The Big Man of Jim Beam

Chapter 11Mules on the Fifth Floor

Booker drove to work one morning with mules on his mind. By God, he thought, those mules might just tell me something. Or at least confirm a hunch I have.

He called Jerry Summers, the apprentice distiller, into his office and told him to find out where the most mules in the plant were and to report right back to him.

“Mules,” Jerry repeated. Summers—young, eager, and college educated—had been hired to help modernize the plant and oversee the computerization of the distilling process. Though he had a bourbon background (his father had worked for years at the plant), he was new to the business himself, and Booker's order, brusquely issued, confused him.

“Mules,” he said again, still standing in Booker's office.

The Big Man glanced up from his paperwork. “What are you still doing here? You're not getting paid to stand. Go find them. I know they leave them on certain floors, they hide ‘em. They don't want to be caught with them. So go on now and find them. Go.”

Summers slowly turned and left the office. Standing outside by the distillery door, he scratched his head. He had been at the plant for a few months now and thought he knew it pretty well, but he hadn't seen any mules about. Chickens, hogs, pigeons, even some deer—but for the life of him, no mules.

Finally, he thought it best to ask another worker for clarification. He saw Bobby Hagen coming his way.

“Hey, Bobby. Do we have any mules here?”

“Who wants to know about mules?”

“Booker does. ...