Butch and Daryl sat in the restaurant across from their office watching as the police car drove slowly away from the curb. After waiting for an hour outside the Howden Hotel with no success, they decided to go back to their office and regroup. That's when they saw the police talking to the building manager and they skipped across to the coffee shop.

"How do you suppose they got onto us, Daryl?"

"They're cops. It's what they do."

"But how?" Butch repeated, annoyed.

"Well, I guess they either got that mountain man to say something—" Butch shook his head. "—or your stunning Miss Bondra Croft—" Butch bared his teeth. "—or the neighbour who was standing in the hall when we ran out, holding our sore and bleeding heads, mentioned that fact to the police and they just checked around town for two guys showing up for medical treatment." Daryl sighed in disgust.

"Why can't you be so goddamn smart when we're on the job?"

"Because we have you to make all our decisions, Butch." Daryl picked up a menu and began thumbing through it.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm decidin' this then. We are definitely not taking time to eat, we are going to go back to that hotel and shake that wiseass bartender until he gives us Wallace. Then, Daryl, we will take the money we get from Wallace and we will deliver it to Bondra Croft by eight o'clock tonight and then we will have that very long talk I mentioned the other day."

Daryl sat back in surprise. "You said all that without stoppin' for a breath!"

"D-a-r-y-l-l-l, I'm warning you!"

*****

Breakfast was as dissatisfying and bleak as the previous night's dinner. Walter turned the pages of the newspaper without really seeing the copy, his mind tortured by the pressure of his dilemma. Dodging Bernie could only go on so long, yet, if he didn't keep him at bay until the money was found he would be a dead man. He stood and took his dishes to the sink, frowning at the mess. Ever since his wife had left after catching him thrashing with Bondra on the bedroom patio on her new designer duvet, he had struggled with the demands of domesticity to the point where, once a week a woman came in and cleaned it all up until her next visit. The kitschy, cuckoo clock they had brought back from a trip to Europe, when times were still happy and exciting, began its melodic announcement that the time was one o'clock. Walter checked his watch and cursed. Where had the morning gone? He had to start getting some work done or there would be no place to go to do any work. Did he dare go into his office? What if the Toto returned? He hurried upstairs, washed, and dressed, skimming his chin with his electric razor as he came back down.

      When he heard the vehicle pull into the drive he hurried to the window, groaning aloud as he saw Toto emerge like the Michelin Man from the driver's side of the large van. How did he find his home? Sweat began an uncomfortable march down his sides, watching the huge man lumber up the walk to the door. Not a sound. Do not make one sound, he cautioned himself. The door chimes rang with a tinkling innocence—once—and then once again, then the knocker sounded, lightly at first, growing in intensity until he squealed aloud as the frame split and Toto burst into the front hall, still holding the brass knocker by his side.

"Hi Mister Jaeger. Mr. Bonducci said I had to come back and have a little talk with you. Turns out you fibbed to me about your partner getting the money." He glanced down at the knocker, moving it behind his back. "Uh, sorry about the door."

      Walter stared helplessly at the raw red skin of the man's face and the plaster patch on one cheek. This was to be his final memory? God help me, he begged silently. "Listen I- I didn't fib, Mister Toto, my partner was picking up the money when some goon broke in and started beating up everyone in sight, she only escaped by outwitting the dummy and spraying his fa-c-e... w-i-t-h... oh my." Too late, Walter realized his error and sagged against the back of an expensive, Queen Anne chair. "Toto, look..." His voice rasped, and he coughed to try to clear it. "I only need until the end of the week, can't you tell Bernie that...make him understand? I swear, everything will be paid in full, I just need these few more days." Toto set the broken knocker carefully on an end table by the sofa and moved slowly toward him.

"Please. I'm good for this. Give me a brea- some time, please, Toto."

"If it was up to me, Mister Jaeger, I'd probably do it, but..." One huge fist curled into a ball the size of a globe.

He held up his hands in desperation. "Toto, for God's sake, if you pound me to dust, I'll never be able to pay." A thoughtful look crossed the wide expanse of face, and for a moment, Walter thought he'd struck a chord.

"Mr. Bonducci gave me my orders, sir, I'm sorry." He stepped closer and froze as a voice from the hall yelled.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Bondra stepped over the shattered door and faced the two men, hands on hips.

