Free Badger Games by Jon A. Jackson

activity.”
    â€œWell, I hope so, for her sake. But I’m not so sure I believe it. It’s not so easy to get out, as Mr. DiEbola found. And Joe,” the colonel said, “it might take a while to see whether it’s true. But you could find out.”
    â€œYeah, I could.”
    â€œAnd if she wasn’t out …” The colonel let that hang for amoment, then spoke what was on his mind. “Her father was in it. She’s pretty well positioned. She could even take over. If she did, or if it looked like she might … she might be a good way for you to prove …”
    Joe laughed. “You guys never give up, do you?”
    The colonel managed a smile. “No. No we don’t, Joe.”
    â€œAre you speaking as a federal agent, Colonel? Or as a Lucani?” Joe was interested.
    â€œIn my experience,” the colonel said mildly, “the feds do let people go. That was the problem, as we saw it. No, it’s the Lucani who can’t afford to let things drop. Too much at risk, you see.” He turned to go.
    â€œOne minute,” Joe said.
    The colonel stopped in the act of climbing onto the dock. He looked back. “What is it?”
    â€œAren’t you forgetting something?”
    The colonel looked blank. “What?”
    â€œThe money. The ‘fee.’ I think we said one hundred thousand dollars.”
    â€œAh yes, I forgot that about you, Joe. You like to be paid. I think I mentioned that you were free to help yourself to Mr. DiEbola’s ill-gotten gains.”
    â€œAnd I rejected that,” Joe said. He was smiling, but he still had his hand in his coat pocket. “Anyway, we didn’t have time to look around, and then Pollak kind of made it necessary to leave in a hurry. So I’ll settle for the fee.”
    â€œWell, I don’t have it on me,” the colonel said. He held his hands out, open, as if asking Joe to search him.
    â€œPut your hands down,” Joe said, sharply. He moved more deeply into the shadows. “Come, sit down, like you were.”
    The colonel complied. He perched on the high seat, his hands in his lap.
    â€œThat’s one of the things I hate about this work,” Joe said. “You always have to ask for your money. Well,” he admitted, “not with Fats—DiEbola. He always brought the money to the table. But his old boss, Carmine, didn’t. That’s what started all this … this stupid shit. He always made you ask. I don’t want to get in the same situation with you. Where’s the money?”
    â€œI can get it,” the colonel said. “It’s back at the hotel. You needn’t get excited, Joe. I thought, in the way of these things, that I’d debrief you and then, if everything seemed okay—which it doesn’t, quite, but we’ll let that go—then we’d meet later at the hotel and you would be paid. Okay?”
    â€œYou’ve left it for quite a while already,” Joe said. “So let’s go get it.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œWhy not? Have you got a date?”
    â€œWell, it’s a little late,” the colonel said. “And we’re both tired…. But if you want to…. Why, sure, why not?”
    They walked down the wooden catwalk, Joe staying close but slightly to the rear. When they reached the parking lot, Joe let the colonel lead the way, but still stayed close. He walked in the direction of Joe’s car, an ordinary Ford rental. Joe let him walk. When the colonel stopped a few cars away from the rental, as if to wait for Joe to get into the car, Joe said, “Where’s your car?”
    â€œMine? I thought you’d prefer to drive.”
    â€œNo, you drive,” Joe said. He’d had experience with these guys. His car was probably wired.
    â€œBut then,” the colonel protested, “I’d have to drive you all the way back. The hotel is all the way over on the northwest side of