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the divorce papers? Huh?…Well?"
    Ruda pawed at the ground with the toe of her boot.
    "Don't mess me around, Tommy, how much do you want?"
    "Well, you got two options, sweetheart. Make me a part of the act, cut me in, or—-I know what they pay top acts, so I don't think it's too much—just give me one hundred thousand dollars."
    "Are you crazy? I don't have that kind of money, everything I earn goes into the act. I swear I don't have…"
    Kellerman ran to the front of Mamon's cage. He pointed with his stubby finger. "Well, sell this bastard, they're worth a lot of dough, aren't they? Or sell your trailer, I know how much that's worth, and I know Grimaldi must be set up. I need dough, I got to pay some heavy guys off, and I got no one else. What you want from me, want me to beg? Fuck you! You owe me!"
    Ruda remained in the narrow alley between the cages. It took all her willpower to contain her anger. "Tommy, don't stand in front of the cages, they don't like it. I'll get you as much as I can, but not dollars, not here."
    Kellerman leered at her. "That's not good enough, Ruda. You want me to go over and have a chat with Grimaldi? You can get the cash from the head cashier. You think I dunno how much dough you're getting paid per show? It was the talk of Paris, so don't give me any bullshit."
    "I'll see what I can do, and I'll come to your hotel tonight after I fix the night feed. But only on condition you don't work here. I also want our marriage license. Is it a deal?"
    Kellerman looked at his watch. "Okay, I'll go grab a bite. You get me the dough, I'll give you the license. We got a deal, my love."
    "Then leave now, I don't want you yapping to anyone!"
    Kellerman grinned. "Eh! There's guys here that'd cut my throat if they saw me, so I'm gone…but you'd better turn up, you got until midnight." He scrawled on a card the hotel and phone number, tucking it into her pocket, smiling. Then he perched his hat at a jaunty angle and departed.
    Mike was already sorting out the meat for the midday feed. He used a hatchet to slice the meat from the bone, and a carpenter's sledgehammer with a short handle to crack open the carcass. Ruda collected the large trays, carefully tagged for each cat. They weighed the feeds, placing the trays in readiness for the cages. She wore a rubber apron; blood covered her hands and arms. Like Mike, she wielded the knives and hatchets like a professional.
    After they washed off the blood, Ruda said, "You can grab a coffee, Mike, I'll do the next feed. What time have they allocated the arena for us?"
    Mike handed her a carefully worked-out schedule showing when the main rings would be available for her to rehearse the act.
    Ruda looked over the sheet, frowning. "Have the new plinths I ordered arrived yet?"
    "I think so, but until everyone's settled, I can't get to the delivery trucks. They're all parked out at the rear."
    She swore under her breath and snapped, "Go and check, I'll need them tonight, we've no time to mess around!"
    Ruda fed the cats herself, as she always did. That way she could monitor their diet and see if they had any problems. After the feed, she helped the boys sweep and wash down the boards.
    It had been a long journey. Ruda's helpers retired to their trailers exhausted. None of them had ever been able to keep up with her; she seemed to have unending energy and stamina; she was stronger than most men, and had high expectations. Anyone not prepared to give one hundred percent was fired on the spot.
    Until now she had not allowed herself to concentrate on the Kellerman problem. She was so engrossed in her thoughts, desperately trying to think what she should do about her first husband, that she virtually moved on automatic pilot. She had been so anxious to leave Kellerman that she had never considered divorce, but she had always consoled herself that no one would ever know because when she married Grimaldi, Kellerman was in jail. He wouldn't know, and Luis would have had no reason to