Chapter 23
Knuckles had not been overly thrilled when, during his game of chess with Sir Charles, the latter had suggested that Knuckles have some of his men dress themselves in feces, go on a wild vandalism spree the likes of which one only saw in ridiculous plays or heard of in ludicrous tall tales, and shout repeatedly that they were looking for Smokeless Green. It had seemed to Knuckles that perhaps Sir Charles was seeing just how far he could push Knuckles. Perhaps he had brought Knuckles into his lavish home just so he could drive the point home that he and Knuckles were on two very different planes and that when Sir Charles asked him to do something he was to do it, even if it seemed foolhardy through and through.
If he was trying to pull one over on Knuckles, this was something Knuckles was convinced he could show Sir Charles was a mistake, although he was hopeful not to have to, given that his instincts repeatedly told him despite the man’s gentile exterior he had a savage spirit and the physical prowess to unleash it.
“I’ll pay you $50,000 falons upfront and $50,000 falons once the job is completed. How you divvy it up between your men is your business, not mine. However, it will be in my sole discretion whether this job is done as spectacularly as it needs to be. That may seem a bit much to ask, but that’s why the first half is being paid upfront and the overall price is so generous. I’m looking for newspaper coverage. I want this to be the talk of the city at every dinner table, restaurant table, and bar stool. Do these terms sound reasonable to you?”
Knuckles found himself singularly grateful for his virtually perpetual scowl on his forehead because at this moment his eyes were wanting to bulge out of his skull. He was used to raking in a measly $30,000 falons per year after divvying out wages to all the people in his crew. Here, he was being offered more than three times that for a single job, and it wouldn’t have to be split up amongst any besides the ones actually participating in the job, something he figured could be done in about three groups of four. He did a little quick math in his head and figured that if he gave them $4,000 falons each that would still leave him with $50,000 falons roughly, which would be nearly double his yearly wage in a short time span.
Sir Charles eyed him closely and could tell he was analyzing the offer strictly on practical grounds and appeared to be liking the results, forehead scowl notwithstanding.
Rather than push Knuckles, Sir Charles proceeded to expose a caveat.
“There is another thing you should consider, Mr. Hathers, before making your final decision” (and the way he said the word “final” caused a brief chill to go down Knuckles’ spine, something that didn’t happen every day or even every year for that matter), “which is that were any of your associates to be detained that would be a matter of very serious concern. Due to my relationships in the political and law enforcement community, it wouldn’t take long for me to learn whether they were talking. If that were to happen, I believe they would become . . . liabilities.”
“My men don’t talk to cops, and especially not the ones I would choose for this job. But, you have my word, if any of them did, I would have them taken care of personally.”
“Of course,” Sir Charles began with an apologetic tone. Shrugging his shoulders and raising his eyebrows calmly, he added, “If you were to permanently solve the problem within twenty-four hours I don’t think I’d feel the need to intervene.”
Knuckles once again thanked heavens for the scowl that could survive the strongest urges to betray his internal emotions because once again he found his eyes wanting to bulge out of their sockets upon learning from Sir Charles what would be considered a suitable time frame for carrying out a murder of a suspect in state custody. Knuckles would have suggested something much longer—perhaps a week—and found himself grateful he had kept his mouth shut, rather than revealing his limited capabilities compared to those of this savage gentleman.
“If,” Sir Charles continued, “the problem were not fixed within twenty-four hours I would ensure it were done, but I would have to deduct $10,000 falons for each mouth I had to have silenced. If that amount exceeded $50,000 falons, then I guess we’d have a little debt issue to work out.”
Knuckles was glad Sir Charles said this matter-of-factly. He didn’t want to go to war with this man, but he wasn’t about to let himself be threatened by anybody.
Knuckles reached across the table with a hand extended. “It’ll be done within a week.”
Sir Charles looked at him in the eye closely and then shook his hand. He then took out a leather bag, handed it to Knuckles, and said, “Count it, if it pleases you.”
Knuckles didn’t want to flat-out insult Sir Charles, so he didn’t go through the $100 falon bills one by one, but he did poke around a bit, as this was more money than he had ever held in his hands at once. Once he was convinced there were $50,000 falons in the leather bag he was carrying, he closed it, looked at Sir Charles, and nodded approvingly.
“Many men in your position would have demanded they know the bigger picture. But that’s what I like so much about you, Mr. Hathers—you no doubt wonder about the bigger picture, but you content yourself with the information you need to know for the job at hand. That’s a good business quality to have, and I can assure you it is a mandatory one for any long-term business relationship I maintain. So, for now, let me just tell you that if your associates perform well on this project, you will most likely be getting a whole heck of a lot more than just the $50,000 falons I promised you.
“A whole new world of business is about to open, the likes of which this republic has never seen before. It is going to turn the world upside down and inside out. Stick with me, Mr. Hathers, and you’re going to become a wealthy man.”
Knuckles was no fool, and as soon as he saw the bag full of $100 falon bills he realized something much bigger had to be at stake in order for Sir Charles to be paying this kind of money for a gang of toughs to go wreck some stores. Hell, wrecking stores was something they did at least once every couple months with their existing “customers,” and for those who were still in need of extra convincing that it would be wise to pay him and his gang protection money, wrecking stores was at least a weekly occurrence.
Now, all of a sudden, Knuckles was going to be pocketing almost double a year’s pay after deducting for associate wages just to go do something that was part of their normal line of work. But this was different. They were used to going after businesses in parts of town policemen didn’t like to spend too much time in. This was going to be in a plush shopping district full of gentlemen and ladies. The police presence was sure to be higher. Thus, so was the risk.
So, he had to ask himself what Sir Charles or Sir Charles’ bosses—if he had bosses—had to gain from this. The thought occurred to Knuckles that perhaps the idea was to make the current business owners move out, due to fear, as a result of which new business owners—who would, no doubt, be associates of Sir Charles—could come in and take over. Knuckles didn’t waste too long analyzing it because he was more a man of action than thought. He also figured there were too many unknown variables for it to be worth his time looking into the bigger picture. After all, he didn’t know anything about business beyond his small slice of the town, although he intended to change that in a major way.
As for now, $50,000 falons and the promise of a second dose for a job well done seemed to him like a good enough reason to proceed with the job, and he figured he was going to have enough on his hands choosing the right men to do it. He knew if he screwed this up, he could kiss big contracts like this goodbye, and he would be doomed to working like a slave just to collect peanuts in protection money. This was an opportunity he wasn’t about to miss.