Rogues Gallery Read Online Free Page B

which was out of his sight for the moment because the platform was raised. The crowd shook with excitement. He marveled at the feat of engineering involved in keeping such a rackety looking set of bleachers from falling apart.
    The arena’s proprietors, Derek and Desmond, assured him it was all very simple, but he knew it was more complicated than they claimed. There was magic involved, had to be, to keep the structure from collapsing. The crisscrossing network of simple boards nailed together could have never kept the weight and mass of it all without failure. He made a mental note to dive in deeper to investigate at a later date. Not yet, though. There was too much money and fun to be had.
    The arena security men, his men, filtered in and out of the crowd, keeping things under control. There was never total control that was an illusion because that was the nature of the world. Zandor liked to think of it as controlled chaos. And with his particular skills, he could harness and aim the powers that ebbed and flowed around him pretty much the way he wanted.
    His men were long time members of his cabal. Trusted, well trained men whom he treated well. None of Jerrod’s black shirted goons were operating in an official capacity any longer. Zandor had seen to that.
    The arena was his operation and his alone. The owners were… different. Zandor wanted to investigate them further, but there was no need at the moment. They let him do what he wanted and paid him well. Plus, with his control of the back end tribute, they continued to pay to Tanner McDowell, and Zandor got more gold on top of that.
    McDowell had retired up the coast to a secluded mansion several years before, but unbeknownst to Derek, Desmond, and the people that ran the betting tents, McDowell had died some years ago. When Zandor and Jerrod went up to broker a deal with him, they discovered this secret and strong armed the men who kept it going into dealing with them instead. They took the vast majority of the profits.
    A group of three toughs walked by him. They came in most nights and bet. He hadn’t taken away that privilege yet and saw no reason to. If they wanted to waste money like everyone else then so be it. They strolled by and went towards the latrines.
    They eyed him, and he eyed them back. They looked smug. Jerrod was pumping them up with foolish notions to cause trouble, no doubt.
    The owners didn’t even know what was going on, and Zandor preferred it that way. They kept out of his business, and if he wanted to switch up the security forces, it was possible to. The toughs had been great at it, though. Strong and capable of following orders, but a lot of men could do that. They were chattel. And replaceable.
    One of his men walked through the crowd, and Zandor whistled. “Hey! Donny! C’mere a sec, would ya?”
    Tall and lanky, young Donny glanced over at Zandor with bright, alert eyes. He weaved his way through the common spectators. Zandor cracked a smile because the boy was smart and more than a simple big body used to push people around. That was something Jerrod would never learn about people.
    “What can I do for you, Zee?”
    Zandor put his arm on his shoulder. “You doin’ okay, kid? How is everything?”
    Donny shrugged. “Good crowd tonight, everyone is behaving so far.”
    “Good, good. Listen, take a couple more guys and go to the latrine. I think we got some problem there.”
    Zandor stopped. He smelled smoke. Donny looked at him askance.
    “Everything okay, Zee? What’s wrong?”
    “Stupid, stupid bastards. Hey, get some more guys now. We got some fools to deal with right now. C’mon.”
    Donny looked confused, but Zandor didn’t give him enough time to think on it, grabbing his shoulder to rush off towards the latrines. A couple more of his men were close by, and he flicked a hand at them to say “come with us.” They followed.
    The latrines were located to the back and below the south side bleachers. The walls were the