully loaded steak and Swiss in his hand. “Not half bad. You ordering?”
“Just ate. Lambrou’s. Shoulda been there. The moussaka was to die for.”
“Next time. Where’s Natasha?”
“Outta the picture.”
“Safe?”
“No one’s safe, Poddar. She’s a big girl now. This had to happen.”
He studied me for a second. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugged slightly. “Ok.” A slight smile played on his lips when he nodded at Benny. “I see your partner hasn’t been rubbed out yet.”
Benny frowned. “How come everyone keeps sayin’ that?”
“Don’t sweat it, Benny.” I glanced around. The dive looked like a food truck had been renovated and expanded into a dingy restaurant. There were no other patrons, just the cook lounging behind the counter. He was an oily, baldheaded, hairy slab of flab with a filthy apron and an anchor tattoo on his burly arm. He waved a grease-spattered spoon in greeting.
I nodded back before turning to Poddar. “I see Kilby isn’t here. I’d have thought to find you stapled to her side.”
“She checked in with the Gutter Girls. You know how their sorority is.”
“No men allowed. I get it.”
“I’m meeting with her later. But she told me to pass on Selene’s response. Her Gutter Girls don’t outsource, especially not to the Service. Your killer’s not one of them.”
“Yeah, I already got that angle covered. Where’s this handler you were supposed to be meeting up with, Poddar? It’s not like I got all the time in the world.”
Poddar glanced over at the cook. “That’s Joe. He’s the guy I told you about.”
I did a double-take. “Pig Boy is the fence that got you in? I’ll be dammed.”
Poddar took another bite of his sandwich. “You know how things are with appearances in this town.”
“Yeah. All too well.” I strolled over to the counter. Joe gave me the once-over with his beady eyes.
“You must be here for the carrot cake.”
I glanced at the grimy countertop. “This joint is a pigpen, Joe.”
“The dirtier the joint, the better the grub.” He winked.
“Can’t argue with that. Gimme a small slice. Gotta watch the waistline.”
He chuckled as he pulled a wrapped slice from behind the counter. “Best in town, or your dibs back.”
“Really?”
“Naw. I’m taking the dibs.”
I wiped the fork with my napkin and dug in. The lumpy cake was surprisingly moist. The cream cheese frosting was a taste bud’s dream, and the spice cake was studded with plump raisins and crunchy walnuts. My eyebrows lifted. “Not bad, Joe. Not bad at all.”
He grinned, showing off the glimmering gold grill that lined his choppers. “Told ya so.” He leaned his beefy arms on the counter. The pungent aroma of sour sweat wafted from his body. “My man tells me you’re looking for some info on a recent drop. Can’t help ya. Privacy is a big thing in my business. You know how it is.”
“I’m betting ten large can make you reconsider.” I pushed the loaded dib card his direction with my finger.
He didn’t even glance at it. “Chump change. I get twice that as an advance for just a consultation.”
“That’s all you’re getting from me. That and my eternal gratitude. You might require a man of my skills at some point or another. I’d owe you.”
He scratched the stubble on both of his chins. “I might, sure. But I don’t deal in mights. I deal in absolutes. And there’s absolutely no way I give up that kinda info without a much larger incentive.”
I set my fork down and wiped my mouth with the napkin. “I got a major incentive for you.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You going home in one piece tonight.”
He hesitated, studying my face as if to see if I was joking. Then he burst out laughing.
“You got some balls, pal. Whaddya gonna do, jump me? Beat me down? You?” His chubby parts shook with mirth. “Or you plan on pulling your heater? Trust me, I got a loaded scattergun right here that’ll fill you with daylight if you even dream of putting your hand inside your jacket.”
I grinned. “You got me, Mack. I don’t plan on doing a thing to you.”
“Then why you gotta do this tough guy shtick? You’re about to lost my interest real quick, bud.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I told you I wasn’t gonna do a thing to you. I didn’t say anything about him.” I jerked a thumb at Benny, who turned at that exact moment. The sneer on his face was perfect as he cracked his knuckles so loud the sound echoed.
“That’s Ben the Bear. He’s Moe Flacco’s nephew. You might have heard of him on account of how he rips saps limb from limb. He says he likes the fat ones. They can take a lot more punishment.”
Benny grinned.
Sweat beaded on Joe’s forehead as his glance wavered from me to Benny. He swallowed. “I’m not kidding about that scattergun. You boys try something and I’ll—”
“You gonna talk about that thing or you gonna pull it? I’m a man with the Mob on one shoulder and the Secret Service on the other. I got nothing to lose, friend. So you go ahead and burn powder if you got the nerve. You better hope you bump both of us off, though. That way you’ll be explaining to the Borgata why you whacked one of their buttons.”
Joe’s rubbery lips quivered. “Youse guys can’t be coming in here putting the squeeze on me. I know people.”
“Not the people I know. Or else you’d be begging to squeal, little piggy. So what’s it gonna be? I don’t got all day.”
“Ok, ok.” Joe heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Look, I got connections with a few suits in Customs. I wave some dibs, they turn a blind eye to certain shipments coming in. Keeps ‘em off the books.”
“I know how it works, Ace. I wanna know about a shipment with some rather unique cargo. As in a live body. A female one, to be exact. Had to be recent. A week or two back, I’m thinking.”
He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, yeah. I know just the one you’re talking about. A strange one, that was. Nothing strange about smuggling a dame, of course. We get girls in from time to time.”
“Spare me the details. I just wanna know who ordered the shipment.”
“Ok, ok. What was strange was it was a double smuggle.” He grinned. “Heh. That rhymes.” His smile slipped when he saw my expression. “Anyhow, the dame was smuggled in on a shipment of narcotics.”
“Yeah? What type?”