A radar ping in the back of Werth’s mind. A selfish twisting in his gut. “What?”

“Your reward. For being so loyal.”

“Reward.”

“Of course. Employees who go beyond the pale deserve employee bonuses. You want a house here on the Upper West Side? Done. A new crew? Easy. Something new to drive? That can happen with a hand wave. Think about it, won’t you?”

Then Candlefly opens the door.

Werth is left reeling. The gut punch of a sudden promise – the potential for security, for wealth, is dizzying. He sees his moment: Candlefly there at the top of the steps, looking back at Werth with a smile on that handsome face.

“Coming?”

Werth swallows. Would be nice to have a proper house in a neighborhood like this one. All this time, people still treat him like a freak…

“Sure. Yeah. Lead the way.”

And the opportunity slips from his grip as Candlefly descends and Werth follows.

Werth’s still got diamonds in his eyes as they reach the bottom of the basement stairs. Candlefly starts talking again, says, “You know the phrase, carrot and the stick? Some confusion over it. Some believe it’s a carrot tied to the end of the stick – dangled at the front of the donkey’s mouth so he moves the cart ever forward, the foolish ass thinking he’s just one step away from a mouthful of delicious carrot. But that’s not how I take it. I take it to mean that, in all things, we have two options: reward, and punishment. Honey or vinegar. Carrot and stick.”

Werth’s about to say something, but Candlefly turns on the light.

Revealed: the wine cellar. Oaken racks of dark bottles. In the back, a few cases of beer – good beer, not the cheap shit Werth likes to drink.

But none of that is as interesting as the man strapped to the chair in the middle of the floor. Werth knows him. How could he not? Mr Smiley’s one of the biggest information brokers in the city.

He’s a Snakeface. Doesn’t look the part right now because Werth is standing here Blind. Now Smiley’s just a man in a bright blue suit. Nice wing-tips. Manicured nails. And despite bring trussed up like a roast, he’s grinning big and broad.

“Is all of this… truly necessary?” Smiley asks. The smile is strained. Lips trembling to hold their position. Werth can see that. The grin is big, but the eyes are dark. Suspicious. People tend to smile with their whole face, but this, this is just lips turning upward.

“You know him, yes?” Candlefly asks.

Werth nods. “Hey, Smiley. Surprised to see you here.”

“Werth! My old satyr friend. Will you get me out of this chair?” Werth sees he’s bound up with zip-ties. A lot of them. Ankles and wrists, and then every two inches up the length. Too much for a man. Maybe not enough for a Snakeface. Especially one as slippery as Smiley. “It is dreadfully uncomfortable.”