The Big Enchilada

cravings to experience those pleasures again began to assert themselves. He tried to suppress his feelings, but the harder he tried, the stronger the urges became, until they were nearly tearing him apart.
    One day an acquaintance managed to get the truth out of him. Instead of being shocked, the acquaintance understood completely, and he told Sweet there was a place where he could do anything he wanted—a private club that made fantasies real, and not only that, but did so with complete security and discretion. For Sweet it was a dream come true, and he soon became a member of the Black Knight Club. It was expensive—ten thousand dollars to join and a thousand dollars a month membership fees, plus extra charges for the use of the private rooms—but Sweet had the money, and for the first time in years he felt completely satisfied. His work improved as well as his relations with his family, and no one had any idea about his secret life.
    Suddenly all that changed. Sweet received a phone call telling him that photos existed and would be made available if Sweet didn’t cooperate. The caller didn’t want money, but only wanted Sweet to queer the take-over of Medco that he was currently negotiating. Sweet didn’t believe about the pictures and refused. Shortly afterward, he was visited by the biggest, ugliest man he had ever seen—friend Mountain, of course—who showed him a couple of photos and exercised some none-too-subtle persuasion. Sweet was terrified that his whole life was about to fall apart, and saw no choice but to cooperate. The take-over was a comparatively small matter for Megaplex, and Sweet had little trouble in canceling the deal. He never understood why anyone would want to stop the merger, and he never knew who was blackmailing him. Other than the voice over the phone, he never had contact with anyone except Mountain.
    The whole episode scared Sweet shitless, and he stopped going to the club. He still paid a thousand dollars a month, though, and he lived in terror of another telephoned demand.
    The one thing Sweet did was talk to the man who had introduced him to the club. It turned out that the man was similarly coerced into enlisting Sweet—not Sweet specifically, but anyone in a position of power and influence. That man had since committed suicide, and Sweet confessed that the uncertainty of his situation, plus all the guilt he felt, had led him also to consider that escape.
    Sweet said that of course he knew Simon Acker who had taken part in the negotiations. He was surprised when Acker bought out the owner of Medco after the take-over fell through, but Sweet was deeply involved in his own dilemma and did not think much about it. He didn’t know Acker belonged to the Black Knight and was startled to hear it. No, he repeated, he didn’t have a clue about what was going on.
    “Does this help you at all?” he said after he had finished the story.
    I thought. Had it? I knew more than I had before, but it seemed that the more I got, the more complicated it became.
    I didn’t know if I was getting closer to or further from the answers. The Black Knight was sure some operation, though —taking it in from all sides and directions. Money from one end, power and influence from another. Whoever was behind the club must have enough people in his pocket to do just about anything he wanted. Quite a setup. I could see why Ratchitt would fight pretty hard to protect his piece of it.
    And what was the situation with Acker? He seemed to be right in the middle, or close to it. Was he being blackmailed? Faro had no pictures, but there might be something else. And if Acker was being blackmailed, what did he have to do? And where did he get the money to buy the company? And why? Too many questions. Maybe Stubby would have some answers when I got in touch with him in the afternoon.
    Sweet was watching me closely as I thought about all this, despair, hope, and expectation crossing his face.
    “Do you think you can do something?” he said. “It’d be worth a lot to me.” I bet it would.
    “I don’t know yet, but I’ll make you a deal. Let’s see, you’re paying twelve grand a year now in membership fees. I don’t want anything up front, but if I can get you free, give me half of that—six K. One time payment, and that’s it. Fair enough?”
    He nodded. “But you’ll have to be careful. I mean, I don’t know what would happen if they found out I was talking with you. I’m sure they wouldn’t