I go to the jukebox to see what's playing.
"Set me adrift and I'm lost over there
And I must be insane, to go skating on your name,
And by tracing it twice,
I fell through the ice Of Alice…"
"Who put this song on?" I turn and look at the room. It's early enough that the place isn't packed yet. There are maybe a dozen people scattered at different tables. "Who put this song on?" Not a word. My heart is pounding. I go back to the bar, keeping an eye on the room, not sure what to do. I want to start throwing furniture and people, but two sets of civilian casualties in one day is probably two too many.
I ask Carlos, "Did you see anyone by the jukebox?"
"Sorry, man. No. I didn't even know we had the song. Never heard it before. The service guys change the tunes every now and then, when they come in to empty the coin bins."
"Next time one of them comes in, tell them to take it off."
"You got it. Here. Have another drink." Carlos starts to pour me one, sets down the bottle, and grabs a baseball bat from under the counter.
"Get the fuck out of here, rulacho. You got no business here."
I look at the door. One of the skinheads from the other day is there, black eyes and his arm in a sling. He comes inside and stands by the bar, tall and cocky, but his heartbeat says he's scared, and he's keeping an eye on Carlos and his bat.
"The Blut Fuhrer wants to see you," he says, nodding at me.
"The bloated what?"
"Blut Fuhrer," says Carlos. " 'Blood leader.' The boss to these Nazi bitches."
"Shut up, spick. White men are talking."
I have one hand around skinhead's throat and I'm squeezing the juice out of him. This is exactly what I need to work off some tension. When I let go, the skinhead falls on his ass on the floor. So much for tall and cocky.
"The Blut Fuhrer…" he rasps.
"Blood leader?" I say. "When did you guys start playing Dungeons and Dragons? Tell the blood fart to kiss my ass."
Himmler grabs a bar stool and pulls himself to his feet. "I told him about that black knife you used on Frederic. That's why he wants to meet you."
"Why do I care what he wants?"
"The Blut Fuhrer says he knows the original owner."
Azazel? A third-rate Colonel Klink impersonator knows Azazel?
"How does your boss know the owner?"
"I don't know. He just said he wanted to meet the man with the power to have that particular knife. He promises you safe passage in and out."
"Thanks, but I think I can find my own way in and out of your mom's basement."
"Don't trust this little bug," says Carlos. "Let me call the cops."
"No. If he knows about the knife, I want to meet the guy."
The skinhead says, "There's a car outside."
When he turns, I wrap my right arm around his neck and squeeze. I have the knife against the side of his throat.