I almost ... almost! ... looked around to see where the Geek had gone. Then I did a little mental arithmetic and figured it out.
A disguise spell!
I’d gotten so used to fooling people myself with that spell that when someone did the same to me, I was completely taken in.
“Still kinda new at this intrigue stuff, aren’t you?” he observed dryly from his new face.
Fortunately I was saved the problem of thinking up a suitable response by the entrance of the contestants. With the scramble of planning and launching our counter-offensive, I hadn’t really been briefed on what the Mob was betting on except that it would be a tag-team wrestling match. No one said what the contestants would be like, and I had assumed it would be like the matches I had seen back on Klah. I should have known better. The two teams were made up of beings who barely stood high enough to reach my waist! I mean they were small! They looked like kids ... if you’re used to having kids around with four arms each.
“What are those?” I demanded.
“Those are the teams,” the Geek said helpfully.
“I mean, what are they? Where are they from?”
“Oh. Those are Tues.”
“And you bet on them? I mean, I’ve heard of midget wrestling, but this is ridiculous!”
“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.
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, Guido was on the floor. Nunzio was kind of stan
ding 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.
Eventually the sounds of battle died away, leaving only ominous silence. I reminded myself that I had every confidence in the outcome. As the length of silence grew, I found it necessary to remind myself several times.
Finally the door opened, and the four Tues filed out laughing and chatting together.
“Cute,” I called. “Don’t hurry or anything. I can worry out here all day.”
One of the white team ran up and gave me a hug and a kiss. “Sorry, handsome. We were having so much fun we forgot about you.”
“Um ... could you do something about the disguises before you kiss me again?”
“Whoops. Sorry about that!”
The taller red team member closed his eyes, and the Tues were gone. In their places stood Aahz, Gus, Tananda, and Chumly. That’s why I hadn’t been worried ... much.
“Nice work, Gus,” I said, nodding my approval. “But I still think I could have handled the disguises myself.”
“Have you ever seen a Tue before?” Aahz challenged.
“Well ... no.”
“Gus has. That’s why he handled the disguises. End of discussion.”
“Used to have a secretary named Etheyl,” the gargoyle explained, ignoring Aahz’s order. “She was a big fan of the wrestling circuit.”
“A secretary?” I blinked.
“Sure, haven’t you ever heard of a Tue Fingered Typist?”
“Enough!” Aahz insisted, holding up his hand. “I vote we head back to the Yellow Crescent Inn for a little celebration. I think we’ve thwarted the Mob enough for one night.”
“Yeah,” Tananda grinned. “That’ll teach ‘em to pick on someone their own size.”
“But you are their size,” I frowned.
“I know,” she winked. “That’s the point.”
“I say, are you sure, Aahz?” Chumly interjected. “I mean, we gave them a sound thrashing, but will it hold them until morning?”
“If they’re lucky,” my mentor grinned. “Remember, once they wake up, they’re going to have to report in to their superiors.”
“Do you think they’ll try to recoup their losses with another stab at gambling?” I asked.
“I hope so,” Aahz said, his grin getting broader. “The next big betting event on the docket is the unicorn races, and we’ve got that covered easily.”
“You mean Buttercup? You can’t enter him in a race. He’s a war-unicorn.”
“I know. Think about it.”
THE MOB did not try another gambit right after their disastrous attempt to move in on Deva’s bookies. In fact, for some time afterward, things were quiet ... too quiet, as Aahz put it.
“I don’t like it,” he declared, staring out the front window of the Yellow Crescent Inn. “They’re up to something. I can feel it.”
“Fats says they haven’t been around for nearly a week,” I supplied. “Maybe they’ve given up.”
“Not a chance. There’s got to be at least one more try, if for nothing else than to save face. And instead of getting ready, we’re sitting around on our butts.”
He was right. For days now, the team’s main activity had been hanging around Gus’s place waiting for some bit of information to turn up. Our scouting missions had yielded nothing, so we were pretty much reduced to relying on the normal Bazaar gossip network to alert us to any new Mob activity.
“Be reasonable, Aahz,” Chumly protested. “We can’t plan or prepare without any data to work with. You’ve said yourself that action in an absence of information is wasted effort, eh what? Makes the troops edgy.”
