Standing to his right and left were more guards, and before the throne was an audience like old-time kings had in the vids. They were mostly men, and the few women that were there looked like court pros. Our delegation stood in front of Pau Avanti, with Nance in front, Galvin O'Goomba and Bloody Sarah to her left, and Marantha Silver to her right. I was in the rear comfortably situated between Minnie McDavies and the Chopper.
Pau Avanti crossed his legs, leaned his right elbow upon an arm rest, and gestured with his hand. "You are here before me, woman, with tales of a great gang that comes in peace, yet is ready to have its many legions crush the Hand like so many insects." He grinned. "Why do I not believe you?"
"It's your choice," Nance answered. "But you might want to think real hard on which way you pick."
She turned around and pointed with her arm, indicating the entire camp. "Our trusty spies have seen the best you have here, Pau Avanti. Shall I tell you?"
"Please do."
"You have some real pretty tents, but you can only put up eight hundred rifles. Isn't that true?"
The man on the throne looked uncomfortable as he recrossed his legs. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."
Nance laughed out loud, and we laughed with her. My laughter might have been just a shade shrill. I checked and made certain that my right side was covered by the Chopper. When I looked to make certain that Minnie was protecting my left, I noticed she had vanished. I did a quick scan of the room, but couldn't find her.
"Pau Avanti," said Nance, "we have no desire to harm you or your people. Although we have more than ten thousand to throw against you, we are here strictly in peace. However, we do have a battle in mind."
"What battle might that be?"
"The Razai are heading south out of the desert. To do that we need to get through Boss Kegel. We think you're moving against Kegel. Perhaps we could join forces."
The prince rubbed his upper lip. "What makes you think we're moving against Kegel?"
Nance held out her hands. "Are you out in the desert taking a vacation?"
The entire population in the tent erupted with laughter, which quickly quieted as Avanti waved his hand. "Why we are here is our business." He pointed with his finger at Nance. "Why you are here, chili pepper, is the question."
Although she hid it pretty well, I could almost see the hairs on the back of Nance's head stand straight out. She took a step toward the prince, and six of the goombas standing around the throne moved in to protect their boss.
Nance held out her hands in a gesture of defeat and said, "Perhaps we can discuss this better alone, Pau Avanti."
Pau Avanti and some of his toughs laughed at this, then the prince's laughter was cut short. In a moment the laughter of the others died as they saw Minnie McDavies holding a razor at the left side of the prince's throat.
The toughs who had moved away from the throne to intercept Nance took a step back, but Minnie grinned and touched the edge of the blade against the skin of Avanti's throat.
"Don't come any closer, you handsome boys. In my hand is the sharpest razor in the universe. I can take his neck down to the spine in less than an eye blink."
One of the toughs said, "Say the word, Pau, and she's done past."
Minnie whispered into the prince's ear, "Don't you want your head? If for nothing else, you need it for this," she said as she stuck her tongue in his ear.
"Get out!" shouted Avanti as a blush covered his face. "All of you get out!" He nervously moistened his lips. "I have things to discuss with our friends."
Grudgingly the court emptied and stationed itself just outside the room. Minnie released the prince and smiled at him as he rubbed his neck, stared at her, and wiggled his finger in his ear.
Nance looked back and motioned with her head at Marantha Silver. Our own Mafia princess walked up and grinned at the Prince, "Pau Avanti," she said, "Parla italiano?"
"What?"
"Tell me about omerta, prince. What do you say when the fire is placed in your hands?"
"What fire? I don't know what you're talking about." He pointed a finger. "Do you?"
"Yes, I do." She folded her arms and smiled. "How would you like to boss the Hand?"
He studied her for a moment, then closed his eyes as he leaned back in his throne. As he opened his eyes again, he said, "I am Carlo's most loyal and devoted son."
"There is no question about that, Pau Avanti," said Marantha. "The question is, do you want to take his place as boss of the Hand?"
