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  “Now that we have that out of the way,” she said. “McKenzie, you look terrible.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  Erin moved past Brazill to my side, turned me around, and began untying the rope that bound my hands. The expressions on Carl and Frankie’s faces when they looked at each other suggested that they didn’t know if they should stop her or not. Their eyes fell on Brazill. He was watching Erin as if he were both impressed and incensed at her audacity and didn’t know which emotion to grab hold of.

  After she finished, Erin took the rope and tossed it on the reception desk. I massaged my wrists where the rope had chafed them nearly raw. She winked at me—an astonishing thing to do, I thought, considering the circumstances.

  She turned toward Brazill.

  “Why are you doing this to us?” Erin asked. Her usually calm voice was loud and filled with both fear and uncertainty.

  “Are you trying to be funny?” Brazill asked.

  Clever girl, my inner voice said.

  Chandler stepped through the door.

  “Look what I found,” he said.

  I thought he was referring to the box of vegetables he carried, four plastic bags filled with heroin resting on top for everyone to see. But Randy Bignell-Sax entered right behind him, so …

  “Randy,” Erin said. “Randy, what have you done?” She crossed the foyer in a hurry and slammed both of her fists against Randy’s chest as if he were a door and she wanted it to open. Randy fell backward. She kept pounding. “You brought drugs into my place? You brought drugs into my business?” Randy grabbed both of her wrists to keep from being pummeled. At the same time, Frankie circled Erin’s waist with his arm and pulled her backward. Randy released Erin’s wrists. Frankie swung her around until she was facing Brazill. Erin kept shouting at Randy.

  “You were my friend,” she said. “I trusted you.”

  Brazill laughed.

  “We all make mistakes,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Erin,” Randy said. “I didn’t know who these people were when I first got involved with them. I thought I was just buying vegetables.”

  “You should have said something. You should have told me.”

  “I guess.”

  Brazill laughed some more. Chandler smirked. I gestured with my bruised face at the box he carried.

  “So that’s what heroin looks like,” I said.

  “Sometimes it’s black; sometimes it’s brown,” he said. “I never use the shit myself.”

  Which was exactly the kind of response I was hoping for.

  Erin wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp. The effort made her slide to the floor. She looked up at Brazill.

  “I won’t have anything to do with this,” she said.

  Brazill squatted down in front of her.

  “You’re in the drug business now, bitch,” he said. “Get used to it.”

  Brazill slapped Erin again. She rolled to her side on the floor. Randy said, “Hey.” I stepped forward as if moving to her defense. Frankie set a hand on my chest and shoved to keep me in my place.

  Chandler’s cell phone rang. He handed the box of vegetables and heroin to Randy.

  Perfect, my inner voice said.

  Chandler answered his phone. He listened for a few beats. “Make sure they’re clean,” he said. He ended the call and turned to face Brazill. “They’re here.”

  “It’s going to get pretty crowded,” Brazill said.

  “This way,” I said.

  I moved toward the employee lounge, hoping everyone would follow. I didn’t want them to go into the production plant. There was no audio in the production plant. Along the way, I helped Erin to her feet.

  “What’s happening?” Erin’s voice crackled with emotion. “Why are they doing this to me?”

  “You picked the wrong friends.”

  Brazill chuckled at my remark.

  “Now you know how it feels,” he said.

  I moved Erin to a chair that was far enough away from the door that no one would be suspicious, but with an unobstructed path if we needed to make a run for it. Brazill took charge of a table facing the door, sitting behind it, using it as a desk. Chandler took a position next to him, standing with his hands folded over his belt. Randy stood in the center of the room, still carrying the box. He seemed befuddled.

  Alejandro Reyes stepped inside the foyer. He hesitated for a moment and then started walking toward the employee lounge; Brazill’s people were behind him. I watched them through the door. I’d thought he might bring his entire crew—at least those I saw at Garlough Park in West St. Paul. Instead, Reyes brought the hombre only. His face looked worse than mine. He saw me standing next to Salsa Girl’s chair. He walked straight up and grabbed my chin. He squeezed hard. I let him.

