Baron said, ‘Oh?’ He walked across the room, stripping off his T-shirt. ‘What does he say?’
‘Says some people are going to rob this place.’
Baron stopped in the doorway. Beyond him was the gleaming tile of a bathroom. He looked back at Steuber. ‘What do you think?’
‘I can’t tell those types. Maybe it’s the truth, maybe not.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Dining room.’
‘All right.’ Baron nodded and went into the bathroom and shut the door. He stripped off the bathing trunks, took a fast shower, and went out the other door wrapped in a white terrycloth towel. Steuber had laid fresh clothing out on the bed. Baron dressed, lit a cigarette, studied himself in the mirror. He was pleased. He went out to the other room and Steuber opened the farther door for him.
On the way down the stairs Baron said, ‘What is this man’s name?’
‘Heenan, he says.’
‘Heenan.’ Baron smiled and shook his head. ‘I dislike the Irish,’ he said. ‘A sloppy dirty people. My only prejudice.’
He pushed open the door and went into the casino. It was barely three in the afternoon, so the casino was nearly empty. The few customers looked up with surprise when Baron walked apparently out of the wall, because the door was invisible on the casino side. Steuber’s bright idea, done as a surprise for Baron, his own little addition to the plans. Baron had tried to look pleased when Steuber first showed it to him, complete and invisible, but these occasional reminders of Steuber’s thickheadedness were something of a trial. It had never occurred to him that the casino might be full of customers sometime when Baron wanted to go up or downstairs. When Baron, as gently as possible, pointed it out to him, Steuber was chagrined, going around looking hangdog till Baron told him it was all right, it was actually a good gimmick, giving the customers an extra taste of the spice and adventure they were really coming to Cockaigne in search of.
In the dining room the Irishman was tucked away in an inconspicuous corner with two stickmen from the casino flanking him at the table. At Baron’s arrival and gesture they went away. Baron sat down across from the Irishman and Steuber sat at Baron’s right.
Baron said, ‘What’s this stupid story?’
The Irishman looked aggrieved. That’s what the breed did best, looked shifty and aggrieved. ‘It’s no stupid story,’ he said. He was heavy-set and very pale of skin, with very black hair. ‘It’s the truth,’ he said.
‘Some people are going to rob this island.’ Baron put contempt and scorn and total disbelief into his voice.
But now the Irishman looked truculent, the other expression his sort found habitual. ‘You don’t want to believe me,’ he said, ‘the hell with you.’
Steuber lightly slapped his face. ‘Don’t talk like that,’ he said.
The Irishman put his hand to his face, where the white skin was turning red in a design like fingers. His eyes widened and he said, ‘I didn’t come here for trouble, I don’t want trouble.’
Baron said, ‘How do you know these people are going to rob the island?’
‘They wanted me to go in with them, run the boat.’
‘But of course you were too honest for such a thing.’
‘I would of done it,’ the Irishman said truculently. ‘Only I wasn’t good enough for them.’
‘They changed their minds about you?’ Baron could see how it was possible, given this man.
‘Somebody tried to kill me,’ the Irishman said. ‘I went on home and somebody tried to kill me, and I don’t go for that.’
‘So you want revenge.’
‘It ought to be worth something to you, knowing about it in advance.’
Baron smiled. ‘You want money?’
‘You don’t need charity,’ the Irishman told him.
Steuber raised his heavy hand and held it where the Irishman could see it. ‘You watch your mouth,’ he said.
Baron said, ‘It’s all right, he doesn’t know any better. Who are these people who plan to rob me?’
‘There’s a guy named Parker, and one named Grofield, and one named Salsa. They’ll get somebody else to run the boat, I don’t know who.’
‘It’s just four of them?’
‘That’s all that’s doing the job. They got some kind of syndicate money behind them.’
‘Karns?’ Baron raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that moron Karns behind this?’
It would make sense. Karns and the organization he represented were unhappy about Baron’s existence independent of them. He was aware of that, had been for some time, but he had never considered what did it call itself? The Outfit, yes he had never considered the Outfit a serious threat.
And then there was more. The Irishman said, ‘They’re supposed to take you back to shore with them, turn you over to the Feds. If they do, the cops’ll leave them alone.’
‘What’s this? Are you sure of that?’
‘They told me so,’ the Irishman said.
