by Mia Gold
Not only does he know how to bet, he knows to quit when he’s ahead.
Perhaps he knew the fighters, because they were evenly matched and for the first several minutes Ruby had no idea who would win. The pair grappled and punched, occasionally throwing a knee strike or trying a chokehold. Whoever ended up on bottom always managed to get out. Both began to tire at the same rate.
Ruby glanced over at Bob Marley, who lounged at the bar, sipping premium rum and watching the fight. He still hadn’t placed a bet.
The fight ground on for another minute until one fighter got a lucky hit, a straight shot through his opponent’s guard square on the jaw. The man’s head snapped back and the fighter who got the lucky shot was all over him. It still took another minute for him to tap out, but after that one shot it was all over.
Sometimes you get a lucky shot. Sometimes you get an unlucky one, Ruby thought.
Finally the guard returned with the bookie, a pot-bellied older man with a notebook in his hand and a well-chewed ballpoint pen tucked behind one ear. He looked as out of place as Ruby felt. The bookie made a deep bow before the throne.
“So you took that man’s bets?” the King asked.
“Both nights, Your Highness.”
“How much did he bet?”
The bookie’s eyes turned up as he recalled. “His first bet was for five hundred dollars on the Giant vs. Hurricane fight. Three to two odds on the Hurricane. He bet on the Giant. Hurricane won. His next bet was for eight hundred dollars on Evil Eddie in his fight with the Strangler. Eddie was at two to one odds but he won. His next bet was—”
The King raised a hand. “I don’t need that much detail. How did he fare overall?”
Ruby cut in. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me this guy remembers every bet someone made a few nights ago?”
The King smiled. “He’s one of my best. A true head for numbers.”
“Why isn’t he teaching at a university?”
The King turned to the bookie. “How much does the average university professor make in the Bahamas?”
“By average, do you want the mean, median, or mode?”
“Whatever.”
“A mean income of fifty-eight thousand dollars a year, Your Highness.”
“And do I pay you more?”
The bookie bowed, smiling. “Much more, Your Highness.”
The King turned to Ruby. “As I told you, the man knows his numbers.” He turned back to the bookie. “You were about to tell the lady how this better fared overall.”
“He lost eight bets and won two for a net loss of twenty-four thousand dollars.”
Ruby let out a low whistle. Even a high-flying stockbroker must have felt that. “Did he cause trouble?”
“He got very angry at his losses,” the bookie said. “Cursed at the fighters and spat into the ring. He was given his one warning when he did that.”
“His one warning?”
“Cursing at the fighters is allowed. It is only natural. Spitting is over the line. If a guest breaks one of the rules, a guard comes up and explains that if he gets out of line again, he’ll be thrown in the ring with one of our fighters.”
“Ouch,” Ruby said. “Has anyone ever broken the rules more than once?”
The King chuckled. “Very rarely. It’s too bad. It always makes for great entertainment.”
“Entertaining but not profitable,” the bookie added. “No one ever bets on the guest.”
“So the man I’m looking for behaved himself after the spitting incident?” Ruby asked.
“He did, madam,” the bookie said.
“So how did he get here?” Ruby asked. “There’s no way he could have gotten through the Maze in one piece.”
The King made a motion to dismiss the bookie, who bowed and left, then replied, “He made contact with someone who knew how to get down here. I don’t know who. He arrived by car, and the car waited for him until his evening was over, then drove him back to the Coast of Dreams and his wife, Elaine. He did the same the next night.”
Ruby shifted on her stool. Those few minutes with her phone had told him way too much. What if he decided to shake down Elaine?
She wasn’t sure what she could do about that except to warn her to stay in the resort. The King probably couldn’t reach her there, or at least wouldn’t dare try. She remembered during her days working with the senator speaking with a Mexican journalist who said that resorts in Mexico tended to be safe because the cartels owned them. They didn’t attack foreigners there because the reprisals would hit their own resorts, and it would be bad for everybody’s business. Was it the same for the Bahamas?
