Wet Work by Christopher Buckley

Author:Christopher Buckley [Buckley, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Charley reached into his pocket. He was an old-fashioned man, had never used a credit card—didn't believe in them—always kept a thick, comforting wad of cash. He peeled off a few bills and was going to crumple them and toss them down to the beggars, then that didn't seem right either.

A security guard looked out of his shed and saw them and came out waving his stick and shouting at them, "Fuera, fuera! Fuera!" just like Sister Angustia used to do when the chickens wandered in during Mass. Charley called down to the crewman standing watch at the gangplank to let the beggars aboard. The beggars came scrambling up, turning as they did to give the wharf guard various unmistakable hand signals. The man with no nose was grinning and made a hissing noise through his exposed sinuses.

Charley came down the stairs and there they were, standing improbably in the main salon. He approached them with his customary Chargin' Charley gait. The beggar nearest went into a half crouch, thinking he was going to hit them.

He shook their hands and asked their names.

"Okay," he said in his fluent Spanish, "I want to do some business with you. I want to buy some prayers."

The beggars nodded.

Charley said, "You're all Catholic, right?"

"Siii," they said together.

"No Jehovah's Witnesses or any of that?" One took out an old rosary looked like it might have belonged to one of the Apostles. Charley peeled bills off his wad, handing each a hundred dollars. "Okay, I want Hail Marys, a hundred of them."

"Si, patron." Another said, "What about some Our Fathers?"

"All right," he said, peeling off another round, "I'll take a hundred of them, too."

The beggar with no nose said, "Capitan, how about Acts of Contrition?"

"All right, fifty."

The oldest one, with an abscessed eye like a runny egg, stepped forward and said with gravity, "Patron, we cannot forget Our Lady of Lourdes." The other beggars murmured assent.

"How many you think she needs?"

"Pues," said the old man thoughtfully, "it's hard to say. Our Lady of Lourdes said, 'Pray to me.' She didn't say how much to pray, but . . ."

"Si," the others said, nodding.

"Prayer bandits," Charley uttered. He handed over the rest of his wad.

"Patron?"

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