Maggie followed Larson at a distance as he herded the men up Bering Hill and threw them in Adak's little jail.
"Oh, Joe, Oh Joe," she muttered to herself as she made her way up the hill.
Like her mother, it helped to talk to herself. "You've been doing so good, Joe.
You just have to keep control."
She stopped outside the jail.
What should she do now?
The door opened and Larson stood there.
"What the fuck do you want, fat lady?
Oh, you're the pig's wife."
"Yes, I…I feed the men in prison."
"So feed them and bring something real good for me or whoever's on guard duty."
"Can I … I see my husband now?"
"Go get the food, fat lady."
Maggie hurried back to her apartment.
How could she help Joe?
She remembered those visits before there was any news of this Adak prison.
How he gritted his teeth, how he blinked constantly, how he kept looking behind himself, how he twitched and jerked.
Animals in the zoo looked more relaxed than he did.
Would this happen again now that he was behind bars?
She had to think of something.
She walked back to her apartment, planning her menu as she went. There was the guard, Joe, Frank, Gilmore, Nelson and Doc.
They hadn't locked up Hanna, but they told her to take care of their men who were wounded or suffering from hypothermia.
What about the guard?
Larson was right about that - the better the meal for the guard, the more time she'd have with her Joe.
Poor Sam Wong, killed in the battle.
Poor Jeannie Dickinson.
She had lost her mother, now her father.
Maggie hoped she was okay with Latisha at the cottages on Finger Bay.
At her apartment, Maggie made two sandwiches for everyone and three for Joe.
She made them carefully as she always did.
In Joe's sandwich - double cheese, double onions - she folded in a little note:
I love you, Joe.
I'm so proud of you.
You are a really good policeman.
She looked around her apartment for anything else she might include.
Should she try to slip a knife into her basket? No, they would check for that.
A candle, a little tablecloth for the guard?
Yes.
How about the little bottle of whiskey she and Joe had been saving for their first night in their own house?
Yes, she would take that and give it to the guard and hope it got him drunk.
When she returned to the jail, it was about 4 PM.
Just as she walked up to the jail, The Duke approached the building with another man.
The Duke motioned for her to go in.
She did, but immediately went to a corner out of the way and put her basket down.
Joe had told her that the Duke, like Larson, was a dangerous man.
All of the men were in one cell and the other three cells were empty.
A terrible bathroom smell permeated the building.
The little toilet in the one cell was obviously full.
"Larson, you're relieved," the Duke said.
"I'm putting 'The Dummy,' Mr. Thomas Welch,
on guard duty.
He owes me for wiping out half my men.
Go get some sleep."
Larson got up and stretched.
"Hey, fat lady, I'm kinda hungry.
What's you got in that basket?"
Terror went through Maggie.
What if he got the sandwiches with the note for Joe?
She quickly grabbed two sandwiches, not Joe's.
"Here you are, Mr. Larson."
As Larson took the sandwiches with one hand, he groped her breast with the other.
"Hey, look, Mr. Pig Britt, I got my hand on your fat wife's tits."
Joe grabbed the bars of his cell and shook them.
"Leave her alone," he yelled.
Maggie felt violated, dirty like she did when old man Housman made her clean the men's bathroom in the shipping department.
No, this was worse, she thought.
She shrunk back into the corner and cried.
Larson laughed at Joe.
"Hey, look at the animal in the cage. But don't worry, Britt. Your bitch is just a big sea lion.
I'm gonna hunt down that black piece of ass, Gilmore's woman.
I'm going now, Duke."
Poor Latisha. Maggie knew she had to do something.
The Duke stood in front of Gilmore.
"Listen, Gilmore, I want to know who that girl at your club is, the one who's got the hots for me?"
Maggie watched Gilmore try to talk privately to the Duke.
Gilmore had a very bad cold and had lost his voice, so he could only talk in a hoarse whisper, but she heard everything he said.
She didn't trust him and Joe had warned her about him. "Duke, I hate to tell you this," Gilmore began,
"but
these guys are planning to break out of here tonight.
They know the women at my club want to have a big party for you and they figure all your men will attend the party."
The Duke laughed.
"The Dummy - Welch - he'll
be here.