She bit her lip. This beautiful string of islands was like a pretty stone lying on the ground. Turn it over and you find a bunch of worms.
“On the second night, you must have noted who his guide was,” Ruby said.
The King smiled. “Why do you think that?”
“Because you run a tight ship. I live here and I’ve never even heard of this place.”
“Yes, I know who guided him here. A small-time pimp named Silver.”
Ruby nodded. That must be Bimini’s pimp. Or the pimp of that friend she never named.
“What’s Silver’s last name?”
“Don’t know. He’s too little to pay attention to. Silver isn’t his first name either. It’s his street name. Wears a lot of silver.”
Ruby smiled. The way he said “silver” made it sound like an upper-class Englishman sneering at someone wearing the wrong school tie. “Not gold like you?”
“Thinks it makes him look distinctive. Instead it makes him look like a chump.”
Ruby stood. “Thank you. This helps.”
“I am most happy to grant you assistance. Dead tourists are bad for business, as you say. Good luck with your investigation, and good luck on your next two fights.”
Ruby blinked. “Next two fights? The deal was for one fight and you answer my questions.”
The King raised a finger. “The deal was for one question, whether or not Richard Wainwright had ever been here.” He raised another finger. “Then you asked how he got here.” A third finger went up. “Then you asked for the name of the person who brought him here. Three questions, three fights.”
“I’m not fighting again.”
The gasp of the crowd made her turn. Another man had fallen in a bloody heap.
“You will.” The King said this without the slightest force. He merely stated it as fact.
“I won’t,” Ruby insisted, turning back to the King. This man could have her killed with the snap of a finger, but she knew her safest option was to not show fear. If he thought he had his hooks in her, pretty soon he’d be running her life.
The King gave her another of his stony-faced stares. After a moment he smiled and raised his hands as if he was helpless against her objection.
“I cannot make a fighter fight if they don’t want to. We are all free here. You may go. The man you came with has arranged a taxi to get you out of the Maze. Don’t worry about paying him. He has already been amply rewarded.”
“Thanks for all your help,” Ruby said. She found herself inclining her head. It wasn’t exactly a bow—Ruby wouldn’t allow herself to do that—and yet it was more than a thank you.
The truth was, she was terrified of this man. And she didn’t believe his sudden change of opinion about her fighting.
She stepped off the podium to find Bob Marley already standing there. He gave a nervous bow toward the throne and they withdrew, skirting the edge of the crowd and heading for the door. Ruby felt scared, grim, and a bit ill.
Bob Marley was ecstatic.
“That was awesome! I love the way you knocked that guy down. I knew I was doing the right thing betting on you. And the King gave me a roll too. He sure was happy I brought you here. I told you me and him are tight.”
“He’s probably never seen you before.”
“So? We’re tight now. I’m his main man. Your main man too. You
and I are going to make a lot of money. I’ll be your manager. Set up all your best fights.”
“You think I’m going to hire you as my manager? Less than an hour ago you tried to rob and gang rape me.”
Bob Marley rolled his eyes. “That was ages ago. Things are different now. Why you always hanging on to the past?”
Bob Marley pushed open the door and they came to an open area filled with cars, everything from beat up old unlicensed cabs to luxury limos. He led her to a nondescript old Nissan Sentra.
“The driver is a friend of mine,” Bob Marley said. “Best driver in the Bahamas. Knows the islands like the back of his hand. Will find anyplace, take you anywhere … for a price.”
They got in the back. A nondescript Bahamian man in his early forties, looking utterly normal, turned around from the driver’s seat and flashed Ruby a smile, showing a gold front tooth. The floodlights on top of the warehouse made it gleam.
Bob Marley made the introductions. “This is Goldtooth. Goldtooth, I’d like you to meet a up and coming fighter, Ruby Steele.”
