**************** CHAPTER FIVE
As ass reamings went, I'd grade this one only a C+, but then again I'd been called onto the carpet and screamed at by real professionals before back home. Numerous times. My old bosses at the Austin BMA could give these USA wankers some real management lessons in the art of attitude adjustment, but perhaps with me they'd just enjoyed a lot of prior practice. Back home I had the reputation of being a 'fuck-up' and was treated accordingly; here, I was sort of a visiting VIP, so the velvet gloves stayed on. It didn't hurt that we had more or less covered our ass on paper with our written report... it. I might have been the smartest thing that we'd done so far.
Just so that it was quite crystal clear that we were on the bosses' shit-list, Probert made us sit and wait in his office for him for nearly an hour, just so we'd know that we weren't quite important enough for him to make a priority of his time for. We stayed quiet, as we were fairly sure there was a recorder active in the room, so we kept our remarks to each other vague; we remarked on the weather and discussed whether the Chicago History Museum or the Field Museum would be the most interesting to visit on Saturday tomorrow. The time was also useful for semi-overtly searching over the topmost contents of his desk, and I can read upside down with the best of them, no magic was even remotely necessary. Unfortunately, I didn't see anything the slightest bit juicy or even relevant. Probert was the sort of boss that liked his worker drones to generate lots of useless paperwork to keep them busy, and then he'd take his dear sweet time even reviewing, let alone later filing their reports. He had a junky Magi-Dupe brand copier on a credenza next to his desk that had to be at least thirty years old, even by US standards. I killed twenty minutes of waiting time trying to get the damned machine to make a single clean readable copy of one of our witness statements but eventually I gave up. I was almost finally bored enough to get up and try this time to photocopy my ass when Mason Probert finally arrived.
He bitched at us for nearly a full hour, but most of it was old material, given as if by rote, rather than any actual genuine enthusiasm. We got the intended point rather quickly; he was 'disappointed' in us. When Bel eventually managed to pipe in her two cents, she assured him that we had stayed working on his holy and incarnate Action List like good boys and girls... and would continue to do so. Well, I did notice that her fingers were crossed. Eventually he believed her and we were admonished to go forth once again and sin no more.
Since we didn't have a single worthwhile lead left, it was going to be hard to be naughty... but we were determined to give it a try!
*************
For lack of any better ideas, we spent the rest of the morning back humping the non-suspects on the old boy's Action List, hoping for lightning to strike twice and find another lead we could exploit, but it wasn't looking promising. Each of the minor thugs could hardly refrain from smirking, as each had been expecting our visit, but still it was apparent to me that they didn't seem quite as happy to see us as their friends had been previously. This made us sure that another round of fresh warnings had been given to each and every one of them. Even charm spells weren't cutting through the very prevalent miasma of fear. The word had gone out -- telling us the 'truth' would mean far worse things than just another mindwipe.
Frankly, my mood was in the pits. My investigation was now going nowhere and every time I looked into Bel's face my mind instead recalled the memory of her and Janice passionately embracing and kissing. Try as I might, I just couldn't get my brain kicked properly into gear today!
For lack of any better ideas, and with more than a hint of desperation, Bel took me for a late lunch to a noted south central Italian restaurant that she admitted was her usual underworld connection spot. The food I had to admit was good, but today our timing couldn't have been any better. After a brief private discussion with one of the staff, Bel returned back to our table with a smile. Sebestyen Dénes, probably the top Chicago mob boss, was expected a bit later this afternoon and he, or one of his lieutenants could probably spare a minute for us. Her message requesting a meeting had been received!
I still found the entire idea of 'organized crime' fairly laughable. Sure, Texas and the GWA had professional criminals, what place didn't? The part that I found amusing was the idea that here it was all nearly out in the open and utterly and boldly commonplace. Crime here had gone so professional it was almost legitimate. The laws up here made doing nearly
any
sort of business impractical and rather immoral, so nearly everyone had to work in the shadows with unsavory people upon occasion just to get anything done. Need some completely legitimate merchandise shipped interstate? You could pay a unionized trucker and wait at least a month or two and enjoy nearly 50% pilferage of the goods, or pay extra to a well organized gang that would get the job done swiftly and securely. Most would prefer and choose the gang. As for the police and other law enforcement, they were only a minimal concern. Since nearly everything was technically illegal, the police had to be relatively selective over what laws were going to be actively enforced... and nearly everyone at some point needed to pick a side. Even Bel readily admitted that to even hope to do her job, to get the local information she sometimes needed, she had been rather forced to commit herself to picking a side amongst the various Chicago mob elements. Everyone in government service had, more or less. In Chicago there was little room for neutrals or folks who just wanted to go their own way.
It wasn't hard to kill the next two and half hours while waiting in the restaurant. We ordered endless baskets of warm bread, a couple of bottles of wine, and an apparently endless selection of goodies from the deserts cart. Sean, invisibly present as always, quite outdid himself. He wasn't much for red wine, and apparently he was keeping himself quite amused sampling the harder stuff kept behind the bar, for which he had a nearly unlimited gullet, but I discovered to my amusement and eventual dismay that he also had discovered a fondness for cheesecake. Bel and I ordered some, and enjoyed ours, but new fresh plates kept arriving... and arriving... and mysteriously disappearing. Worse, after an untold amount of pilfered Limoncello, I could start to hear increasingly audible giggling and 'om nom' sounds as entire rounds of cheesecake began to disappear.
'That wouldn't be your stomach giggling, would it?" Bel inquired, giving me a rather sharp concentrated look. She was a smart woman and Sean's antics were becoming obviously apparent.
"I'd prefer to admit to it, but I'm not at all sure I could be convincing. Perhaps they've got a resident gremlin?" If you can't convince, then confound.
