“Get a load of this guy. Jewish Detective.” The burly dockworker chuckled to his buddies who ranged from equally stocky to short and fat.

Max nodded politely, ignoring the racist remark. Anti-semitism waxed and waned- even in America. “Gentlemen. Where is the body?”

The jovial mood flattened immediately, charging the air with danger, but all five of men were eager to help. Together they took him down into the dirty part of the docks, past dozens of wooden crates that were waiting to be picked up. Their shoes began to mimick the slapping sound of the water against the harbor.

“Here.” A hoarse voice whispered.

A dead man lay facedown, half stuffed inside an alley.

Max knelt and flipped him over and swallowed back the rising bile. Like so many of the others lately, this dead man’s face was a mess. The most telling feature was the bloody socket that once housed an eye.

“Good work, gentlemen. You did the right thing notifying the police.”

“Does this mean that the Cyclops has stuck again?”

“I’m afraid so.”