Davey stands. Shaking. Flinty eyes casting about, trying to find a slippery grip on the world. The man – older now than Mookie is – looks rattled. He brushes it off, finally levels his stare at Mookie. “Mookie Pearl, as I live and breathe.”

“Davey Morgan.”

“Been a long fucking while, Pearl.”Loooong fookin’ wall.

“It has.”

Morgan shows his palms, lowers them – and as he does, the rest of the Sandhogs, a dozen or so men, lower their guns, axes, hammers.

“You bring these monsters to my doorstep?”

“Maybe. I dunno.”

Davey steps up to Mookie. His bushy caterpillar eyebrows arch. He clucks his tongue, then seems to make some internal decision.

Mookie knows it’s coming long before it hits – the old man telegraphs the punch so far in advance he might as well have sent message by way of an old limping donkey. Just the same, Mookie takes the hit. It’s owed to him.

But just to be sure, he growls:

“You get that one. But you won’t get a second.”

Davey cocks his fist back again.

The hand trembles.

Mookie gently shakes his head. Don’t.

Davey’s fist uncurls and he waves Mookie off. “Ain’t worth breaking my hand on your ugly underbitten jaw, Pearl.” He takes a bit of snuff from a Skor can, stuffs it between gum and lip. The other Sandhogs start to back away – they can sense the body language of their crew chief. They slowly move back to work, always keeping one eye on Mookie – a stranger in this place. “Fuck are you doin’ down here anyway?”

“On a job.”

“Listen to you. Job. This is a job, Pearl. The Sandhogs know the work.” Davey spits and the tobacco juice splashes against the gray back of a dead gobbo. “So, spill it. Whaddya looking for this time?”

“Looking for Death’s Head.”

Davey ill-stifles a bark of a laugh. “Right. You’re smarter than that. Or I thought you were – maybe I’ve been overestimating you all this time.”

“I know it’s a dead-end, but they told me to look so I’m looking.”

Suddenly, Davey switches tracks. “How’s the wife, the kid?”

Mookie knows what he’s doing. Davey’s sizing him up. Why, Mookie’s not sure. Maybe he really knows something.

“Been apart from the wife. Years now.”

“I think I remember hearing that. Your kid?”

“She’s fine.”

Davey smiles. “You’re lying. You got a bad tell, Pearl.” He taps his jaw. “You get tight right here. Muscles bunch up. Like the lie doesn’t want to come out and you have to force out of your mouth.”

“Fine. My daughter hates my guts.”

Another laugh from Davey. “Mine hates me, too. Cassie.”

“I remember her.” Their girls went to junior high together.

“Cassie’s a good kid. Wants to be a Hog.”

“They let women in now?”

“They do, at that. Oh, I scoffed at first too but some of these broads swing a hammer or hang wire-net better than a lot of the fat bastards that work on other crews. That fella over there–” Davey points to a Hog’s broad back in a reflective vest and slicker. “That’s no fella. That’s Honolulu. Samoan girl. Tireless worker. Doesn’t sleep.” Davey shrugs. “Just the same, Cassie can’t be a Sandhog. I won’t let her. It’s too crazy down here.”