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"Five of the Ugliest Crooks You Ever Saw"
May. 15th, 2022 05:05 pm"Five of the Ugliest Crooks You Ever Saw"
4/5/2012
I.
Sheng had a strong suspicion right away that Peter Galliano was completely insane. When they first met, the infamous criminal turned his head and said to his own left shoulder, "What do you think of this Argent guy?" Galliano then continued in a higher-pitched voice, "I don't trust him, Pete, I think he's trouble." Nodding, the infamous mastermind said in his normal voice, "Yeah. I think you're right, Pete."
Behind Sheng, ancient Uncle Pao muttered in Cantonese, >"Choose your words carefully, nephew. This one is even crazier than that Punster fool."<
"Ah... yes. Won't you have a seat and tell me what brings you here?" Sheng offered in the most casual voice he could muster. His own cluttered desk sat in front of a fan-shaped window that looked down on lower Canal Street, but a smaller desk had been set up for Uncle Pao to one side and slightly behind where clients sat. This was actually a useful arrangement. The old man could distract clients at appropriate times with a comment that made them turn their heads toward him, giving Sheng a moment to think or hide something or to go for a weapon. It also allowed Uncle Pao to make disrespectful faces at whatever the clients said, a pastime he enjoyed very much.
Dropping down into his swivel chair, Sheng Mo-Yuan had a feeling this was going to be a long night. He kept the unusual hours of Midnight to eight AM because of the nature of the cases he handled. He unbuttoned his light brown suit jacket as he sat and decided to loosen the knot on his tan necktie and undo the top button on his yellow shirt. For some reason, he wanted to hear what Peter Galliano had to say.
Even side from his disquieting habit of thinking his left shoulder was another person, the crime boss was not a charming presence. About forty, of average height and build, Galliano had thinnning brown hair swept straight back off a high forehead and wire-rimmed glasses on a nose that resembled a badly peeled potato. He was well dressed, but in a lower management office-drone sort of way.
Glancing toward the brute who stood filling the doorway, Uncle Pao added in Cantonese, >"I believe that man's face was pushed in with a rock and pulled back out again with pliers."< It was true that the bodyguard was exceptionally ugly but this unkind remark struck Sheng as funny. He fought down a snort and tried to disguise it as clearing his throat.
Galliano cocked his head toward his left shoulder, said, "What's that, Pete? Uh-huh." Then he jerked a thumb toward the scrawny old white-haired man seated to his side. "We don't think your friend should speak in Chinese. We don't know what he's saying. It's not polite."
"I'm sorry," Sheng said. "My uncle has not been in this country long. Now, Mr Galliano, what is that Argent Investigations can help you with?"
"May I speak freely? Without incriminating myself? Well, I am interested in a class of criminals unrelated to the racketeers and mobsters who handle gambling, drugs, human trafficking, that sort of thing. Those represent 'organized crime,' the underbelly of society. Their existence is a shame but then, their activities answer certain needs that regular citizens want filled... Excuse me." He conferred with his left shoulder in a whisper. The remarks from his shoulder came in that high-pitched squeak.
Looking past Galliano, Sheng saw Uncle Pao giving an apalled facial expression. The old man shook his head from side to side and rolled his eyes up in his head while mouthing the words 'No! No! No!'. To be honest, this was not an extreme reaction for Pao, who acted the same way when Sheng suggested they try some pizza from the all-night place down the street.
"Sorry," Galliano went on. "My partner suggests I get on with it. I'm concerned with a group of maybe a dozen independent masterminds. They plan and act on their own. Most of them hire a few strong-arm specialists to act as henchmen, some have a regular squad of shall we say thugs to handle the physical side of their heists and swindles. I'm sure you have heard of some of them. The Pelican. Casey Strangle. Pumpkin-face. Don Coyote. The Punster..."
Seeing that his guest was waiting for a reaction, Sheng hastened to say, "Of course. I am very interested. Please go on."
"Several of them meet at ten of o'clock on the first Tuesday of each month," Galliano said. "Speaking for our team of Pete and Repeat, we would like to find out what dubious activities they are up to then. I'm afraid that if your presence is detected, you would be murdered immediately."
"And considering that it's Monday night now... or actually Tuesday morning, since it's after twelve," Sheng added, "I'm not going to have much time to think this over."
