Big Trouble

"I mean get rid of the loose ends," said Snake. "Now go find us some rope."

Agent Greer, with John preceding him, came out of the back room of the Jolly Jackal, shaking his head.

"It's not there," he said to Agent Seitz. "They got enough stuff back there to fight a war with North Korea, but no suitcase. Ivan here says he doesn't know what suitcase I'm talking about."

"Is that right, Ivan?" asked Seitz.

John nodded.

"Are you maybe thinking that you could use the suitcase as, like, a bargaining chip?" said Seitz. "Like, we want it so bad that we work out some kind of deal with you, like you tell us where it is, and we go easy on you? Maybe even just deport you back to Russia? Is that what you're maybe thinking?"

John said nothing. But that was, in fact, exactly what he had been thinking.

"Hmmm," said Seitz, frowning. "What do you think, Agent Greer?"

"Hmmm," said Greer, also frowning. "What do you think, Agent Seitz?"

"I think," said Seitz, pausing a moment, "nah." Without moving from the bar stool, he shot John in the foot. He was an excellent shot.

John fell to the floor screaming. He grabbed his shoe, which was oozing blood from holes on both the top and the bottom.

"Don't be a baby, Ivan," said Greer, looking down. "It's just your foot."

"It's what we at the Bureau call an 'extremity shot,' " explained Seitz. "Generally, the victim survives. They don't do so good with what we call a 'torso shot.' "

Greer, bending down to the writhing figure on the floor, said, "What do you think, Ivan? You want to experience a torso shot?"

John, through gritted teeth, said, "I tell you who has suitcase."

Greer looked at Seitz and said, "I love Special Executive Order 768 dash 4."

Roger the dog crouched on the patio, his nose thirty inches from the Enemy Toad. The toad was sitting in Roger's dish, munching on Roger's kibble, and Roger was growling at it. This had been going on for more than two hours, but Roger was not bored. Growling at the toad was a big part of his day.

Roger's head snapped up when he heard the sound of something scraping against the fence at the far end of the yard. The sound meant that there was an intruder, and to Roger, that meant only one thing: There might be food. In an instant he had left the toad and was hurtling through the underbrush, a hungry, hairy bullet.

Eddie couldn't find any rope, so, at Snake's instruction, he went around the living room, dining room, family room, and kitchen and ripped out the cords to the telephones, which Snake didn't want working anyway. He brought the cords into the living room, where Snake had Anna and Jenny still on the couch, and Puggy and Arthur sitting on the floor next to Matt, whose face was red and whose nose was bleeding about as much as the last time he'd been over to the Herk household, when Anna had punched him out.

"OK," said Snake, gesturing at the three men on the floor. 'Tie 'em up."

Eddie, looking uncertain, went over and stood behind Matt.

"What kinda knot?" he asked Snake.

"Whaddya mean, what kinda knot?" said Snake. "Just tie 'em the fuck up."

"OK," said Eddie, "but I ain't no damn Boy Scout. All's I know is the square knot and the whaddyacallit, the bowman. Which one you want?"

"JUST TIE 'EM UP," said Snake. He had decided that, once he got established as a kingpin in the Bahamas, he was definitely going to get a better class of henchman.

Leonard, definitely feeling the second order of spaghetti and sausage he'd had for dinner, grunted as he heaved his body over the wall at the back of the Herk property. He dropped to the ground next to Henry, who was peering up into the big tree.

"You lookin' for Tarzan?" asked Leonard. "He's inna house, right?"

"I'm thinking maybe my rifle is up there," said Henry. "Looks like there's some kind of platform up there, where he jumped from."

Leonard looked up into the tree and said, "Why the fuck would he—OOOM!"

Roger had just given Leonard a traditional hearty dog welcome, which consisted of rocketing headfirst into Leonard's groin, knocking him backward and down.

"Get away from me, dammit!" said Leonard, unsuccessfully trying to fend off Roger, who had detected several residual atoms of marinara sauce on Leonard's chin and was frantically trying to lick them off before some rival dog found them. "Henry, get him offme!"

Henry grabbed Roger by the collar and lifted him off Leonard. This did not cause Roger any physical discomfort, as Roger was basically a large fur-covered muscle controlled by a brain the size of a Raisinet. In fact, Roger was delighted: Another person was here! Maybe this one had food!

"Get down, dammit," said Henry, trying to push the dog away, wondering if maybe he would have to shoot it. Suddenly, Roger's head snapped up. He had detected something that Henry and Leonard could not hear at this distance: the intercom buzzer! Roger knew that sound; it meant somebody was here. And whoever it was might have food. As suddenly as he had appeared, Roger went rocketing back toward the house.