The prince sat up. "Say what you have come to say."
"Very well." Marantha looked at the man on the throne. "Pau Avanti, you are not Mafia, you are not Sicilian, you know next to nothing about either, and the only reason you hold the position you have is because this Carlo T. is just as ignorant."
"I suppose you think you know more than Carlo, more than me?"
"I am the daughter of a don. My father was Red Pete Argento, head of the Argento family in Philadelphia." She smiled again. "That's on Earth."
"I know where Philadelphia is," he answered. He placed his elbows on the throne's armrests and began rubbing his temples with his fingertips. He continued for a few moments, and clasped his hands when he was finished. He gave his throne room a careful scan to make certain none of his own gang was present.
"If I was interested," he said, his voice just above a whisper, "which of course I'm not, what do you think you could do to change things?"
Marantha grinned. "I could show you things, teach you things." She held her hand out toward us. "But not in front of the others. After all, omerta."
He pointed at Minnie McDavies. "Will you need her here?"
"No, but Minnie will be here. She is here, she is there, she is everywhere."
He sat up and nodded. "I will listen to at least a little of this nonsense, just to be polite." He held out a hand toward the corridor. "May I call my chief advisor?"
"Consigliere," she corrected.
"Yes, my consiggalorry, is it?"
"Quite close. And, certainly, it's permitted."
The prince held up his hand. "Voam! Come here."
A slender man in dark blue cloth robes entered and stopped at the right side of the throne. "Yes, Pau?"
The prince held out his hand indicating the rest of us. "Take our guests and entertain them." He pointed at me. "What's your name?"
"Bando Nicos," I answered
"Be sure to offer Mr. Nicos the hospitality of the Men's Hall." He gestured back toward Slicker Toan. "Him, too."
Pau Avanti looked around the room, his brow growing heavy with frown. "Where is the little black one?"
Minnie was gone. Nance shrugged and answered, "She's probably out there somewhere keeping watch on us all. If anything should happen to us, she's the one who will signal our legions, as well as avenge us."
The prince stared at Nance for a moment. "She has a rather disturbing way of getting about, doesn't she?"
"She disturbs a lot of men. I find her quite a comfort."
"Indeed."
The prince nodded at Voam and the consiggalorry held out his hands, indicating that all of us, except Marantha, should exit. Nance and I walked together, and as we came out of the entrance there was something bothering me. I spoke to Nance beneath my breath.
"Doesn't it strike you as just too good to be true that we have our very own Mafia princess right here in the Razai to run interference for us?"
"That does seem too good to be true," Nance confirmed.
"Yeah, especially since she's a cop for the MJ."
We were led to a place where what looked like a banquet had been laid out. There was a large circle of men sitting and eating, with the few women there that were waiting on them. The food looked very good, but my appetite died as my conversation with Nance continued.
"You know, Bando," she whispered, "Marantha's no Mafia princess."
"What?"
"She was the lead in our production of Mob Cinderella back in the Crotch. Everything she's said so fa
r is straight out of the script."
"Script?"
Nance grinned. "I played the part of Red Pete Argento."
I felt sick to my stomach. "But the Italian. She spoke the language."
"Right out of the script, Bando. She's really quick on her toes. Now that you mention it, I think she's Jewish. Keep your fingers crossed that she doesn't run out of lines."
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A Bird in the Hand
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Nance and the Chopper were seated at the banquet and were greeted with what appeared to be great enthusiasm. Atan Voam took Slicker and me to another tent. A guard on either side of the entrance lifted up double flaps and we walked into wonderland.
There was a rich scarlet carpet beneath our feet, a table heaped with hot meats, golden pastries, and beautiful fruit. There were even what looked to be wines and candies. There were six men seated on cushions around the table with four beautiful women clad in next to nothing waiting on them. Almost in shock I took a step backward and bumped into Slicker.
"Steady," cautioned the pickpocket.
