Ortega asked a few pertinent questions, scribbled some notes onto a pad. He proposed a fair amount for payment, and the man with the voice agreed. He hung up. Well, it looked as if Ortega was in for a busy week. Perhaps people were right about the economy coming back.
Ortega considered who to send on the job. A pack of the usual hooligans to be sure. Yes, Ortega was a firm believer in quantity over quality. He?d always found that a violent mob took care of 99.9 percent of all problems. But it might take something more exotic to impress the Voice. Ortega opened a bottom desk drawer and fished out an old Rolodex. The names and addresses he needed most frequently were in an electronic Blackberry, but Ortega was searching for a particular number, a number he hadn?t dialed in a long time. He found the number, picked up the phone, and paused. Hiring these peculiar killers would severely cut into his profits. He might even lose money on the deal. It would be worth it to get on the Voice?s good side. It might mean more business from the Voice in the long run. One occasionally had to throw one?s bread on the waters.
He dialed. It rang.
* * *
He was born Lee Goldberg in Sydney, Australia, but it had been many years since anyone had called him by that name. His stage name was Jack Sprat. He changed it after meeting the Fat Lady during a boardwalk carnival act in Atlantic City. Mavis was big and soft and beautiful, and Goldberg? now Sprat? fell in love.
They were married three months later, and the stage names were a no-brainer. Jack Sprat was five feet five inches tall, all spindly hard muscle and sinew, a bald head and a big nose that gave him the appearance of a vulture. His new bride, Mavis? who indeed could eat no lean? weighed in at 422 pounds.
They made the carnival circuit, state fairs, and sideshows.
Jack Sprat had a good act. He was a contortionist, could fit into little places and cracks and boxes, and could climb and jump like a tree frog. He?d used his skill for burglary back in Australia, had been pinched and served eighteen months in the pen. When they released him, he pulled another string of jobs and ended up back in prison seven months later, this time for a three-year stretch. When he got out this time, he decided he needed a chance and headed to America.
Now he?d been married to Mavis a dozen years, going from show to show, earning a living, sometimes a good one but often not. Sometimes the couple supplemented their income by breaking a few minor laws? robbery, burglary, murder. At first, Jack Sprat had been pleasantly surprised at Mavis?s willingness to go along with these endeavors. What a great gal.
Four years ago, everything changed.
Mavis wasn?t satisfied being the Fat Lady. She started lifting weights, transforming herself. It became an obsession, protein shakes and three tough workouts a day. She dropped to 360 pounds. Jack started to worry about the act. A Jack Sprat with a svelte wife just wouldn?t work. But Mavis didn?t get smaller. She got bigger, her legs like muscular tree trunks, arms like cannons, neck as thick as a Marine?s. And the steriods made her particularly aggressive, which is why Jack didn?t worry too much that his lovely bride was currently waist deep in the alligator tank.
She was going after one of the five-footers. The creatures knew by now to stay clear of her, but she grabbed one by the tail. It thrashed and splashed as she pulled it toward her. She?d been doing five shows a day at Dr. Weird?s Medicine Show, just a mile down the highway from Gatorland in Florida, tourists on their way back from Disney looking to squeeze just a little more out of their vacations. Mavis wrestled alligators. Jack contorted himself and threw knives at moving targets. He used to split apples off the heads of brave volunteers, but the insurance for that sort of thing was outrageous.
For a while, Mavis had put the apple on her head. She?d trusted Jack with the knives but eventually wanted a more active part in the act. Another reason for the muscles. Now she sometimes held Jack upside down by the ankles while he tossed knives at various objects. They?d tried a number of variations on the act, but nothing was as popular as Mavis wrestling the alligators.
Jack?s cell phone rang. He checked Mavis before answering. She had the animal in a headlock, the situation well in hand. He turned his back on the scene and answered the phone. ?Hello??
?Jack. It?s Louis Ortega.?
?Been a while, mate. I thought maybe you?d forgot about old Jack.?
?Never. I just haven?t had anything worthy of your talents.?
?Anything that pays is worthy,? Jack said.
?And how?s your wonderful wife??
?Mean,? Jack said. ?Let?s conclude the small talk.?
?Uh, yes. Can you get free a couple of days??
?If the price is right.?