"Bondra! Thank God!" Walter sidestepped Toto and ran to his partner, positioning himself to the side and a little behind her. "He wants the money and he wants to beat it out of me. He just broke in here and- and..."

Toto gave Walter a very sad, disappointed look and wagged his huge head, turning his attention to Bondra. "Gee, I didn't think I'd get another chance at you so soon."."

Bondra fumbled in her purse for her cell phone. "Don't you come near me. I'm calling the police."

"NO!" Both men shouted at once, and with astonishing speed, Toto grabbed her by the waist and stood her aside as he rushed toward Walter. The blow was quick and powerful, and Bondra, screaming into her phone for help, gaped as he vanished down the hall, feet at eye level. Toto turned and gave her stark look, pointing a log of a finger at her as he scooted out the front door, down to his van and out of the drive with a squeal of tires.

"Walter?" She tiptoed toward the hall, leaning cautiously around the corner of the living room. "Walter?"

"Mmmmnnhooaaah..." He lay grotesquely across a shattered telephone table, blood streaming from his bent nose.

"Are you okay? I came to ask you about something." She hunkered down beside him, shifting pieces of the broken table out of the way. "If I can get Bernie some his money back and convince him to leave us alone, will you step down as senior partner and recommend me instead?" She couldn't tell if he was crying from the pain, relief, or her demand.

*****

Bernie splashed another extra large dollop of whiskey into his glass and immediately drained it, clenching his teeth and squinting as the fiery liquid drilled a hole to his stomach. He moved with tender care over to the picture window framing a spectacular view of the city and its lights, twinkling like coloured gems against the black, night sky. He sipped at the dregs from his glass and mused about Toto, about the absolute paradox of such a huge body housing such a miniscule brain. Finally, he turned to face the giant, sitting bewildered on the sofa, filling it as if it was a single chair.

      "Toto, the prime objective of your mission originally was to get my money from Jaeger. The beating part, that was good. A beating was called for so that was good, but getting the money, well Toto, that was really important, don't you see."

The big man pursed his tiny lips together and canted his head slightly. "But boss, the man's partner came in and called the cops. I mean... you wouldn't want me to be doing anything when the cops came would you?"

Bernie bit his lip. "You mean aside from wrecking his house and breaking his nose? Good heavens no, Toto." Bernie turned a fired his empty glass against a framed print of Picasso's Don Quixote, sending tiny shards of glass spinning through the air into the carpet and drapes. "I DON"T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO KILL THE STUPID BROAD OR ANYONE ELSE THAT GETS IN THE WAY! I – WANT – MY - MONEY!"

      The big man dropped his head and pouted at his employer's rage, and then he hoisted himself off the sofa and heaved a mighty sigh. "Sorry I let you down boss, it won't happen again. I'll go and get your money. Thanks for not using the gun like you said."

Bernie had stepped back, unsure as to the monolithic man's intention, then hearing his apology, asserted himself once again—less stridently. "Okay Toto, okay. Sorry about the outburst. Just get on your way and clean this thing up pronto."

"I'm on it, Boss. A couple of our contacts called in with word about the other two bozos at the condo. I've got a name and address."

"Toto, I don't want a report, okay? I want act—" The jangle of the phone broke the impending explosion and Toto beat a path to the door. "What."

"Mister Bonducci, this is Bondra Croft. I have an offer to make that I think will satisfy all concerned and put a stop to the needless strong-arm tactics." She waited, listening to the laboured breathing on the line. "Mister Bonducci?"

When he answered, it was with quiet venom. "You listen to me, lady, there is no offer you could make that would change what I'm gonna do when I get my hands on you."

"So your money isn't important anymore?" The unperturbed tone of her question stopped him short. "Well? Is it or isn't it?"

      Bernie eased himself into his chair and fiddled with the pen on his desk. "Money always interests me," he tried for a little bravado.

"I'm speaking of your quarter million dollars, not any money."

He didn't like the way the call was going; she was too much in control. "Have you got it?"

"So you are interested then?"

"YES! I'm interested, okay? Make your offer, bitch, maybe I won't kill you as slowly as I planned."

"Please don't shout, Mister Bonducci, it makes my tape recorder hiss." Bondra punched a fist in the air and waited for the explosion.

"Ta-pe rec-ord..." The words dribbled into the receiver and then there was silence. Bernie stared wild-eyed at the phone, his mouth moving in silent protest.

"Should have stuck to your rule about business on the phone, Bernie. I think you should listen to my offer now," Bondra said smugly.

