The CRES code

Chapter Thirty Six - Loach Rises

     "We've got a job for you," said Machine.

     "About time," said Loach. I was beginning to wonder if you'd decided to pay me for standing around looking beautiful."

     Machine's eyes narrowed but he didn't rise to the jibe. He went over to the wide, panel traceried window overlooking the main gaming floor of The Halls of Valhalla, his huge, meaty body moving with a grace that should have been impossible for a man of his size. On the other side of the thick, green tinged glass, five metres below, individual gaming tables were picked out by chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, making them stand out in the huge, darkened room. A hubbub of conversation rose from the dozens of men and women in expensive evening clothes gathered around the tables, their attentions focused on whatever game was being played there. Now and then one of them would look up at the traceried window behind which Machine and Loach were looking down at them, perhaps wondering if Badger himself were in residence, watching the crowd of people so busy and so happy to make him richer.

     "There's a guy who owes money to Mister Badger," said Machine without turning to look at Loach. "A lot of money. A one time frequenter of this establishment. The dealers were instructed to let him win every so often, to keep him interested. To keep him coming back. We were able to make a small but steady profit from him for many years, but then he began to lose control. Made larger and larger wagers. It's a familiar pattern. They all go that way sooner or later."

     Loach nodded. It had been equally true back in his day.

     "He started losing more and more money," Machine continued. "The dealers were instructed to stop letting him win. We were hoping to discourage him, make him go away, but he would still win anyway, on occasion. Games of chance are unpredictable like that. He got deeper and deeper in debt. We've given him every chance to pay it off. Sent friendly reminders, asked family members to intercede on our behalf. All to no avail. He would offer a few crowns now and again, as if that would be enough to placate us, always promising he would be good for the rest if we only gave him more time.

     "Mister Badger doesn't like using the ultimate sanction. A living customer will keep coming back, make more money for us, but a dead customer is good for nothing. He was bad for business, though. Everyone else who owes money to Mister Badger sees him holding out and is encouraged by it. They think they might also be able to hold out longer. The time has come to send a message, therefore."

     "He's a problem," said Loach, "and you need your problem eliminator."

     "Right. You think you can eliminate this problem for us?"

     "Just tell me who he is and where he lives."

     "His name is William Paxton. He lives on Newbridge Street but he's currently staying in a house on Gable Road. Tyler knows the place, he'll take you there. You'll take a couple of lads with you as insurance, just in case anything goes wrong."

     Machine turned to face the other man. He was so massive across the shoulders that it was like watching the opening of a bank vault. An object so large and heavy that, once it was moving, its own momentum would overcome virtually any force that tried to stop it.

     His hard grey eyes examined Loach's face, searching the bruises and contusions from their fight two days earlier for any trace of guile or treachery. "Make no mistake," he said in his deep, rumbling voice. "Your mission is not to teach him a lesson. You are not going there to collect the money he owes us. He had his chance. You are going there to kill him. Quick or slow, hard or easy, I leave that to you so long as he'd dead when you leave the house. Anyone else in the house, leave them alive to tell the tale so long as they've got no proof they can take to the police that it was us. We want everyone to know it was us, we just don't want them to be able to prove it was us."