Act Three
Scene Eight
Sub-Scene One
The bull is here.
“Taurus!” Caesar met his
lieutenant at the old warehouse on Tenth Street. It was an abandoned warehouse
that once housed the huge machinery parts for the farms and factories, prior to
them being shipped by trucks or rails. Then, when abandoned, it was used to
store the Romans tools, such as guns and wines. The occasion was hostage, as
seen by the five animal cages on the far side. No one goes there unless they
want to gag at the smell and sight of blood.
“Caesar.” Taurus approached
the other. He is a tough figure, an ex-ring fighter, and after that, in the
Great War, near the end of it, he saw action and killed two dozen enemies. He
was the Roman’s tough guy to oversee the Tongs; they hated him for being rude
and, above all, vicious with the fists.
“You are looking for me,
Caesar?” Taurus looked at the boss. He held a cut above his left eye from some
fights in the Great War.
“Yes, I am checking on the
readiness of the boys.” Caesar said.
“Good. They are all good.”
Taurus said it with a Brooklyn accent. “Some idiots were put in place when they
said we were doing a civil war here.”
“Do not send out any boys to
attack them just yet; stay in reserve. Do not start to fight until we have
finished fighting at sea. Mark Antony fancies taking us there.” Caesar told
Taurus.
“It makes no difference to
me, boss. I will fight anywhere.
“Settle down, fighter. I
have other work for you. Read this report. You were a sailor before the Great
War. Intelligence counts between win and lose. Do not go beyond the
instructions written in this report.”
“Yes, Boss.” Taurus loyalty
was to Caesar. He had taken instructions in the war, and despite the
disagreement with the contents, he had not gone against the instructions. His
trainer told him at the drills: You followed orders, and if it was to hell, you
did so. Do not ever question the order.
“The pre-script of this
report outlines our fortune.” Caesar reminded the others.
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