100 Theme Challenge #68

Sequel of #50, #51, #52, #54 and #60.

68. Dirt

Part VI

 "What is it?" Kenneth asked, frowning as Jack turned his head at two men discussing quite loudly at a table close by. They were talking about some club they both were members of.

"I earned quite a comfortable amount last time I went there, anyway," one of the men laughed. "I was able to bring my Linda out of Chicago for a few days."

"Congrats, mate. I didn't win anything big yet, but I plan on going in for a lot this next weekend."

Jack scoffed. They were idiots enough to share on illegal activities. He didn't think they were part of the Outfit, the leading gambling force in Chicago, but gambling activities had been part of the city's underground for many years now. A few years ago, Jack had been thrown in the middle of a gambling war, and it hadn't been all that fun. Police officers were kidnapped and gangs would hire hitmen to kill people.

"Excuse me for a moment," he grumbled to Kenneth before raising from his seat. He walked to the two men, who frowned at him when they saw him.

"Evening, gentlemen. You had a nice conversation there."

"It's none of your business, scram!" One retorted, trying to sound menacing. Jack merely chuckled.

"On the contrary. I'm from the FBI, Jack Byrnes. I have a few questions for you." Without asking he sat on the vacant seat at their table. "I'm not here to denounce anyone, if that's what you're worrying about."

The men groaned, probably sorry now they didn't lower their voices. And Jack thought every patron of this bar knew a FBI officer was often nursing gin and tonic here.

"We have nothing to say to you," the same one repeated. He was red in the face, with his chubby cheeks and small eyes.

"Funny, because just now I heard you talking about how you won a gamble."

He drew out a cigarette. "I'd be interested to know where that happened," he continued as he lit his smoke.

The two men looked at each other.

"What's in it for us?" The one who kept silent until now asked. Always wanting a reward.

"Your names not spilled in my report, so don't keep me waiting."

"All right then." The second one gulped down his drink, straight brown rum. "Each night people meet in the basement of the Smithfield Foods. We play cards and gamble, but it's usually nothing serious, I assure you."

"Enough to finance a trip though," Jack replied, blowing the smoke almost in his face.

"Yeah… I got lucky."

"Well, thank you for your time, gentlemen. Enjoy your night out of prison," he smirked and returned to the bar. Kenneth was still there, and his drink.

"Sorry about that. Work never leaves me alone."

"No need to apologize. I have to admit your interrogation skills are quite impressive."

Jack chuckled. "That was merely an interrogation. I didn't need to use my fists." The gin and tonic rolled on his tongue before he swallowed it down.

"I'm afraid our conversation will have to be continued some other time."

"I heard. Good luck, Mister Byrne." Kenneth smiled and Jack stared at him for a moment before nodding at him and taking off.

.

Cars were scattered around the building, the people were parked far enough so nobody who didn't know about the activities down in there wouldn't look twice He parked right at the entrance and tried to enter through the front door. It was locked, but Jack expected it. He went around the building and found the back entrance. That one was unlocked.

He could feel the comfortable weight of his weapon in its holster against his hip, and he knew for sure he would need it that night. The place looked everything like a warehouse, except for the man guarding the door leading to another room.

"Hi there," Jack saluted the tall man who eyed him as if he was a mere bug, and Jack was in no way small. He'd been hardened by years of being a FBI officer.

"Are you on the list?" The gorilla lookalike asked without introduction. Jack shrugged.

"That depends. What does it take to be on that list?"

"Paying your entrance to Mike, and it appears you didn't if you're asking me."

"What if I'm paying you?" Jack replied, and the bouncer sighed.

"How much are you willing to give?"

"Let's see…" Jack searched through his pockets and retrieved his gun. "How about a bullet in the knee?"

"Sometimes I hate my job…" The man carefully stepped aside. "Go ahead, I don't feel like losing a leg tonight."

(What is 100TC?)