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Twenty-four hours later they stood in a dark lower deck of one of the old casino barges. A single lantern threw just enough light off the remaining bits of mirror and glass to reveal just how big, dark, and empty the former gambling hall was. Rows of broken-open, dusty slot machines stood like soldiers on parade.
It reeked of bat guano and mold.
Valentine, Ahn-Kha, Duvalier, and Everready surveyed their handiwork. Rooster was tied facedown on an old roulette wheel, his hands solidly bound to the well-anchored spinner. The rather haggard-looking deposit-and-inventory man couldn't see anything; his head was enclosed in a bag with the number ten written on it.
A small bowl of foul liquid-blood and musk glands from a sick old tomcat Valentine had shot with his .22 an hour ago-rested on the wooden bar for the players' drinks.
"Money, then?" Rooster said. "Moyo's loaded. He'll pay to get me back."
Dahra, Miyichi, and Sula sat on the stools next to the wheel so they could see Rooster's face. Valentine took the hood off.
"Okay, Jacksonville, I give up," Rooster said. The man was crying. "You win. What do you want? What did I ever do to you?"
"No, this is purely professional," Valentine said. "I need to know about a certain train."
"I deal with dozens of trains a week, man. How am I supposed . . ."
"No, this is right up your alley," Valentine said. "It's a really special train."
"Look, I have a dog. No one to look in on him. He's dying-"
"Listen to the question. A train. A special train, not deposits. All women on board. Routed through Memphis. Some sort of medical test selected them. Maybe joining with similar trains."
Slight hesitation. "I don't know anything about a train like that. Let me go and I'll find out for you-"
Valentine turned to the young women. "Looks like you're going to get to watch after all. Bring it in, Smokey."
Ahn-Kha stepped forward from the opposite end of the table, snuffling and snorting. Rooster tried to look behind himself, but couldn't get his chin around his shoulder.
"What's that?"
Valentine walked to the end of the table and used the saw edge on the pocketknife to split Rooster's pants at the buttock line.
"A big, bull Grog, Rooster."
Valentine winked at Ahn-Kha. The Golden One snuffled and snorted around.
"I don't like this," Rooster said. "I think we sent a train like that north somewhere."
Valentine dipped his hand in the smelly cat offal. "You'd better dig deep in your memory, before our bullyboy gets deep into you, Rooster." Valentine smeared the bloody slime up Rooster's crack.
"You can't mean-"
Ahn-Kha began to paw at Rooster, his giant, long-fingered hands taking a grip on his shoulder. He whined eagerly, like a starving dog begging for dinner.
"He thinks you're a female in estrus, Rooster."
"Holy shit, that's big," Dahra said, as the other two girls' mouths dropped open. "Pimp, my forearm's got nothing on this Grog-"
"Stop him!" Rooster shouted.
"Where?" Valentine said, leaning down and looking him in the eyes. "You're about a minute away from a lifetime with a colostomy bag, if you don't bleed to death. Where?"
Something brushed up between Rooster's spread cheeks. "Laurelton, Ohio. Laurelton!" Rooster shrieked.
"Pull him back," Valentine said, and Ahn-Kha grunted as he came off Rooster's back. Valentine threw down the hood. "Show me on this map!" Valentine said, opening an old, rolled-up state atlas.