Now what's this about the woman at your club, Gilmore?"
"Right.
I'd like to introduce you."
"You're in jail"
"So let me out.
I'm on your side, Duke.
I just told you what their plans were."
"True, but you're a crafty bastard."
What an evil man Gilmore was, Maggie thought.
Get himself out of jail and not worry about the others.
"How about we do it the white collar way?" Gilmore said.
"I get the party organized at the Sea Otter and I introduce you, then you lock me up here for the night."
The Duke signaled for Welch to let Gilmore out.
"And you, too, Nelson.
I want running water and flush toilets for me and my wife."
Nelson didn't move.
"No.
I already told you.
You'll get your plumbing when it's your turn."
Welch had the door open to let Gilmore out.
The Duke reached in and grabbed Nelson, then told Welch to lock the door.
Maggie watched in horror as The Duke had Welch hold Nelson.
The Duke beat him and kicked him several times.
Then he locked Nelson by himself in one of the empty cells.
"Don't feed this one," the Duke said.
Gilmore and the Duke left together.
She looked across the room at her Joe still clutching the bars.
This was terrible.
Doc called out to Welch as soon as the Duke left. "Can you just come a little closer, Mr. Welch.
That splotch on your face, I think it's Aleutian disease."
"What splotch?"
"The one on your face."
Welch went into the little bathroom to look in the mirror.
Joe pointed to her basket.
"Bid for the sandwiches," he said in a loud whisper.
"Bid for them."
Maggie felt terribly confused.
What did he mean?
Welch came out of the bathroom and sat down at the guard's desk.
"You're full of shit, Doc.
Come on, fat lady, serve up the lunch."
Maggie spread the tablecloth for the guard, lit the candle, put two nice looking sandwiches on a plate and then pulled out the bottle of whiskey.
"This is for you, Mr. Welch."
She poured him a generous drink in a glass she had brought and then left the bottle on his desk. Welch, imitating Larson, grabbed her ass with one hand and her breast with the other.
"Hey, Mr. Pig Britt, take a look at this. God, she's fat."
Joe clutched the bars.
"I'll kill you, Welch."
Maggie turned to feed the men, tears running down her face.
How humiliating to be treated this way.
She picked one of Joe's sandwiches out of her basket, not the one with the note and stepped over to the cell to give it to him.
"$2.50," Doc said.
"$4.00," Frank said.
"$8.00," Joe said.
"Fuck," Doc said.
"Give it to Joe."
Maggie was terribly confused. She handed the sandwich to Joe and he gave her $8.00. What was going on?
She took another sandwich out of her basket and the same thing happened, but this time Frank won the bidding at $7.00.
"What are you motherfuckers doing?" Welch asked, while pouring himself another belt of whiskey.
"Didn't Larson tell you?" Frank said.
"We bid on the food and you keep the money."
Welch laughed and took a big swig of whiskey.
"So raise the bidding, fat lady."
Maggie didn't know what it was about, but if her Joe and Frank were for it, she was, too.
"My next sandwich," she said, "is a beautifully crafted combination of lettuce, mustard and two forms of cheese, swiss and cheddar.
The man who wins this has some mighty fine eating ahead."
Nelson won this bid at $15.00 and Welch said nothing when she gave him the sandwich, despite the Duke's orders not to feed him.
Maggie handed over the money she had collected so far to Welch.
"Fuck, you guys," Doc said.
"I ain't won nothing yet.
Go easy."
But the bidding went up to $18.50, at which point Doc won it.
When Maggie put her hand in through the bars to take the money, Doc shook his head and made a motion with his finger in his eye, that she should cry.
"Hey, Doc, pay her," Frank said loud enough for Welch to hear.
"Yeah, " Joe said, "fair is fair.
You got the money right there in your hand."
Maggie looked at the men and then went up to Welch's desk.
She pointed to Doc and whined.
"He won't pay me."
"Pay her," Welch ordered.
"Shove your whiskey bottle up your ass, Welch.
I ain't payin' for
food."
Welch got up and stepped in front of the cell.
He reached in for the money.
The second he did, Joe grabbed him, spun him around and locked his throat against the bars with his massive arm.
"The keys, Maggie," Frank said.