Ruby’s jaw dropped. How the hell did he know her name?
The phone. Of course. The King must have given him her name. That must have been a part of his reward.
What else had the King told him about her?
Bob Marley continued. “Goldtooth, I was just telling her you’re the best driver in the business. Anyplace, anytime.”
Goldtooth handed her a business card. It was in the shape of a tooth, and made of shiny gold paper. On it in embossed letters were the words “Magic Carpet Taxi” along with a phone number.
“You might be needing this,” he said. “I can give you a magic carpet ride anywhere you need to go.”
Ruby took it. The way her life was going, it might prove to be valuable.
The car pulled out, getting onto a wider alley that Ruby hadn’t found in her walk down into this valley of despair.
Even though the sedan was fairly compact, and the alley was the biggest Ruby had seen in the Maze, the car could barely fit through the shacks and shoddy market stands that crowded in on it on either side. Ruby wondered how the limos made it through.
Probably just run people over, Ruby figured.
Looking out at the drawn faces and tattered clothing, the trash fires and pools of open sewage, she also wondered how they could make it through this neighborhood without getting rocks thrown at them.
Ruby realized Bob Marley was still talking.
“You and I are gonna go far, girl. I know all the fighters. All their strengths and weaknesses. I can fill you in, get you fights with people you can beat. You ain’t the only female fighter, you know. I’ll match you up with one of them. A catfight would draw in the crowds. I’m gonna make you a star.”
“You’re never going to see me after tonight,” Ruby replied, irritated.
“You still mad about how we first met? That’s water under the bridge. It’s all business now. I won’t even touch you. Unless, you know …” His hand strayed toward her thigh.
“Touch me and I’ll break all of your fingers.”
Bob Marley pulled his hand away.
“Where to?” Goldtooth asked.
“Take me to St. Bernard’s Park.” It was in a decent part of town, just down the street from the archdiocese. She’d be safe there at that hour. Even better, there was a taxi stand there.
“I’ll take you home,” Goldtooth said.
“No you won’t.”
“I am the soul of discretion. My business relies on it.”
“Maybe you are. This thug isn’t,” Ruby replied, jerking a thumb at the man in the back with her.
“You’re missing a big chance,” Bob Marley said.
“Shut up and let me think,” Ruby said.
She had a lot to think about as the car made its way out of the valley past the hungry faces. The first thing she needed to do was talk to Bimini about Silver. He was the next obvious person to talk to, although it was far too late and Ruby was hurting far too badly to do that tonight. She was spent.
She’d look up Silver tomorrow. He might be the key to unraveling all of this. Silver had taken Richard to the fights, and that was the most likely place for that idiot to have gotten into trouble.
Ruby wondered about what else Richard might have gotten up to, and how Elaine could have been so foolish as to see nothing of her husband’s true character. She also wondered just how much the King had gotten from her phone. What if he brought in one of those bookies with the photographic memory? He could have her entire contact list. Then there were the photos. He had been scrolling through them when she had shown up.
Turning her phone away so Bob Marley couldn’t see, she scrolled through the photos. The two of Richard came first, followed by a few photos of Kristiano and her joking around on the beach from a couple of weeks before. That made her tense. At least the King wouldn’t know who that was.
That reassured her until she came to the next photo.
A shot of her, Kristiano, and Neville outside the Pirate’s Cove, with the sign clearly visible.
It had been the bar’s tenth anniversary. They had thrown a big party.
The King had probably seen that.
He knew where she worked.
“Ah! I know who I’ll have you fight,” Bob Marley said. “The Dreadnought. He’s tough but cocky. You’re sure to win.”
“I said I’m not fighting anyone. Even the King said I don’t have to.”
Bob Marley only laughed. “You think he meant that? Damn, girl, you’re not cut out for the Maze. You really do need me as your manager.”
