He was waiting outside his room when Hogan came swaggering around the corner, the better to avoid temptation. Judging by the smirk on the other man’s face, the move wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped. “Bless, you were so excited to see me, you sprung up early.”
“Good morning, Hogan.”
“Good morning, buttons. You ready?”
Vergil hefted his case at him, then seemed to realise how silly it looked a moment later. He was acting like a fool. “Let’s go meet your smugglers.”
They never made it to the Marsh Cannery. Hogan had sent a telegram ahead before leaving Arkham and the whole place had shut down for the day. The foreman was a union man, and he seemed to tolerate Hogan’s operation as a necessary evil to keep food in his men’s bellies rather than revelling in it like so many of the bootleggers d