She got the keys from the desk and gave them to Frank.
Joe still had Welch by the throat.
The man's
face was turning red.
"Grab my wife, will you?" Joe muttered through his teeth.
"Enough, Joe," Frank said.
"Let him go," Maggie said.
Joe's face vibrated with rage and intensity.
He was an animal on the attack.
Then he glanced at Maggie and slowly he eased his grip on Welch.
The man gasped for air and Frank put him in a cell.
Maggie hugged Joe.
"Oh, Joe, you've done so very, very well.
You didn't kill him.
He's just, he's just…"
"I know.
A dummy," Joe finished her sentence.
Frank was putting on his parka.
"I need a rifle, Joe. I've got to find Latisha."
"So, where's this fuckin' hot woman, Gilmore?"
It felt good to walk back into the Sea Otter despite the irritant of Duke Jenkins. On one side was the auditorium where the Sea Otters danced, on the other side was his office and his round-the-clock bar.
This was his home, his enterprise, his little hunk of the real world he had brought to Adak.
Over the past twenty-four hours Gilmore wasn't sure he'd ever see it again.
The Duke and the williwaw and hypothermia - Doc said if it hadn't been for Villa, he wouldn't have made it. He wanted to touch the walls and open his door and sit at his desk, but
he was still bound, still the Duke's prisoner.
The Duke and his five goons, however, were a routine problem that would soon be solved.
Villa was the real long-range problem.
"Untie me, so I can get her for you."
"Fuck, no."
"Okay, then let's go into my office and you turn on the PA system."
"Sure, Gilmore, except it's going to become my office."
"Whatever."
In the office they switched on the PA system and held it up to Gilmore's mouth.
God, he hoped Tiger was here.
She had lived at the Sea Otter since her husband was killed. Last night there were probably some good paying customers from the new prisoners - they weren't all from Florence, Colorado.
"Any of you women, there are six sterling gentlemen waiting for you," Gilmore began.
"Tiger, you especially come to the front.
There's a sterling fellow here who wants to meet you."
The Duke switched off the PA.
"Make that four girls, Gilmore.
Two of these guys are going to watch my room while me and this Tiger - hell, if she's anything like Saturday, she'll be crying for more. Say what is this sterling word?
You a faggot or something?"
Saturday Phillips!
Yes, that's what was going to happen to the Duke.
Gilmore looked around at the Duke and his men, all standing around looking macho, all imitating prison guards with him as their prisoner. Saturday could flatten all this pork with one swipe of her arm.
She would mold the Duke to her liking
-
or put him in the hospital.
A few minutes later five women and Tiger showed up.
Gilmore introduced everyone and said that two men were going to stand guard.
"But Shelley and Sara, you can talk to these sterling men and when the Duke gives the okay, maybe you can take them for a little romp.
That okay, Duke?"
The Duke was smiling big by this time.
Tiger was living up to her name, pawing all over him. "Oh, Gilmore, he's even more sterling close up," she purred.
"Fuck that sterling word," Duke murmured and then
ordered Gilmore to be tied to the radiator in his office.
Gilmore knew it wouldn't be for long -
Tiger and the others had got the message. He guessed they didn't want the Duke's version of brutality anymore than he did.
Everyone left and Gilmore looked out the window at the thick, soupy fog that blanked out the entire world.
He turned his gaze back into his office.
On his desk a picture of Latisha.
Well, their marriage was strong.
It would survive her little infatuation with Villa. He'd had his little flings, true enough, the latest being with Tiger.
Latisha would see that Villa's ideas were impossible.
You don't treat the scum of the earth with respect.
On his desk two folders sat open on either side of his writing pad.
Firewood and
Bank.
The bank idea was really great.
Why hadn't he thought of it before?
Anybody who wanted to start a business or build a house or buy a car would have to come to him.
It was everything he'd ever wanted from the rackets and it was all perfectly legal.
Loans at 14 percent, savings accounts at 5 percent.
All he had to do was work his way around Villa.
How many votes could he count on in the council?
Let's see, there was….
*
*
*
God, this is going to go good, Duke thought as he closed the door on one of Gilmore's bordello rooms. Tiger had been purrin' and pattin' all the way down the hall.