  “Para, hombre,” Reyes said. “We’re not here for that.”

  The hombre pushed my face away.

  “Hablaremos más tarde,” he said, which my high school Spanish translated to mean “We’ll talk later.”

  Not if I can help it, my inner voice said.

  The hombre stepped next to Reyes. Reyes was staring at me when he spoke. “You have something for me?”

  Chandler moved to where Randy was standing and relieved him of the carton. He placed it on a table next to Reyes.

  “Compliments of Mr. Brazill.” Chandler returned to Brazill’s side.

  “I understand this was stolen from you by Mr. Dyson,” Brazill said.

  Thank God he didn’t say McKenzie, my inner voice said.

  “What do you want for it?” Reyes asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then we’ll say gracias, take our property, and leave.”

  Reyes nodded toward the hombre. The hombre moved toward the box. He stopped when Brazill spoke.

  “That might not be wise,” he said.

  “¿Por qué no?” Reyes said.

  “First, let me explain why I am here. I represent a group of serious businessmen based in Chicago.”

  The hombre leaned close to Reyes and whispered in English loud enough for everyone to hear, “Mob.”

  “These businessmen would like to do business with you,” Brazill said.

  “I have no need for partners,” Reyes said.

  “That might not be entirely true. In any case, allow me to explain. The way I understand it, your distribution network has been compromised. I’m in a position not only to restore it but to expand it.”

  “No,” Erin said.

  Reyes was staring at her when he said, “¿Puedes controlar a la puta?”

  “What did he say?” Brazill said.

  “Can you control the whore?” I said.

  Erin glanced up at me.

  “Just trying to move the conversation along,” I told her.

  “Yes, I control the whore,” Brazill said. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “If you want,” Randy said, “I can keep acting as your go-between—for the same price as before.”

  “See,” Brazill said. “Business as usual.”

  “What do you want in return?” Reyes asked.

  “Thirty-five percent.”

  The hombre snorted.

  “Vamos a salir de aquí,” he said.

  Reyes held up his hand. “Wait,” he said.

  “¿Por qué?”

  “Tiene más que decir. You do have more to say, don’t you, Mr. Brazill?”

  “I am in a position to help you expand your business.”

  “How?”

  “By eliminating your competition. In fact, I have already taken the liberty.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I ordered a hit on the Red Dragons.” Brazill made a production out of looking at his watch. “About an hour ago, two vans with sliding side doors pulled up in front of a restaurant in West St. Paul where I am reliably informed that the Dragons enjoy having their dinner. Inside the vans were two .50 caliber machine guns.”

  “Oh, no,” Erin said.

  “They fire 324 r
ounds each without reloading. ’Course, the Dragons didn’t know it was me that opened up on them. They think it was you.”

  “No, no, no…”

  The hombre’s face became red with anger. Reyes was pale.

  “Now, we can go back to Chicago and let you deal with the fallout,” Brazill said. “Or we can join forces to take complete control of not only the heroin trade in Minnesota but OxyContin, too. Once we’ve eliminated the Dragons, that is.”

  “We do not deal in opioids,” Reyes said.

  “We do now.”

  Reyes spoke softly. “I will need to discuss this matter with my associates in Mexico.”

  “Certainly,” Brazill said. “For my part, I recommend that next week we increase the shipment by fifty percent. Yes, six keys of heroin will do nicely, for now. It’s a new world, Alejandro.”

  “Sí.”

  Brazill stood, crossed the room, and shook Reyes’s hand.

  “Sí,” he said again.

  The hombre picked up the carton, and together he and Reyes moved back down the corridor to the front door. Carl and Frankie followed them out.

  Brazill turned toward Chandler.

  “And that’s how it’s done,” he said.

