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As the Mick entered the Flagship, it took a few minutes until his bloodshot eyes got accustomed to the low level of light inside. To the right he could hear the thunder-like sounds of bowling balls rolling down the alleys and the clash of pins being hit and scattered. Then his pupils dilated and he could make out the oval cocktail bar directly in front of him.

The bar stools were empty and only the bartender was behind the bar, washing glasses. The Mick shuffled up to the bar (he was still hurting from finishing off Hagar’s stash of poteen) and said to the barkeep: “I want to see Bill the Bookie, it’s urgent!”.
The barkeep looked at the Mick and said: “Who the hell are you?”. The Mick fished in his shirt pocket and pulled out a Delaney card and handed it to the barkeep. The barkeep held the card up to the light by the cash register, read it and then asked:
“Dick Hertz? Who’s Dick Hertz?” The Mick replied: “No, you’ve got the card upside down, turn it around.” The barkeep turned the card around and read: “Clark Kent? Who’s Clark Kent?”. The Mick had had enough of this Black & Tan type of interrogation...He jumped up on the bar, unbuckled his pants and mooned the barkeep. “Take a look at this, ye narrerbacker and pug ma hone!”.

The barkeep saw on the Mick’s right buttock the symbol of the brotherhood: a green Shamrock tattoo encircled with the ring shaped mark of a plumber’s helper’s suction cup. He immediately picked up a shot glass and filled it with a dollop of Jameson’s from a bottle he kept under the bar (not the stuff in view of the usual customers). Handing the drink to the Mick he said: “Bill the Bookie is in back behind the alleys, talking to the pinboys...go on back.”



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