Ruby felt a prickling all over her skin. She looked at the photo of her and her friends outside the Pirate’s Cove and shuddered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ruby’s jog along the beach the next morning had the savor of a rebirth. She was away from street fights, away from secret warehouses full of criminals, away from slums. She would plunge back into that soon enough. The first thing she had to do was find Silver. If he was as small time as the King said, she might be able to browbeat him into talking to the cops. If that didn’t work, she could probably get Elaine to bribe him. What little she knew about the street told her that people didn’t usually snitch, but giving evidence about a murdered tourist wasn’t like narcing on the local coke dealer.
Ruby grimaced. She’d soon be back in all that muck.
But for the moment she felt free. She was back to running along a beautiful beach on her way to the Waving Palms, her usual breakfast spot. Zoomer scampered across the wet sand right behind her.
Only the dull ache of her bruises, and the sharp pain in her side from a rib she now felt sure was cracked, reminded her of the foulness of the previous night.
Those and the wounds inside.
She had seen too much suffering, too much hate.
Too much outright evil.
The pain in her side felt refreshing. Every jab reminded her of her failures. Her failure to help that little girl beyond next week. Her failure to find any solid lead on who killed Richard. Her failure to save herself and her friends.
And most of all, her failure to save Senator Wishbourne.
Seeing Tim Harris the previous night had dredged all that up. She had been too exhausted by the time she had made it back home to do anything but crash in bed and fall into dreamless sleep, but in the hard light of dawn it had all come back to her.
It was late at night and Ruby was the only bodyguard on duty as she drove Senator Wishbourne home. They parked in front of the nineteenth-century brownstone in the upscale neighborhood in D.C., Ruby doing the usual check before unlocking the doors. Two men a block away walked in the other direction. No one else in sight except for a car driving toward them.
It seemed safe. They got out and walked across the sidewalk and up the three steps to the brownstone, the senator holding the keys in her hand and gripping a briefcase full of top secret documents in the other.
Ruby noticed the car s
lowing. Natural enough. It was a brand new Lexus, not out of place in this neighborhood. Nevertheless, she opened her windbreaker a little so it would be easier to draw her 9mm from its shoulder holster. A tree kept her from seeing the two men down the block.
The first sign something was truly wrong was when the senator cursed.
“The lock is blocked with something,” she grumbled.
Just then the car stopped and the driver leaped out, wielding a baseball bat. The sound of running feet told Ruby those two guys down the street were part of the ambush.
“Stay behind me!” Ruby shouted, positioning herself at the top of the steps.
The senator did as she was told. Ruby felt her tuck a hard, flat object into Ruby’s back pocket.
She didn’t have time to wonder what that was, because the man with the bat rushed them.
Ruby waited until he rushed in close, then whipped out the automatic. The man stopped in his tracks. The other two ran into sight and stopped too. For some reason they wore bandanas on their face and swimming goggles.
“Hands up!” Ruby ordered.
They did as they were told. The bat fell with a clatter on the pavement.
“Stay where you are. Senator, call the police.”
Senator Wishbourne rummaged in her purse for her phone.
Just then the door to the house opened. A hand reached out and yanked the senator inside.
Ruby whirled on this new threat, but before she could aim her gun she saw a can of pepper spray pointed at her face.
She ducked, closing her eyes, exhaling and turning.
That saved her from the worst. Even so, her face suddenly felt like it was on fire.
A kick took the gun right out of her hand.
She continued her turn, diving down the stairs at the unseen assailants she knew would be coming up.
Her fist connected with one. Ruby ducked, rolled, stood up, and opened her eyes.
She was now on the sidewalk, behind the two attackers on the steps and standing above the one she had knocked down. It was the guy with the bat. She had gotten well away from the cloud of pepper spray at the doorway. One eye flared with pain as a bit of the spray on her face got in her eye. In a moment it would close. Her lungs burned from the residual spray on her lips as she took her first breath. She knew the next few breaths would only make her weaker.