you what ?"
"What happened to them. In the Quiebra Grande ." He repeated all that the professor had said to him. At the end of it, Tracy burst into fits of laughter.
"Sociology? He's studied sociology all right. From the ground up. Job, we call him professor, because he likes that, and he's got all those books and he talks so funny. But he's no professor, never has been. Way I heard it he's been right here in the city for forty years."
"Not teaching?"
"Not teaching, 'less you count pimping as teaching. And Miss Magnolia, she only sold one thing in her whole life—and it's sure not real estate." She laughed again. "Don't you believe two words the old prof tells you, because one of'em will be made-up. That man, he's got more imagination inside him than he's got bourbon. He just loves to talk." She shook her head. "Real estate!"
"But he didn't make up the Quiebra Grande ."
"No, he didn't. Nobody has a mind diseased enough for that."
She went out giggling. Job sat with his face burning. He didn't so much mind what the professor had done, inventing a glorious past for himself. Job had had thoughts like that himself at Cloak House, when he imagined his real mother and father who would one day come to find him. What he hated was the idea that Tracy would tell the others how gullible he was, and they would laugh at him behind his back.
They would, too. He had heard them mocking Professor Buckler, when he came out with one of his extra-philosophical comments or poetic phrases.
Job sat with his coat and gloves on. He was too hot, but he wanted to go before anyone else came. He was not looking forward to Tracy's return. To his surprise, though, it was Miss Magnolia herself who arrived ten minutes later. Job's errands were mostly run for the professor, and for the rest it was Tracy or Rosita who brought instructions.
Miss Magnolia was frowning—nowadays she always seemed to be frowning—and she hardly looked at Job. Her attention was on the square box she was holding. "Now listen to me real careful. This isn't the typical drop-off, to the usual places. Do you know the Mall Compound?"
"I know where it is. I've never been inside."
"You won't need to go inside. Go to the northeast corner of the protection zone—that's the corner nearest here. Go in just far enough to trigger the alarm system. You know what that is? All right. You wait, until a man in a uniform comes. Don't worry about the warning message, the defense system will be turned off for you. Stay right where you are at the edge of the protection zone, let him come to you."
She paused, as Tracy came hurrying into the kitchen. "Well?"
"You were right." Tracy's manner had changed. She was pale and nervous. "It was Susie. Tromp saw her leave. On foot. She went east."
"With the shipment?" Miss Magnolia's face was like painted stone.
"I don't know. Tromp didn't see it, but Susie was carrying a cloth bag."
"She has it. She must have. Don't worry, I'll take care of her later. Stupid bitch. I have to get another batch over there right now, before their party starts. It won't be easy." She turned to Job. Her face frightened him. "A man in a blue uniform, with a peaked cap. Got that?"
"Will he come from inside the Compound?"
"Never you mind where he comes from. Just wait for him."
"You're sending him to the Compound ?" Tracy's lower lip drooped in shock.
"Yeah." Miss Magnolia gave Tracy a furious glare. "Shut your yap, and stay out of things."
"But there's been patrols over there, the past week. Vince hasn't called me once, and Toria said the Compound—"
"I said, shut your big yap. Don't you know who the customer is for this one? We got clients here in fifteen minutes, every girl booked, and I'm late for this delivery. If we don't give service we'll all be out on the street. You'll be peddling your tight little ass to some rot-cock basura. You want that? Then shut up." She held the square box out to Job. "Here. Keep it inside your coat. It's got a waterproof cover,
"What happened to them. In the Quiebra Grande ." He repeated all that the professor had said to him. At the end of it, Tracy burst into fits of laughter.
"Sociology? He's studied sociology all right. From the ground up. Job, we call him professor, because he likes that, and he's got all those books and he talks so funny. But he's no professor, never has been. Way I heard it he's been right here in the city for forty years."
"Not teaching?"
"Not teaching, 'less you count pimping as teaching. And Miss Magnolia, she only sold one thing in her whole life—and it's sure not real estate." She laughed again. "Don't you believe two words the old prof tells you, because one of'em will be made-up. That man, he's got more imagination inside him than he's got bourbon. He just loves to talk." She shook her head. "Real estate!"
"But he didn't make up the Quiebra Grande ."
"No, he didn't. Nobody has a mind diseased enough for that."
She went out giggling. Job sat with his face burning. He didn't so much mind what the professor had done, inventing a glorious past for himself. Job had had thoughts like that himself at Cloak House, when he imagined his real mother and father who would one day come to find him. What he hated was the idea that Tracy would tell the others how gullible he was, and they would laugh at him behind his back.
They would, too. He had heard them mocking Professor Buckler, when he came out with one of his extra-philosophical comments or poetic phrases.
Job sat with his coat and gloves on. He was too hot, but he wanted to go before anyone else came. He was not looking forward to Tracy's return. To his surprise, though, it was Miss Magnolia herself who arrived ten minutes later. Job's errands were mostly run for the professor, and for the rest it was Tracy or Rosita who brought instructions.
Miss Magnolia was frowning—nowadays she always seemed to be frowning—and she hardly looked at Job. Her attention was on the square box she was holding. "Now listen to me real careful. This isn't the typical drop-off, to the usual places. Do you know the Mall Compound?"
"I know where it is. I've never been inside."
"You won't need to go inside. Go to the northeast corner of the protection zone—that's the corner nearest here. Go in just far enough to trigger the alarm system. You know what that is? All right. You wait, until a man in a uniform comes. Don't worry about the warning message, the defense system will be turned off for you. Stay right where you are at the edge of the protection zone, let him come to you."
She paused, as Tracy came hurrying into the kitchen. "Well?"
"You were right." Tracy's manner had changed. She was pale and nervous. "It was Susie. Tromp saw her leave. On foot. She went east."
"With the shipment?" Miss Magnolia's face was like painted stone.
"I don't know. Tromp didn't see it, but Susie was carrying a cloth bag."
"She has it. She must have. Don't worry, I'll take care of her later. Stupid bitch. I have to get another batch over there right now, before their party starts. It won't be easy." She turned to Job. Her face frightened him. "A man in a blue uniform, with a peaked cap. Got that?"
"Will he come from inside the Compound?"
"Never you mind where he comes from. Just wait for him."
"You're sending him to the Compound ?" Tracy's lower lip drooped in shock.
"Yeah." Miss Magnolia gave Tracy a furious glare. "Shut your yap, and stay out of things."
"But there's been patrols over there, the past week. Vince hasn't called me once, and Toria said the Compound—"
"I said, shut your big yap. Don't you know who the customer is for this one? We got clients here in fifteen minutes, every girl booked, and I'm late for this delivery. If we don't give service we'll all be out on the street. You'll be peddling your tight little ass to some rot-cock basura. You want that? Then shut up." She held the square box out to Job. "Here. Keep it inside your coat. It's got a waterproof cover,
Similar Books