*****

Wallace stared at the bag of money with dismay, feeling a massive headache buildup behind his eyes. When they finally decided that calling Bondra was the best way to go, Rory tossed a wrench into the works by asking if we considered where the money came from in the first place. He reasoned that if the Bondra woman needed that kind of money and didn't get it through a legitimate channel, it must have been to cover something that was not quite kosher. Rory felt the best solution was to go to Houseman and come one hundred percent clean.

"I'd have to give up my five thousand," Nora still sounded reluctant.

"Shall I reiterate the alternatives?"

"Don't bother. He's right, Nora, if the money is bad to begin with, taking any part of it puts you smack in the middle and from what we've seen and heard..." Wallace held up his hands in surrender. "Houseman seemed like a pretty good guy, I think he'll listen objectively to our story."

"Problem is, there really hasn't been a crime committed," Rory argued. "Unless trashing your place counts."

"Maybe not, but it would get Houseman asking questions of this Bondra about the money and why she hired Nora to do that conspiratorial switch with those P.I.s."

      A buzzing noise sounded and Rory looked to the little box on the wall.

"What's that?"

"A signal from my helper. Somebody just came in that he thinks I should know about." Rory started for the door. "Stay put until I see what this is about."

Seated on adjacent stools when he arrived back at the bar, Butch and Daryl both smiled, politely ordering two beers.

"Gentlemen. Miss me, did you?"

"Where's Wallace?" Butch took a long pull on his drink, keeping his eyes on Rory's.

"Wow! Will he ever come to the point." Rory gave him stare for stare.

"Don't start up again, Sport. Just tell us where to find Wallace and we're outta your hair."

"I thought we already had this conversation."

"You wanna play tough, Shortchange?" Daryl rose up from his stool, pushing his glass aside.

      Rory fingered the hardwood club hanging in a bracket just below the bar. "If you're smart, you'll reign in your pit bull friend," he said, watching Daryl.

Butch put a restraining hand on Daryl's arm and leaned toward Rory. "Nobody wants a fight here. Just tell us where to find Wallace and we're gone. We know you know, so let's stop wastin' time."

Rory looked at them both and smiled. "If you want to know, you have to give his socks back first." His smile turned to a grin as both faces flushed with anger.

Daryl popped back up and hauled off with an intended haymaker only to smash his fist painfully into the club that magically appeared in Rory's hand.

"Owwww! Jesus H. Christ!" He staggered away from the bar, squeezing his hand between his thighs and moaning loudly.

"I warned you. Now take your pal and get."

      Butch shoved his glass off the bar, smashing it on Rory's platform and stomped out, leaving Daryl hopping about in noisy misery.

"What was all the racket?" Wallace asked, as Rory entered the room.

"Your two P.I. pals. They're still determined to find you."

"Yeah, but what was the yelling?"

Rory slitted his eyes and stuck out his chin. "I took 'em out wit one punch. Ya shoulda seen me, Wallace, I coulda bin a contenduh."

"Was that Marlon Br—" Nora began.

"Don't! Don't even pretend to recognize his impressions or we will never get out of here again."

"She knew! She recognized right aw—"

"No! She didn't, Rory. She was going to say, Mister Magoo."

"Bullshit!"

"Could we stop being kids for a minute and get back to the matter at hand." Nora rolled her eyes at the two men.

"Grab that bag, Nora. We're going to see Houseman."

*****

Bondra covered the mouthpiece while she swore and stamped her feet on the thick broadloom of her office. Just when she had victory in her grasp... "Bernie, you've got to find a way to stop him."

"Try standing in front of a train, lady." Bernie's dejected response warned her that he might not be of much use any more.

"He'll ruin everything!"

"You mean, everything else."

"Oh grow up! I told you that if you agreed to my deal none of this would get out. I still intend to see this through, Bernie, so you'd better get on side unless you want to hear yourself on the six o'clock news."

"One of these days, Bondra—"

"Save it. I hear there's a bartender in town that does a better Jackie Gleason than that. You just listen to me. If your mobile mountain isn't reigned in by tonight and he messes things up, you'll be starring in your own reality show."

"What happened to the six o'clock news?" Bernie sneered down the wire.

"TONIGHT, BONDUCCI!" She slammed her phone down, cracking the plastic receiver nest with the impact.

