– Jesus, that’s gonna be hell to clean up.

Hurley gives the axe a jerk and pulls it from the Docks Boss’ face.

– Ayuh.

Gooch points at the mess.

– I ain’t helpin’ ta clean this. That wasn’t part of the deal.

Hurley wipes the blade of the axe on the Boss’ shirtfront, sees the cigars and pulls one from the dead man’s pocket.

– No one said ya gotta clean nuttin’.

– Just so it’s clear.

Hurley finds a match, thumbs a flame from it and puts it to the cigar.

– It’s plenty clear, boyo.

Gooch points his baseball bat at the corpses.

– So you guys clean up your mess and I’ll round up the rest of the Docks and let them know we’re joinin’ with ya.

Hurley looks at the cigar, wrinkles his nose, and drops it to hiss in the Boss’ blood.

– Boyo, the way ya fellas sell one ’nother out, we would nae have ya ta clean our privies.

Gooch is about as quick as Boss was. He gets the bat up in a hurry to block Hurley’s axe. But the axe never leaves Hurley’s shoulder.

I tickle Gooch’s earlobe with the barrel of his dead boss’ revolver.

– Hey, Gooch.

He doesn’t move.

– Yeah?

– I like this freak show.

I put a bullet in his ear. And when he’s on the floor, I put a couple more in.

Hurley shakes his head.

– What’s da point a dat, Joe?

– No point. Just that he was an asshole.

Terry comes down the hall and looks at the mess.

He takes off his glasses and bows his head.

– What a waste.

I put a Lucky in my mouth.

– If you say so.

– Labor should be our natural ally. They could have been a big help.

– A big help fucking things up. If this is the best Brooklyn has to offer, we don’t have much to worry about.

Terry slips the glasses up his nose and gives me a look.