Benjamin tucked his gun in the back of his pants and moved to a chair across the room from the old man sitting in an easy chair covered in a plaid blanket. , his curiosity on high. What could this old geezer possibly have to do with Menken?

"What kind of proposal, and how do you know Hardy Menken?"

"That's not important (cough) what matters is, are you willing to help me (cough) remove him from the game?"

"Remove him . . . what game? Menken is a powerful crime boss." Benjamin grinned inside at the last time he'd seen Hardy. Ketchup and rib sauce all over his fancy clothes.

"I propose to take over that position, and I need a clever, reliable lieutenant."

Lieutenant. That was cartel talk. "And just who are you when you're all dressed up?"

"Someone with whom you should be very careful (cough) how you speak."

Benjamin stood, a wry smile on his face. "Right. Nice wasting time with you, pop."

The sound of a chamber loading halted him in his move toward the door, and he turned slowly to see the barrel of a large gun pointed at him.

"It will only be a waste if I have to shoot you . . . sonny (cough)."

Benjamin thought of his own gun in the back of his belt, deciding the odds were not quite in his favour.

"Okay, easy there. That's not the recommended way to employ people. How about some facts - some background I can at least consider."

The gun waved him back to the chair, and Benjamin sat, uncertainly.

"I can tell you that yesterday, you visited the Metro Club and fled with two cars in pursuit after you decorated Hardy Menken and his men with ketchup. And before you speak, I got your plate number from the TV news then tracked it to your company Geterdun Solutions - very tongue in cheek, Mr. Undergrove."

How the hell did he get my name, and what happened to the cough? "Pretty sharp for an old guy. So, do I get to know who you are?"

"I doubt you would be any wiser if I told you."

He considered that, then shrugged. "Okay, but how do I know you aren't just some fruitcake tryin' on a fantasy?"

"Have you ever heard of Don Parco DeTega?"

"Some so-called crime boss somewhere. South America I think."

"Columbia to be precise, and not so-called, but very real, Mr. Undergrove."

"Yeah, okay, what about him?"

"There is a big interest in taking over this city, particularly Menken's special importing business. We find we could make very good use of it by adding an exporting department as well."

"Over Hardy's dead body."

"Exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Turn on the TV news."

Benjamin stood and turned on the TV, messing with the remote until he found a news station. What he heard and saw left him dumbfounded. It happened not long after he left.

"Who did this? All those men, - dead?"

"DeTega sent hit men to take out Menken. Menken's men, the four that got away with you, went back to the club. They all met up with Don Parco's driver, and the shooting began."

"But all of them? They're all dead?"

"As it would seem. So you see, Mr. Undergrove, the business is now there for the taking."

"That would kinda tough with everyone gone. All his records. Contacts. Sources."

"Precisely why I need a lieutenant. You've done business with some of those contacts and sources I'm betting, and you know his headquarters was the Metro Club."

"That place'll be crawling with cops. You won't find anything there now."

"I'm sure a man of your experience could find a way."

"I'm a self-employed specialist, pop, I work alone. Thanks but no thanks."

Benjamin stood again, looking at the gun, then holding his breath turned toward the door.

"You may want to reconsider, Mr. Undergrove."

He turned back and gawped as the mask was stripped off and Benjamin found himself looking at the face of a striking, much younger woman.

"What the hell!?" The blanket was folded away, and he watched a woman rise from the chair.

"Let me introduce myself, Mr. Undergrove. I am Don Parco DeTega, Jefe Madrina of Colombia's major cartel."

"A broad! You telling me you run that cartel?"

"I am, and your designation would have had you diced and fed to the crocodiles, in my country."

"Good thing we aren't there then. Pulling a gun on me would have you wrapped in a rug and dumped in a quarry in my country."

"We are in your country and I did pull a gun on you." She smiled dangerously.

"Yeah . . . well . . ." He looked away, frowning.

Don Parco set her gun down and folded her arms. "Enough posturing, okay? My offer is serious, I am planning on taking over all Menken's business, and I could use a man such as yourself. Money would be no object - and I would be respectful of your experience."

Benjamin studied her, his antennae quivering. "What was with that mask?"

"That was how I came to your country. It was a product of Menken's. I have already enlisted Mr. Shine's co-operation. He will be providing masks for all those we contract to move wherever they wish or need to go."

"Who else is involved here?"

"That is information only a loyal lieutenant would receive." She tilted her head questioningly.

Deep thought pulled his face into different shapes as he considered what it might be like working for a woman - this woman.

"I should add, Mr. Undergrove, that if you decline my offer, it would be severely remiss of me to just let you go."

When he focused attention, he saw she was holding the gun again.

"I'm not fond of threats, Miss Parco."

"It's Don Parco, and be warned, mine are not idle, Mr. Undergrove. My plan is to do this unannounced, remaining in the shadows, so to speak. My lieutenant would be the face of my organization - you, should you accept."

"So I'd be the new Hardy Menken, answering only to you?"

"Enticing, isn't it."

Benjamin stared for a few moments, looking for any clues in her eyes and posture, then he nodded slowly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "If what you tell me about how this will all work, and I approve, you've got a deal. First though, you put the heater away, potential partners need to trust one another."

"Very well, as I said before, I will respect your experience - and you will respect mine."

He held out his hand. "To mutual respect."