One of the six men, a young looking fellow with a trim dark beard, got to his feet and looked inquiringly at Atan Voam. "My friends," began Atan, "Pau has asked that you entertain these two representatives of the Razai." He held out a hand toward me. "This is subchief Bando Nicos and his guard."
Slicker simply stood there looking like a side of beef, and I said, "His name is Slicker Toan."
Pau Avanti's number two glanced at Slicker as though he were trying to attach the name to the physical being and was getting a bad fit. Shrugging it off, he addressed the men at the table. "I count on you to show them the full courtesy of the Men's Hall."
"It would be my pleasure," said the man standing. His clothes were of a fine material, and his trousers and pullover were deep maroon. He had very rich looking soft-leather boots of gray on his feet. He nodded toward me. "My name is Padra Amitis. I command the Loyal Reds."
He held out his hand and introduced the other five men at the table. As each one was introduced, he stood and gave a friendly little smile and bow.
There was a squat, bull of a man, named Dagi Preit. He was the commander of the Mighty Blacks, and from the way Padra Amitis handed out the strokes, I gathered that Dagi Preit also ranked everybody else.
Yal Donat, a tall, blond, intelligent-looking sort who ought to have been off someplace painting flowers, was the commander of the Swift Whites. Mano Leaf, who had more chili pepper in him than goomba, was the commander of the Courageous Golds. A yard monster named Dono Vicar commanded the Faithful Blues, while a weasel-looking thing with burns on his face named Hach Imis commanded the Steadfast Greens.
There was a moment when I felt like introducing myself as Bando Nicos, big kahuna of the Chicken Yellows, but my attention was drawn to a silver-looking cabinet on the far side of the tent. The Commander of the Reds noticed where I was looking and smiled at me. "Ah, can I offer you a bath?"
"A bath?"
"Certainly. I apologize for not thinking of it."
"A bath? With water?" I asked.
They all laughed and Padra Amitis led me next to the cabinet. It turned out to be a high-backed bathtub. He snapped his fingers and two women appeared almost out of nowhere. "Prepare our guest for a bath."
"Immediately," answered one of them.
I felt a sharp jab in my back and I turned around to see Slicker staring off into the distance as though he were dead from the neck up. "And my guard," I said. "He could use a bath, too."
"Of course," said Padra Amitis, and he snapped his fingers again. The two women who showed up were ordered to bring in another tub, and all four of the women were ordered to bring in hot water. A curtain was drawn between us and the dining area, and two more women arrived and began undressing us.
"When you're finished," said the commander of the Loyal Reds, "join us at the table."
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After so much deprivation, my wishes and desires were being swamped with fulfillment. The undressing was efficient. It would have been sensual if I hadn't been so embarrassed at how bad I smelled. I was helped into the tub, and as I sank down into the steaming water, I hoped that the dirt wasn't the only thing holding me together.
I closed my eyes, leaned back, and sank as deep into the water as I could. Perfume reached my nostrils, and it made my head swim. Soapy hands began gently rubbing my chest, stomach, legs, and all intermediate stops.
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Later, feeling quite spent for several reasons, more hot water was added to the tub and Slicker and I were left alone to soak. It certainly beat slogging through the sand with Nance and the Razai Cops. I never believed it could be this good. I never believed I would ever feel this relaxed and safe again.
Another hand rubbed my chest and slid down my stomach where it came to rest among the jewels. I was so relaxed I didn't know if I was up for another round, but I was certainly willing to allow my bath-nymph to give it a try. The hand fondled me, and just as things were firming up, the hand gathered up my penis and scrotum together.
It felt just a little uncomfortable, and I opened one eye just a crack. I saw two very dark arms in the water as a husky voice whispered in my ear, "With me right now I have the sharpest razor in the universe. If you don't stop enjoying yourself so much and get back to work, what I have in my hand right now will go home with me."
After a moment of paralysis, I nodded. The hands slithered out of the water, I looked around, and Minnie McDavies was gone.