  “How long before we take everything?”

  “We might not. As of now the Mexicans are supplying the dope. Reyes has the runners. To replace both would increase our overhead. It might be more profitable to let them do all the heavy lifting and simply collect a percentage.”

  Brazill moved to where Erin was sitting. He grabbed a fistful of her blond hair and pulled hard. Her face was angled toward his. I thought he was going to force her into a kiss, but he didn’t. At least not yet.

  “Sorry about your friends,” he said.

  “My friends?”

  “The Dragons. It seems they’re not coming to your rescue after all.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know who they are.”

  Brazill yanked Erin’s hair some more. She cried out.

  “Leave her alone,” Randy said. “There’s no need to hurt Erin. I can take care of the drugs. I’m the one who brought them in here in the first place.”

  God bless you, Randy, my inner voice said.

  Brazill kept yanking on Erin’s hair. She kept moaning in pain.

  “Leave her alone,” I said. Randy crossed the room and laid his hand on Brazill’s shoulder. Brazill shook it off. Chandler grabbed Randy and spun him around. He punched Randy very hard in the stomach. Randy folded and dropped to the floor. I knew how he felt.

  “You’re going to need to learn your place, boy,” Brazill said.

  “My family…”

  “What’s he talking about? His family?”

  Down the corridor just inside the front entrance, Carl appeared. He had his gun in his hand, pointing it low. He stared through the glass as if he were looking at something that amazed him.

  “Cops,” he said. He started running down the corridor toward us. “Cops. They’re all over the place.”

  “Cops?” Brazill sounded like he had never heard the word before, had no idea what it meant. He released Erin’s hair and stood straight. “Cops? They shouldn’t be here.”

  I grabbed Erin’s hand, pulled her to her feet, and started running for the door of the employee lounge, dragging her along. We reached the door just as Carl did.

  “Stop them.”

  Carl seemed confused as we approached. It was as if his brain were asking “Did he mean these two?”

  I released Erin’s hand, lowered my undamaged shoulder, came up with an elbow, and hit him just under the chin with the best illegal check I had ever made in a lifetime of playing hockey. He flew up and back against the wall. The force of the blow caused him to drop his piece. It didn’t occur to me to stop and pick it up. I kept running.

  Erin had managed to take the lead. She was two strides in front of me when we reached the foyer. She turned toward the front door and stopped. I nearly ran into her. Frankie stood on the other side of the door. He didn’t seem confused at all as he raised his gun and pointed it at us.

  I pushed Erin toward the left.

  A shot rang out. Only it wasn’t Frankie. Chandler was shooting at us from the entrance to the employee lounge. Darting to the left probably saved my life, because a bullet smashed into the wall on my right where we had been standing.

  There was more shooting, but the bullets sounded far away.

  The shots are coming from outside, my inner voice said.

  This time, Erin took the lead, grabbing my hand and leading us to the door that led to the staging area and production plant beyond. Another shot was fired; the bullet smacked into the door above my head. I didn’t look to see if it was Chandler, Carl, or Frankie who had fired it. I lowered my head and dashed inside the room behind Erin.

  She shouted, “Do you think shooting us will help you now?”

  No one answered.

  I yanked the door shut behind me.

  It wasn’t completely dark; there was light coming through the windows on the far side of the production plant. But my eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so everything appeared black to me. Erin seemed to know exactly where she was going, though. She pulled my hand, and I followed without resistance. We moved slowly, but that didn’t keep me from tripping on the low trough that held the foot bath.

  She led us into the production plant; light glinted off her stainless steel mixing tanks, yet it was still difficult to see. She moved us away from the light toward another door that I didn’t see until she opened it. We were passing through it just as the door leading to the reception area was flung open behind us. Light streamed in.

  “Christine,” Brazill said, “we can still make a deal.”

  Erin carefully closed the door. I didn’t know if Brazill or whoever else was chasing us in the dark noticed, but I assumed they did.