      Bernie massaged his ear and sat staring at the phone. How could he stop Toto now? The fact was, he couldn't. Changing his mind would have little effect. He had berated the man so much that to stop him would be like plugging the leak in the Hindenburg. Bernie pounded his fist on the desk in frustration. There was a way, he thought, rubbing his sore hand, maybe the only way. He picked up the phone and dialed a number he'd used only a few times before.

*****

Wallace and Nora drafted a quick plan of action with Rory before preparing themselves to face Houseman. Rory would keep the money safe until they were certain that they would be safe themselves, and at the right time, turn it over to the police. If he didn't hear from them before late afternoon, he was to contact Houseman himself. They gathered their stuff and slipped out of the hotel through the kitchen to the parking lot and around to Nora's car.

"Oh shit."

"What?"

"We're screwed."

"Why? Wha- ohhhh."

Toto stood beside the small car, one arm resting comfortably on the roof. Inside, they could see the forlorn faces of the two private detectives.

"I don't think running is an option, Nora."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. Look at the size of that man!"

"Mister Wallace, I presume." Toto's voice surged across the short distance between them like a Tsunami, washing them both in a wave of anxiety. "We have something to discuss so please, don't make things difficult. I've already had a very difficult few days." He indicated the raw skin around his eyes and the large bandage on his face with expected sympathy.

      The ride in the large van was most uncomfortable. Wallace was anchored in the rear behind a seat belt along with Butch and Daryl, who moaned and complained constantly about his broken hand, and Nora was similarly fastened in the front passenger seat by herself. Seems Toto was somewhat of a gentleman, Wallace mused, trying to block out Daryl's complaints.

"Where are you taking us?"

"You'll see."

"Then, why are you taking us?"

Wallace saw a massive eye fill the rear view mirror. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not. I don't know what this is about. All I know is that these two trashed my condo and you somehow destroyed my bathroom."

"And of course you never even heard of any money."

"Money?" Wallace tried to sound confused. "I don't know anything about any—"

"Please. The young lady here knows about it, don't you, Miss? And since you two have been so cozy lately, I think she probably mentioned something about it to you." Toto took a hard left, shifting the three men to one crushing side of the van. Darly yelped in shock as his hand was squeezed between his knees.

"Oh that money." The eye in the mirror creased in a smile. "Actually, these guys got it from us already," Wallace said, suddenly inspired.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Sure," he continued, excited with his spontaneous idea. "They got it from my condo along with that Bondra woman."

      Butch began to sputter and swear, trying to yank his hands free of the tight restraint. "Lies! Liar! Miss Croft never took the money from your condo!"

"Okay," Wallace shrugged. "Then you kept it."

"WHAT! He's lying! You were there. There was no money! Tell him, Daryl!"

"Arrgh, my hand, my hand." Darly tried to force his knees apart to free his trapped hand.

"Forget you're your goddamn hand, Daryl, tell him about the money!"

"I was there, Mister Wallace, and I didn't see any money." Toto said calmly.

"They hid it on the balcony," Nora spoke up, reinforcing the lie.

"You- you-" Butch tried to lean forward and butt her with his head. "She's lying for Christ's sake! If we had the money why would we be chasing after these two?"

"Good point." Toto nodded sagely.

"Because they also wanted Nora's five thousand for the switch," Wallace answered quickly.

"Huh? Five thousand?" Daryl's hand was suddenly forgotten. "You got five thousand dollars for making that switch in the mall?" He turned an ugly glare on his partner.

"Daryl, I told you we would also be getting a percentage from any new business," Butch began defensively.

"What you told me, you asshole, was we would split eight hundred bucks!"

      The van shuddered to a stop in a cloud of dust and Toto was quickly outside, opening the sliding door and hauling his hostages out onto the dusty lot. Nora was allowed to disembark by herself. He herded them all toward a large deserted building, shoving them inside and lifting a huge sheet of metal over to block the entrance.

"Now, who's gonna be first?"

They all looked at one another. "First for what?" Wallace ventured.

"First to get pounded into paste until somebody comes up with the money."

"We don't have the money!" Butch yelled desperately.

"He said you did, and so did she."

"Can't you see they're lying?" Butch jigged up and down on the spot. "Daryl, help me here." He turned to his partner.

"I don't know any more."

"DARYL! What are you saying? He doesn't know what he's saying" Butch was close to tears.

"Guess you're first," Toto said stepping toward Butch.

