indirectly called you a fool?”
Nicco’s fist drove into my stomach. I started to double over, but the Arms hauled back on my shoulders, arresting the movement. I sat there, gulping for air, my body trying to convulse in on itself. I decided that if I threw up, I was going to aim for Nicco’s shoes.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Nicco, straightening up. “And?”
He waited while I gasped and gagged. Finally, when I could move enough air to talk, I said, “And because I didn’t answer him the first time you told me to.”
“The first two times I told you,” corrected Nicco. “You don’t want to go for three.”
I nodded weakly and took a deep, ragged breath. There was definitely something going on here—Nicco might be a violent bastard, but he didn’t usually knock me around for arguing with him. Something was bothering him.
I blinked and tried to clear my head. Between the pain and my lack of sleep, I wasn’t exactly putting the pieces together as well as I might.
“It’s all about how Ten Ways works,” I said, trying to buy some time. My voice came out far steadier than I expected. I credited the ahrami. “The place is a hole. The cordon’s full of thugs and petty bosses. Almost every one of them is making a move at some time or another. It’s how a person establishes himself, and it’s how you get out. If you make enough things happen, or pull off a big enough dodge, you can use it to leverage your way into better things.
“That’s what’s happening here,” I said. “Someone’s trying to look tough by seeing how far he can push you in the cordon. We’re not exactly big in Ten Ways, so we’re a prime target. Send in a couple of Cutters, have them hand out some bruises, maybe make a corpse or two, and the Kin down there will get the message.”
“I already sent people,” snarled Nicco.
“Good,” I said.
“They didn’t come back.”
“Oh.”
Nicco walked over and sat down behind his desk. “Tell him,” he said to Rambles.
“Three Cutters went in,” said Rambles. “None came out. That was two days ago. Last night we sent two Arms in with four more Cutters. One of the Arms staggered out this morning, cut up. He died an hour later.”
I whistled softly. The Cutters I could almost see. They were decent enforcers, but you could find freelance toughs who were just as good if you looked. Arms, though, were another matter. They were the best the Kin had to offer, the select muscle in an organization. For a boss like Nicco to lose two Arms and twice as many Cutters in a pissant cordon like Ten Ways wasn’t just a bad sign—it was downright embarrassing.
Now I understood why Nicco wasn’t happy. He needed to pay back whoever was responsible, fast, or risk losing face among the Kin. Lose enough, and he might find other Upright Men sniffing around his turf, deciding which portions they could carve off for themselves. Top dogs didn’t stay on top in this business if they let the smaller dogs get away with pissing on them.
“I hadn’t heard any of this yet,” I said, “which is good.” Both men stared at me. “Not hearing anything means our people have been able to keep it quiet. That gives us some breathing room.”
“I don’t give a crap about ‘breathing room,’ ” said Nicco. “If people are complaining on the street, then someone is talking.” He scowled at Rambles. “That’s not supposed to be happening.”
Rambles shrugged, and suddenly I understood. Rambles had been put in charge of Ten Ways. I almost laughed out loud. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather see consigned to that gutter of a territory.
Nicco looked over at me. “What the fuck are you grinning at?”
“Uh . . . ” I said.
“You walk in two days late, you argue, you give me information I needed to know yesterday, and then you sit there smiling?”
“Well . . .”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I did.
Nicco smeared a scrap of bread through the drippings on the plate and put it
Nicco’s fist drove into my stomach. I started to double over, but the Arms hauled back on my shoulders, arresting the movement. I sat there, gulping for air, my body trying to convulse in on itself. I decided that if I threw up, I was going to aim for Nicco’s shoes.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Nicco, straightening up. “And?”
He waited while I gasped and gagged. Finally, when I could move enough air to talk, I said, “And because I didn’t answer him the first time you told me to.”
“The first two times I told you,” corrected Nicco. “You don’t want to go for three.”
I nodded weakly and took a deep, ragged breath. There was definitely something going on here—Nicco might be a violent bastard, but he didn’t usually knock me around for arguing with him. Something was bothering him.
I blinked and tried to clear my head. Between the pain and my lack of sleep, I wasn’t exactly putting the pieces together as well as I might.
“It’s all about how Ten Ways works,” I said, trying to buy some time. My voice came out far steadier than I expected. I credited the ahrami. “The place is a hole. The cordon’s full of thugs and petty bosses. Almost every one of them is making a move at some time or another. It’s how a person establishes himself, and it’s how you get out. If you make enough things happen, or pull off a big enough dodge, you can use it to leverage your way into better things.
“That’s what’s happening here,” I said. “Someone’s trying to look tough by seeing how far he can push you in the cordon. We’re not exactly big in Ten Ways, so we’re a prime target. Send in a couple of Cutters, have them hand out some bruises, maybe make a corpse or two, and the Kin down there will get the message.”
“I already sent people,” snarled Nicco.
“Good,” I said.
“They didn’t come back.”
“Oh.”
Nicco walked over and sat down behind his desk. “Tell him,” he said to Rambles.
“Three Cutters went in,” said Rambles. “None came out. That was two days ago. Last night we sent two Arms in with four more Cutters. One of the Arms staggered out this morning, cut up. He died an hour later.”
I whistled softly. The Cutters I could almost see. They were decent enforcers, but you could find freelance toughs who were just as good if you looked. Arms, though, were another matter. They were the best the Kin had to offer, the select muscle in an organization. For a boss like Nicco to lose two Arms and twice as many Cutters in a pissant cordon like Ten Ways wasn’t just a bad sign—it was downright embarrassing.
Now I understood why Nicco wasn’t happy. He needed to pay back whoever was responsible, fast, or risk losing face among the Kin. Lose enough, and he might find other Upright Men sniffing around his turf, deciding which portions they could carve off for themselves. Top dogs didn’t stay on top in this business if they let the smaller dogs get away with pissing on them.
“I hadn’t heard any of this yet,” I said, “which is good.” Both men stared at me. “Not hearing anything means our people have been able to keep it quiet. That gives us some breathing room.”
“I don’t give a crap about ‘breathing room,’ ” said Nicco. “If people are complaining on the street, then someone is talking.” He scowled at Rambles. “That’s not supposed to be happening.”
Rambles shrugged, and suddenly I understood. Rambles had been put in charge of Ten Ways. I almost laughed out loud. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather see consigned to that gutter of a territory.
Nicco looked over at me. “What the fuck are you grinning at?”
“Uh . . . ” I said.
“You walk in two days late, you argue, you give me information I needed to know yesterday, and then you sit there smiling?”
“Well . . .”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I did.
Nicco smeared a scrap of bread through the drippings on the plate and put it
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