  “You know what kind of deal he wants to make, don’t you?” Erin said.

  We were now standing in the corridor between Erin’s production plant and the outside loading dock.

  “We need to find somewhere to fight,” I said.

  “You are such a guy. What we need is to find someplace to hide.”

  “Here.”

  I moved to the metal cage that contained all of Erin’s chemicals. I opened the cage and pulled out a tall plastic bottle. I opened the bottle and took a whiff. It smelled awful.

  “What are you going to do?” Erin said.

  “Throw it in his face when he comes through the door.”

  “McKenzie, do you think we use dangerous chemicals to clean machinery that makes food?”

  I found a plastic bucket and poured the liquid into it. Behind the door I could hear voices and more shooting. I moved to the door and prepared to throw the liquid on Brazill or any of his henchmen when they came through. Afterward, I planned to attack them and get their guns.

  “Run,” I said. “Find someplace to hide.”

  Erin folded her arms across her chest again and sighed as if she had never heard anything so silly.

  “I’ve had enough of that,” she said.

  I took a deep breath. As if on cue, the door opened quickly. I splashed the liquid on the first shadow I saw.

  “Damn,” someone said.

  I dropped the bucket and leapt forward, catching the attacker in the chest and pushing him against the doorframe. We both fell to the floor. I wrestled with him, groping for his gun.

  “Damn,” he said again.

  I recognized the voice and stopped wrestling.

  “Harry?” I said.

  Lights were turned on. I saw him lying on his back.

  “Harry.”

  He held up his ID like a soccer referee giving me a yellow card.

  “FBI,” he said.

  “I’ll be damned.”

  “Probably, yeah.”

  I helped Harry to his feet. There were several special agents behind us. They were taking Brazill and Chandler into cus
tody.

  Harry gestured at the liquid that covered his face and clothes.

  “What the hell is this?” he said.

  Erin quickly closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. She squeezed tight, her face pressed against his chest.

  “Soap,” she said. “Harry, it’s soap.”

  * * *

  It took us about twenty minutes to move from the corridor to Salsa Girl’s office. She pulled out her bourbon and filled a trio of glasses.

  I had asked before and he had already said yes, but I asked again anyway. “Did you get it?”

  “Crystal-clear audio and video,” Harry said. “Even when it was dark and Chandler went to the truck to get the carton filled with heroin. I must say, Marshall Lantry does very nice work.”

  “It’s legal, right? It’s all admissible?”

  “That’s my understanding.”

  Erin downed her bourbon and poured another. “You guys want some of this?”

  I sure did. Harry hesitated, though. Finally he picked up a glass and took a sip.

  “You’re not seeing this,” he said.

  There was a great deal of movement outside Erin’s window, and lots of lights. The area became even brighter when the TV vans showed up. Someone had drawn a chalk outline around Frankie’s body as well as the hombre’s, but other than that, no one did anything about them. Brazill, Chandler, Carl, Alejandro, and Randy were all cuffed and stuffed into separate vehicles and driven away.

  “Where’s Bobby?” I asked.

  “West St. Paul coordinating with the Westies.”

  “Sonuvabitch. Brazill really did hit the Red Dragons.”

  “Four dead, six wounded is what I heard. You seem surprised. It was all part of your strategy, wasn’t it?”

  “I was hoping when Brazill heard where the Dragons hung out, he’d try to negotiate with them.”

  “C’mon, McKenzie. Who are you kidding?”

  Only yourself, my inner voice said.

  Erin was listening to every word we said but didn’t comment on any of it. She sat in her chair and leaned back, her eyes closed. Harry circled the desk and gazed down at her.

  “I must say, you played your parts perfectly,” Harry said. “Especially you.”

  Erin opened her eyes and looked up at him.

  “All the world is going to see the distressed damsel standing up to the bad-hombre drug dealers,” he said. “You’re a hero.”