Page 61 -- VII.

Chapter Seven: ‘O, truculent fortune...!’
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‘How many guys are there?’

‘I counted forty-three. No, wait. I see another one.’

Hector furrowed his brow at the evening sky. ‘Uh... holy shit... I mean, are you sure I can take forty dudes?’

‘Of course you can. Probably. Oh, hey, it’s that ponytail guy.’

‘Ponytail guy?’

‘You remember. You knocked his teeth out. I’m surprised he’s out of jail already. It’s barely been two days since he was arrested.’

‘Perks of being on Rofal’s payroll, I guess...’

‘Even so, two days is a bit ridiculous. The police force must be more corrupt than we thought. Maybe lawyers, as well.’

Hector eyed the building another time. It didn’t look like a drug den. It looked like a bowling alley. And it probably was, most of the time. The men loitering around the entrance were an indicator, however. They shooed away potential customers, despite the neon sign illuminating the street.

‘Ah,’ Garovel said, ‘looks like Ponytail is here to move the money. Smart. This is probably why the police can’t seem to find any of these cash houses. As soon as they start getting close, I bet someone in the department warns Rofal’s people. Must be why there are so many of them here right now. They seem to be in a hurry. You should probably come introduce yourself now.’

‘Will do.’ He put his mask on and started down the street. The men at the front all stared at him as he passed, and when he circled around toward the back entrance, a few of them broke away to follow him. Several more were already waiting behind the building, alongside a parked truck with its engine running. A circle of Rofal’s muscle grew around him.