Aahz stalked over to where the troll was sprawled.
“Don’t start quoting me at me! You’re the one who usually argues with everything I say. If everybody starts agreeing with me, we aren’t using all the mental resources we can.”
“But you’re the one saying that we should be planning,” I pointed out.
“Right,” my mentor smiled. “So we might as well get started. In absence of hard facts, we’ll have to try to second-guess them. Now, where is the Bazaar most vulnerable to Mob takeover? Tananda, have you seen ... Tananda?”
She abandoned her window-gazing to focus on the discussion. “What was that, Aahz? Sorry. I was watching that Klahd coming down the street dressed in bright purple.”
“Purple!?”
Massha and I said it together.
I started to race her for the window, and then changed my mind. What if I won? I didn’t want to be between the window and her mass when she finally got there. Instead, I waited until she settled into position, and then eased in beside her.
“That’s him all right,” I said out loud, confirming my unvoiced thoughts. “That’s Don Bruce. Well, now we know what the Mob’s been doing. They’ve been whistling up the heavy artillery. The question is, what is he doing here at the Bazaar? When we get the answer to that, we’ll be able to plan our next move.”
“Actually, the question should be what is he doing here at the Yellow Crescent Inn,” Gus commented dryly from my elbow. “And I think we’re about to get the answer.”
Sure enough, Don Bruce was making a beeline for the very building we were watching him from. With his walk, it had taken me a minute to zero in on his direction.
“All right. We know who he is and that he’s coming here. Now, let’s quit gawking like a bunch of tourists.”
Aahz was back in his familiar commander role again. Still, I noticed he was no quicker to leave the window than any of the rest of us.
“Everybody sit down and act natural. Skeeve, when he gets here, let me do the talking, okay?”
“Not a chance, Aahz,” I said, sinking into a chair. “He’s used to dealing with me direct. If we try to run in a middleman he’ll know something’s up. Sit at this table with me, though. I’m going to need your advice on this one.”
By the time Don Bruce opened the door, we were all sitting; Aahz and I at one table, and two others accommodating Massha and Gus, and the Chumly Tananda team respectively. I noticed that we had lef
t two-thirds of the place empty to sit at adjoining tables, which might have looked a little suspicious. I also noticed we had reflexively split up into two-person teams again, but it was too late to correct either situation.
“Hi there,” Don Bruce called, spotting me at once. “Thank goodness I found you here. This Bazaar is great fun to wander, but simply beastly at finding what or who you’re looking for.”
“You were looking for me?”
This was not the best news I had heard all day. Despite his affected style of speech, I had a healthy respect for Don Bruce. From what I had seen of the Mob, it was a rough group, and I figured no one could hold down as high a position as Don Bruce did, unless there was some real hard rock under that soft exterior. Friendly greeting or not, I began to feel the fingers of cold fear gripping my stomach.
“That’s right. I’ve got to have a meet with you, you know? I was hoping I could speak with you in private.”
The last thing in the world I wanted right now was to be alone with Don Bruce.
“It’s all right,” I said expansively. “These are my friends. Any business I have with your ... organization we’re in on together ... I mean, can be discussed in front of them.”
“Oh, very well.”
The Mob chieftain flounced onto a chair at my table.
“I didn’t mean to be rude, and I do want to meet you all. It’s just that first thing there are some pressing matters to deal with.”
“Shoot,” I said, then immediately wished I had chosen another word.
“Well, you know we’re trying to move in on this place, and you know it hasn’t been going well ... no, don’t deny it. It’s true. Shai-ster has mentioned you often in his reports, so I know how well informed you are.”
“I haven’t seen Shai-ster lately, but I do know he’s been working hard at the project.”
“That’s right,” Aahz chimed in. “From what Skeeve’s been telling us, Shai-ster is a good man. If he can’t pull it off, you might as well pack up and go home.”
“He’s an idiot!” Don Bruce roared, and for a moment we could see the steel inside the velvet glove. “The reason you haven’t seen him is that I’ve pulled him from the project completely. He thought we should give up, too.”
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