Chapter 7
When Tats woke up it was sunny out, but he could tell right away that the zenith of the sun’s ferocity had likely passed. He checked his watch and saw it was just slightly after 4 p.m. He patted Valiant on the side, and he quickly stood up and then parted company with a material whose stench gave Tats more than sufficient incentive to get moving away from there.
He untied Valiant, mounted him, and set off.
He found the pathway much easier to follow now, so he figured that was a sign he was getting closer to Sodorf City, as most people called it—though it was formally the City of Sodorf. He didn’t feel any terrible aftereffects from the Green he had had last night, something he attributed to the very low dose he had taken. Nonetheless, he was amazed at the boost of energy it had given him at a time he was sure coffee would have delayed sleep no more than another thirty minutes.
His mind tried to wander back to the issue of Chalky, now that the road was clear enough (for it now seemed more than a mere pathway) to not require any significant amount of mental concentration, but he found this to be an extremely unpleasant topic, so he banished it. He instead began to direct his mental faculties towards the pleasant surroundings.
The green grass, the verdure of the forests, the blue sky all worked together to provide picturesque entertainment during what would otherwise have been a dreary journey.
About five hours later, just when the sun was beginning to rapidly succumb to nightfall, he started to see the outline of buildings. Not too much longer, he began to occasionally notice a passerby. Then, he could see lights from various building. Several minutes later, he entered the city proper.
He realized nighttime was the best time for him to seek out his sister if she was still engaged in the occupation that had been her mainstay before police problems had prompted her to seek a drastic change of venue. Rebecca Havensford was eighteen years Tats’ senior. She knew all about the terrifying episodes of violence between Tats’ mother and deceased father. She had seen many of them firsthand, and little slips in conversations over time had informed Tats that Rebecca had had her fair share of abuse herself from the old monster. And not just beatings.
But somehow Rebecca had emerged from it all tougher than nails. Of course, what Tats thought of as “tough” others may have thought of as terrifying. Tats had either never seen the almost demonic aura emanating from her eyes or had chosen to overlook it. All he knew was that Becca always took good care of him growing up, and he had missed her terribly when she left the country.
He had been about fifteen at the time and was now twenty-two. She had always “done what it took” to survive. Although Tats’ mother had always been somewhat doting—at least as doting as a dirt-poor parent could be—she had been rough on Becca, and the two hated each other fiercely. Tats had quit school around age twelve, due to his mom’s inability to pay the meager fees the school charged students to borrow textbooks (purchasing them was even further from being a financially viable option), so sixth grade had been the last year of his academic career, even though he was usually an A or B student.
Becca had given him a variety of jobs to keep him busy. He would let out a special whistle when the cops were coming to pay her establishment a visit. He had been a bit naïve at first as to what went on in the various buildings (the location changed about as regularly as a lady’s hat), but he noticed all of Becca’s workers were women and all the customers were men.
By the time a year or two had passed, he was well versed in the precise nature of her prostitution organization and knew that Becca was a well-respected madam who was able to provide pretty girls for a fair price. She also had a bit of a vicious reputation when dealing with anyone trying to bilk her.
Stories of noses being cut off, tell-all letters being sent to prominent clients’ wives (in cases where such news would not be superfluous), and throats being cut abounded. There were stories of still more vicious acts, but Tats tried not to think about these things. People did have a tendency to exaggerate after all. But he realized she must have done something right because references to her being cozened were scarce, and whenever he heard people talk about her it was fear if not respect. And in Tats’ mind, the difference was not particularly important.
But she had met her match when the chief of police’s son had scammed her. He had run up a large bill after he and about ten of his high school buddies stopped in to celebrate their graduation. The way the story went, they only had enough to pay for about half their bill. Given the police chief connection, Becca would have likely been willing to let the bill wait for a time before escalating matters, but when Albert, the police chief’s son, had told her, “My dad’s the chief! What the hell are you gonna do about it?” she had answered his inquiry by throwing a small lasso around his neck—something she apparently kept hidden in the sleeve of her dress—and then, in no apparent hurry, slowly strangled the life out of Albert in front of his stupefied companions, who gaped and awed but dared not lift a finger to help wrest him from the clutches of the cold-blooded killer in front of them.
Becca could have easily used any one of the six hulking bodyguards present to dispatch the rotten Albert, but Becca had always felt some jobs you just had to do yourself. Albert apparently was one of those jobs. Witnesses said her eyes took on a calm glaze, suggesting she felt most at peace when separating one’s soul from the body.
Nonetheless, she realized after doing so that she had outworn her welcome in Sivingdel. She stopped by Tats’ house to say goodbye to him. Her mother wouldn’t even let her inside, so Tats had to go outside. She explained that “some trouble” had happened and that she was going away for a while. She had told him her destination was Sodorf City, since she thought it was the closest place outside the country to ply her trade. She made him promise to keep it a close secret, something he realized he had partially broken by telling Mr. Brass her whereabouts.
But during the last seven years, the former chief of police was indicted for accepting bribes and sent to prison. Albert was missed by few other than his father, so the case quickly went from a high to a zero priority. Tats wondered why Becca hadn’t come back. Perhaps she hadn’t heard the good news, or perhaps she still thought it too risky. Tats couldn’t even be sure she was still alive.
The International Businessman Page 8