"Slicker?"
"Huh?"
I looked over at the pickpocket, and if he had been any more relaxed he would have been liquid. "Did you see anything?"
"See what?"
I looked around again, almost doubting my senses, yet feeling awfully vulnerable. I stood up in my God-issue and grabbed a towel. "Let's get to work."
"Bando, can't we just lounge around a little longer?"
"You want to sing soprano for the rest of your life?" I demanded angrily. "Let's go!"
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The Other Side
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If I had a brick for every time I had wasted time dreaming about how things should be for Bando Nicos, I would be able to build four Philadelphias. Behind the crowbars, the dreams were always about the other side of the bars. Outside, on the block, the dreams were always about another planet, another country, the other side of town, the other side of a security wall, the other side of a lock.
Sometimes I would get into primo deep wallow with my fantasies and wouldn't come out for days. I don't mean that I was gibbers or anything. It's just that I would have either the picture or the feeling of what things should be with me all the time.
It made it easier to pick up that piece of jewelry when no one was looking. After all, when you think about where I was, and then looked at where I should have been, things needed to be evened out. I had a right to even them. The diamonds were mine. The juicer never saw it like that, but it helped to keep a troublesome conscience quiet.
In the Men's Hall at the edge of the Forever Sand, with a full belly, a glass or two of wine buzzing my head, and the richness of the tent and the beautiful girls filling my eyes, I thought about all of the different fantasies that had ruled my life. I wondered if any of them could ever live up to the reality I was wallowing in right then. I even heard music coming from the banquet circle outside the tent. It was a snappy tune that almost forced you to move your feet.
"To brotherhood and honor!" toasted the commander of the Blues, Dono Vicar.
"To brotherhood and honor!" we all toasted back. I only touched the heady wine to my lips, and did not drink any more. I could just imagine the alks back in the walking column dragging their tongues in the sand for just a wee drop of what I wasn't drinking, but I had to keep my head screwed on straight if I didn't
want Minnie McDavis to get beneath my sheet with the universe's most honed penis plucker.
There was another reason for keeping straight. Sharks are sharks the whole galaxy over, and none of the brothers of the crowbar would put on an extravagant show such as that without wanting something in return. What did they want? That was the question.
The one obvious thing they wanted was women. The few that Slicker and I had seen in camp were gorgeous, but they were very few and seemed to be nothing more than servants or slaves.
A bare arm reached over my shoulder and filled my wine cup to the brim. I looked up to see one of the lovely servants, and she did have a pleasant smile on her face. I examined the face for as long as I could, and when I turned back to my meal and the conversation, something nagged at the back of my head. The woman only smiled with her mouth, and there was something about the eyes that bothered me. The eyes were hard—a strange mix of hate and fear.
Mano Leaf, the commander of the Courageous Golds, struggled to his feet to give a toast. As he did so, something slipped off his cushion onto the floor. I leaned over, picked it up, and saw that it was a book. It had a leather cover that was so old the title stamped on the spine was unreadable.
Sickness gnawed at my guts. That particular cover was very familiar to me. I almost cried to see it. Robert Southey's Life of Nelson. Inside on the crumbly pages there would be a beautiful old engraving titled "Nelson's Conflict with a Spanish Launch." It would show the old-time British sailor, with all of his arms, getting ready to shove three feet of steel through a sad-eyed Spaniard. Opposite the engraving would be the title page, and at the bottom of the title page it would say "London. Bickers and Son, Leicester Square. 1883." It had been Big Dave Cole who had told me that Leicester was pronounced "Lester."
After my quarantine at Greenville, I had been sitting on my bunk in my new cell splitting my skull with suppressed rage, trying not to blow up. I couldn't bear the thought of being dropped into the black hole, or tossed into a rubber room, so I just sat there, my arms wrapped around my guts, trying not to make a sound, knowing that if I kept too quiet, that could end in the rubber room, too.
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