However, as Mary had hoped, the thrill of capturing her eventually gave way to his curiosity. It took a while—mainly because he had a new toy: the Hindenburg, which he insisted on calling a blimp, and no one dared to correct him—not even Speedo, who was told he’d be sleeping with the magma if he didn’t pilot Pugsy anywhere he wanted to go.

It took a week for him to tire of tooling around the airspace above Chicago, and then his thoughts turned to the legendary girl sealed away in the Hall of Transportation. He would not lower himself to go to her; however, he had his three favored foot soldiers bring her to him.

After a week, Mary’s spirit had not been broken. It would take more than shackles and solitude to humble Mary Hightower—although there were a few times that she became a bit delirious, and fantasized about Nick putting their battle aside, and barreling into Chicago on his train to rescue her. Her own fantasy infuriated her, because Mary was not, nor would ever be, a damsel in distress.

Finally Pugsy’s boys arrived, unshackled her, and led her out into daylight, toward the giant Ferris wheel. She held herself high all the way there. Her presence there drew crowds that were quickly dispersed when the thugs gave them the evil eye.

The Ferris wheel was more than a mere amusement park ride. Its long rectangular gondolas were the size of railroad cars, each one capable of carrying dozens of people to vertigo-inducing heights. The door to the lowermost gondola was open, and Mary was led inside to what must have been the Death Boss’s throne room.

The throne was a red leather armchair, and the boy who sat in it was not at all what Mary expected. Pugsy Capone was a chubby thirteen-year-old in a pinstriped double-breasted suit that was noticeably tight. Mary wondered whether Pugsy immediately decided that since he was stuck wearing the clothes of a gangster, he ought to be one, or if he had simply forgotten who he was, and so defined himself by his attire. Mary suspected he had been in Everlost at least fifty years, by the style of his suit.

It was easy to see how Pugsy had gotten his name. He had unpleasantly bulging eyes, and his nose was pushed up and back, exposing his nostrils, as if he had died while pressing his face up against a window. He looked so much like a pug dog, Mary half expected him to bark.