“Do?”
“Jesus H. Christ.” He stared. His eyes were rheumy close to, set small into putty features. “You think N’York’s a pushover? That it?”
“Well, actually —”
“You listen up, dumbo.” He leant forward to prod. “Jennie passes word, okay we got to. But you’re shit here, right?”
The pause seemed long to me, but maybe it was infinitesimal. He took my silence as meekness. He was nearly right.
Ash fell onto his waistcoat. He looked shop soiled. It crossed my mind that maybe Jim Bethune was less than superb at running the antiques side of things for the Aquilinas and their stake in the Game. Maybe I was here as a stopgap? Catalyst?
“We raise our part of the stake, Lovejoy. From antiques. You heard antiques?” His flab oscillated with merriment, settled as the wheezes died. “We take a cut of selected prices from the auction houses. We’re currently adding a national museum to our contributions…” More splutters of amusement. “… They start contributing next week. In time for any little card playing we might wanta do.”
I waited for the jubilation to lessen. “How do you make them chip in?”
His eyes were beads through a smoke veil.
“This dumbo’s going to raise our ante, Orly?”
Orly smiled weakly.
Bethune spoke quite kindly, as if he’d realized at last that I was no threat.
“We make a bomb threat against a museum, right? It’s glad to pay a little, stop them bad old bombs. Same with auction houses. It’s regular money.”
“You accept payment how?”
His pleasantry evaporated. “That’s no concern of yours, boy, and don’t you —”
He stubbed his cigar, lit a fresh one from a humidor younger than himself. In an antiques warehouse? But I was all attention to this mastermind, and clearly listening with nothing less than total admiration.
“Pay? Okay. They see Bethune’s gets antiques to the value of the protection money. I sell, and that forms the stake, see? It’s simple, easy.”
“That’s amazing, Mr Bethune!” I exclaimed. “Don’t they go to the police?”
I felt Orly stir, as if he suspected pretence.
“Police, Lovejoy?” Bethune grinned, charred teeth sausaged in two rolls of pink blubber. “We got friends there.”
I warned myself not to overdo it. “But suppose this museum doesn’t pay up?”
He was amused at my naivety. “Why, a little fire in their basement. Nothing serious.”
“Marvellous, Mr Bethune,” I said, clearly thrilled. “Well, thank you for explaining. Is there anything you want me to do? I’m ready to help.”
He smirked at the very thought. “Not yet, Lovejoy. I’ll be sure and let you know.”
“Orly. Anything else to add?” I asked meekly.
He was puzzled, but a little wary. “No. Jim’s covered it all.”
I rose, smiled, said thanks. “Then I’d better report in. Can I use your phone, Mr Bethune?”
There was one on the wall nearby. I rang the number, got the girl with the mechanical voice.
“Lovejoy. Urgent for Mrs. Aquilina, please.”
Waiting to be connected, I smiled at Bethune, who was telling Orly about some joker who’d wanted to negotiate a reduction in the protection fee. Fatty was very, very relieved I’d proved such a mug.
“Gina? Lovejoy. I’ve just finished with Mr Bethune. Yes, Orly’s here.” I listened, nodding as she asked if everything was satisfactory. “Yes, definitely. Mr Bethune’s done a perfectly neat job. Pleasing himself. He’s a dud. Replace him forthwith. Brains of a rocking horse.”
The line was silent a moment. Gina asked, “Can he hear this?”
“Yes. Bethune’s right here.” I looked back. Bethune’s complexion had gone muddy, his eyes currants in plaster. I gave attention to the phone. “Still there, love?”
“That was unwise, Lovejoy. You should have —”
“No orders in antiques, love. Anything else, I’ll hear and obey. This cret’s ripping you off. He’s taking a double cut, first on the levy, then on the antiques’ selling price. He’s hiving.”
“Hiving?”
“Taking a toll on every transaction. Your income’s less than half what it should be. Before you ask, no, he’s not told me the figures.”
“What action do you recommend, Lovejoy?”
“Do I get paid this time?”
She got the joke. “No. You’re being well paid—in dollars. Jennie’s fixed your account today. You’ll be pleasantly