( the rest of the story )
4/5/2012
I.
Sheng had a strong suspicion right away that Peter Galliano was completely insane. When they first met, the infamous criminal turned his head and said to his own left shoulder, "What do you think of this Argent guy?" Galliano then continued in a higher-pitched voice, "I don't trust him, Pete, I think he's trouble." Nodding, the infamous mastermind said in his normal voice, "Yeah. I think you're right, Pete."
Behind Sheng, ancient Uncle Pao muttered in Cantonese, >"Choose your words carefully, nephew. This one is even crazier than that Punster fool."<
"Ah... yes. Won't you have a seat and tell me what brings you here?" Sheng offered in the most casual voice he could muster. His own cluttered desk sat in front of a fan-shaped window that looked down on lower Canal Street, but a smaller desk had been set up for Uncle Pao to one side and slightly behind where clients sat. This was actually a useful arrangement. The old man could distract clients at appropriate times with a comment that made them turn their heads toward him, giving Sheng a moment to think or hide something or to go for a weapon. It also allowed Uncle Pao to make disrespectful faces at whatever the clients said, a pastime he enjoyed very much.
Dropping down into his swivel chair, Sheng Mo-Yuan had a feeling this was going to be a long night. He kept the unusual hours of Midnight to eight AM because of the nature of the cases he handled. He unbuttoned his light brown suit jacket as he sat and decided to loosen the knot on his tan necktie and undo the top button on his yellow shirt. For some reason, he wanted to hear what Peter Galliano had to say.
Even side from his disquieting habit of thinking his left shoulder was another person, the crime boss was not a charming presence. About forty, of average height and build, Galliano had thinnning brown hair swept straight back off a high forehead and wire-rimmed glasses on a nose that resembled a badly peeled potato. He was well dressed, but in a lower management office-drone sort of way.
Glancing toward the brute who stood filling the doorway, Uncle Pao added in Cantonese, >"I believe that man's face was pushed in with a rock and pulled back out again with pliers."< It was true that the bodyguard was exceptionally ugly but this unkind remark struck Sheng as funny. He fought down a snort and tried to disguise it as clearing his throat.
Galliano cocked his head toward his left shoulder, said, "What's that, Pete? Uh-huh." Then he jerked a thumb toward the scrawny old white-haired man seated to his side. "We don't think your friend should speak in Chinese. We don't know what he's saying. It's not polite."
"I'm sorry," Sheng said. "My uncle has not been in this country long. Now, Mr Galliano, what is that Argent Investigations can help you with?"
"May I speak freely? Without incriminating myself? Well, I am interested in a class of criminals unrelated to the racketeers and mobsters who handle gambling, drugs, human trafficking, that sort of thing. Those represent 'organized crime,' the underbelly of society. Their existence is a shame but then, their activities answer certain needs that regular citizens want filled... Excuse me." He conferred with his left shoulder in a whisper. The remarks from his shoulder came in that high-pitched squeak.
Looking past Galliano, Sheng saw Uncle Pao giving an apalled facial expression. The old man shook his head from side to side and rolled his eyes up in his head while mouthing the words 'No! No! No!'. To be honest, this was not an extreme reaction for Pao, who acted the same way when Sheng suggested they try some pizza from the all-night place down the street.
"Sorry," Galliano went on. "My partner suggests I get on with it. I'm concerned with a group of maybe a dozen independent masterminds. They plan and act on their own. Most of them hire a few strong-arm specialists to act as henchmen, some have a regular squad of shall we say thugs to handle the physical side of their heists and swindles. I'm sure you have heard of some of them. The Pelican. Casey Strangle. Pumpkin-face. Don Coyote. The Punster..."
Seeing that his guest was waiting for a reaction, Sheng hastened to say, "Of course. I am very interested. Please go on."
"Several of them meet at ten of o'clock on the first Tuesday of each month," Galliano said. "Speaking for our team of Pete and Repeat, we would like to find out what dubious activities they are up to then. I'm afraid that if your presence is detected, you would be murdered immediately."
"And considering that it's Monday night now... or actually Tuesday morning, since it's after twelve," Sheng added, "I'm not going to have much time to think this over."
( the rest of the story )
