After finishing cleaning up the sheriff’s office we headed over to the nightclub named Salvatore, only to find that the matches had already started. Nightclubs are usually clean and fancy places, but we were, after all, in a rundown area of a mining town. The place was just a big watering hole. The clientele was almost entirely miners. The rest looked like restaurant managers and maybe some government workers. Looking around, the words “high” and “class” weren’t the first to come to mind. In the center of the giant floor was a seven-by-seven-meter, four-sided ring. Tables were randomly arranged tightly around the ring. The walls to my left and right each had a giant screen set up showing different angles of the action, probably in an effort to eliminate any blind spots for the customers. The interior and furniture were all rather cheap, but they must have put some big money into those giant screens. Even now, I could see anguished wrestlers getting their necks and arms bent to extreme angles in the bigger-than-life simulcast, but of course, this wasn’t because they want the fans to be able to see every detail of the match. It was used for instant replay, because the customers were betting on the bouts. Will he endure or tap out? In a moment’s notice you could decide, and insert the appropriate card into a slit in the center of your table, and hit the button. Get it right, and you’re in the money. Get it wrong, and the money is pulled from your bank account. The important point to keep in mind is that winners are paid in cash, and losers get it taken from their account. Thanks to this system, customers can play with seemingly no end in sight, but soon they find themselves completely broke.
Stepping onto the floor, a manager soon came our way. He guided us to an open table. At first he gave a funny look when he saw Mugi, but after Jeff whispered something in his ear, he spread both hands open wide in an overly grandiose fashion, and gave up on trying to kick us out. Reading Jeff’s lips, it looked like he said the word “dirty” then something-something, but I pretended not to see. The more handsome you are, the more forgiving I get.
Salvatore was crowded. Almost completely packed. Even still, we didn’t have to wait and were taken straight to a table. This must have been because we were with Jeff. This was the manager’s way of showing respect to the town sheriff. Still, it wasn’t like we had the best seats in the house. We were just off from the center of the ring, and hardly ringside.
Before taking our seats, Yuri and I did one quick walk around the ring. We especially wanted to get a look at who was sitting closest to the ring. That’s where the regular customers would be sitting.
“What did you see?” Jeff asked as soon as we sat down. Jeff didn’t know what Landis looked like, but we had seen a picture back at Headquarters.
“It looks like him sitting at the ringside table to the right,” I said.
“I thought so, too,” Yuri agreed.
“He has gray hair, thin eyebrows, green eyes, a scraggly goatee, and a small scar on his left cheek.”
Yuri gestured, showing me the binoculars she had pinched in her right forefinger. I thought I had pretty good vision, but this helped. I did what I could to keep an eye on him.
“I am thinking the best plan is to wait until all the fights are over, and then grab him when he tries to leave.”
“We don’t have that kind of time,” I said, shaking my head. “Let’s just pull him outside right now.”
“That’s not a good idea,” said Jeff, his expression changing. “The main event is about to start. If we disrupt that, it could cause a problem.”
“It’ll be okay. It’s not like we are arresting him. We‘ll just say we want to ask him a couple questions. It’s not like he’s going to try and escape or make a scene.”
“Well, but…”
The rest of Jeff’s sentence was completely drowned out by a horrendously loud blast of music. Surprised, I looked at the stage to see that the semi-final bout was over, and the next match was about to start. It seemed that the loser in the semi-final snapped his shoulder blade. These were big money matches which they took very seriously.
The ring announcer, clad in a white tuxedo, read off the name of a wrestler in the main event.
At the same time, a hole in the floor at ringside opened up, and the wrestler rose up slowly standing on a garish and flashy mantle, brazenly pushing out his chest and flexing his muscles. The music and cheers were getting very loud.
The wrestler sprung into the ring. The mantle returned into the floor. The wrestler stood on top of the turnbuckle. He raised his fist high above his head and extended his forefinger to the ceiling. He was a younger wrestler. And he wasn’t one of the really big men, but he had a very tight and muscular physique.
“He’s cute! Hey, who is he? Who is he?” Yuri asked Jeff the wrestler’s name. We didn’t hear what the announcer had said through all the cheering.
“Sammy Lee. He’s tonight’s challenger,” Jeff yelled back.
The ring announcer introduced the name of another wrestler.
From the opposite corner of Sammy Lee, the champion stood in front of the ring.
He was big. I couldn’t help but take a long look. No matter how you stacked it, he was big. This guy was at least two and a half meters tall. No. Taller. Saying Sammy Lee’s head came to his belly button would probably be exaggerating, but he surely didn’t reach the top of his shoulder.
“The Golem. He’s the unbeaten champion,” Jeff explained before we had a chance to ask. Unbeaten. No doubt. How do you beat a beast that huge? He looked to be about 300 kilos. I didn’t even want to classify him as human. In fact, if I were a biologist, I would probably classify him under a brand new phylum, order, and species. With elephant-like speed, the champion Golem lumbered into the ring. I am not joking. The ring began to creak.
Switching places with the announcer, the referee hopped into the ring.
Calling both fighters, he gave them a list of warnings.
“This is no fun. Who would bet on this match-up? It’s like an adult fighting a child,” Yuri rattled.
“That’s why Golem has a handicap,” replied Jeff. “The odds are ten-to-one, so it’s all right for Sammy Lee to go for Golem’s eyes. He’s also allowed to strangle. If Golem does it, he gets a foul.”
Made sense. But I wasn’t convinced those handicaps were going to be much help against a monster like Golem. If it was me, I’d get permission to use a hand blaster in the ring.
There was a swell in the noise from the crowd. You could really feel the tension rising on the floor surrounding the battle that was about to begin. Each wrestler took a step away from his corner and glared at the combatant across from him. Golem’s eyes were a reddish-gold color. They looked like they were about to go up in flames.
The Golem gave out a roar.