Pink curtains hung from the windows and a big mirror covered one wall.
The Duke noticed a mirror on the ceiling over the pink-covered bed.
The bed had an iron-barred head to it, also painted pink.
Unlike most other rooms the Duke had been in on Adak, this one smelled, not of must and mildew, but of incense and perfume.
As soon as he closed the door, Tiger threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, wet and wild.
"You're a real turn-on, Duke.
Such a man."
He smiled and felt his member pulsate with excitement.
She reached down and stroked his penis.
"Oh my, you are a big fellow, aren't you?"
"Fuckin' right."
But this time he was not going to make any mistakes.
Check the bed, check her body. Look for hidden knifes, weapons of any kind.
"Want a drink, Duke?
Something to get the engine started?
Course your engine is already going."
He wouldn't be fooled.
He'd let her pour the drinks and then switch them. Duke sucked in a big breath that expanded his chest.
"Sure," he said.
This was going to go good.
She poured the drinks and offered him one.
He took hers instead, but it didn't seem to bother her so he relaxed.
"That's some chest," she said.
"How about you take your shirt off so I can see?"
No.
Not yet.
He'd make her undress fully and he'd check the bed thoroughly before he took one stitch of his clothing off.
"You take off your clothes first and I'll check the bed," he said.
"You see, I'm the Duke and I got to be careful."
Tiger pulled off her sweater.
"I understand, Duke," she purred. "Let me hold your drink while you check the bed."
He almost handed it to her, but then thought better of it.
She could easily slip in a drug while he was checking the bed.
"No, that's okay," he answered.
He was being careful.
This time, things were going to go good.
He went over to the bed and pulled down the covers with one hand, the other hand still holding the drink.
When he bent down to check the sides of the bed, he put his drink on the night table.
He felt up and down the edges of the bed, even under the mattress. Nothing.
He could feel her eyes on him, but if he was going to relax, he had to be sure he was safe.
"You really check, don't you, Duke?"
she asked.
Her voice was right behind him.
He grabbed for his drink.
She was getting close.
He turned around to see her standing there, her long, thin, athletic body naked except for her purple bra and panties. What a contrast she was to the fleshy mounds of Saturday.
This was going to go good.
"Come on, Duke, take me," she said.
She reached behind herself,
undid her bra, pulled it off and flicked it in his face. Her perfume-scented bra filled his nostrils with the feminine smell of some sort of flower.
She took his free hand and placed it on her breast.
Her bra fell over his drink and she carefully took it off and threw it on the floor.
"Come on, Duke, take me.
I'm really horny for you.
Drink up.
And listen - I understand how a leader like you can get nervous, so I'm going to handcuff both my hands to the bed, spread eagle style.
That way you know I can't do anything to you.
Just be sure to let me go when you're finished.
The cuffs are on the dresser."
Man, this woman was great.
Gilmore ran one hell of a place.
This
woman understood a man like himself.
Maybe he'd let Gilmore live and manage this place.
Of course, he'd only be a manager.
The Duke went over to the dresser and got the cuffs.
Tiger lay down on the bed and willingly put her two arms up to the top.
He locked her arms to the bed and put the key back on the dresser.
What a turn-on she was, lying there, smiling, waiting for him, only her panties on.
This was going to go good.
He swigged down his drink and unbuttoned his shirt.
"What a chest," she said.
"Come on, Duke."
He sat down, untied his shoes and pulled them off.
He felt a little woozy, probably just the blood running to his head as he bent over to untie his shoes.
Still sitting, he loosened his belt and pulled off his pants.
He stood up in his shorts to go over to the bed and then he fell flat on his face, totally unconscious.
Tiger waited a minute, then ran her hands up the bars of the bed to the fake top and pushed it off.
She unlocked her wrists, picked up her bra and put another pill in the seam.
After she dressed, she dragged the Duke to the iron bed frame and cuffed him to it.
Then she took all the money in his wallet and lifted the medallion off his neck.
"This belongs to Frank Villa," she said to the still figure.
As she was about to leave the room, she looked again at the unconscious form of the Duke.
"Pig," she spat at him.
"I hope Saturday beats the crap out of you."