"No! Jesus, no! Tell him! Tell him I don't have the money. Please!"

"Mister Argyle?" Toto stopped and turned slowly toward Nora. "Mister Argyle, I'm truly sorry about this." She stood aiming a small can at his head."

"Aaahhh no, Miss Hill. Not you too?"

"Woman doesn't leave home without one," Nora said, depressing the nozzle and jetting a stream of Mace into Toto's face, scalding the already raw skin around his eyes.

      The roar was deafening, bringing dust and bits of debris down from the exposed wooden beams above. Toto plunged blindly around until he crashed loudly into the sheet of steel over the entrance, buckling it and knocking it aside.

Wallace quickly grabbed Nora's hand, wearing a large relieved grin, and dragged her unceremoniously out of the building. "C'mon, run for it! That was beautiful back there," He beamed as they dashed for the van.

"We're not out of the woods yet," she said, looking over her shoulder. Butch and Daryl were loping after them with an uncomfortable lack of concern.

"You probably wished you'd stopped for these," Butch sneered, holding up the keys to the van.

      Once more secured inside the van, Wallace and Nora listened to the two detectives fight and argue all the way across town where Butch pulled to a stop in front of a large office tower.

"We're goin' up to see your employer, girlie, and if there's any funny stuff this time Daryl here is gonna come down hard." Daryl gave him a dirty look and climbed out of the van.

"Out." He said to Nora, taking her roughly by the arm.

They paraded through the lobby and over to the elevators, stopped immediately by a burly security guard with spiky red hair.

"Hold it folks, building's closed for business. It's after five." He tapped his wristwatch for emphasis.

"We're meeting Miss Croft up at JCD&S." Butch said, pushing the button.

"I'm going to have to call up first. You folks wait right there." The guard lumbered off as the elevator arrived and Butch shoved everyone inside.

      Bondra Croft looked pale and nervous as she hung up the phone. The group herded into the anteroom and Butch went immediately to the desk.

"Miss Croft, are you all right? Was that the guard? I'm sorry we didn't wait for his call but I felt it was urgent to bring these two up here so that you could... Miss Croft?" Butch watched Bondra lean on the desk for support, then lower herself into a chair. "Bondra?" Butch forgot his place and ran around to comfort the stricken looking woman.

"That'll be enough drama, people." They jerked around as one to face the speaker, a short, tidy man wearing tinted shades and holding one of the largest guns Wallace had ever seen. "All of you, over there on the couch. You too, Doctor Do Good." Butch reluctantly released his arm from Bondra's shoulder and joined the others on the couch facing the desk.

"Who are you?" Nora asked.

"Sal Bolero. At your service, sweetheart." The man flashed a brilliant smile and sat on the edge of the desk. "Miss Croft and I were just going to have a heart to heart, but now that the gang's all here, why don't we all introduce ourselves and then we can cut to the chase." They gawked in disbelief as Sal screwed a huge tube on the end of the gun barrel.

"Wh- what's that for?" Butch asked, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"It's called a silencer. When you fire the gun, the pressure from the—"

"I think he meant, why are you putting it on you gun now?" Wallace glanced nervously at Nora.

"And you are?"

"Wallace. Christopher Wallace."

"Pleasure Christopher. The young lady?"

"Nora Hill," she answered softly.

"How about you two?" Sal tilted the giant muzzle toward the detectives

"Bernard Wiggens of Wiggens and DeFoe. This is my partner—"

"Screw you, asshole." Darly snarled.

"An unusual name for a partner," Sal said, calmly walking over to Daryl and clubbing his broken hand with the barrel of the gun. Daryl shrieked with pain and slid off the couch onto the floor, cradling his smashed hand against his chest. "Wiggens and DeFoe, is that a law firm?"

Butch gaped at his partner and felt his head lighten as he tried to respond.

"N-n-n-o. Private detectives."

      Sal spun and smiled at Bondra who still just sat at the desk, wearing a glazed expression. "Bondra, do these two work for you? I'm disappointed, I thought you were more discriminating." He turned back to the others. "Bondra here had a plan to blackmail my client with a telephone tape recording." He patted his coat pocket, educating each of them to the fact that the recording was now in his possession. "Now in my business, that's just not done to someone of my client's stature." He looked down at Daryl, who was blubbering and groaning loudly, and placed a sharp, precise kick to the side of his head. "It's so difficult to concentrate with that kind of thing going on."

"What are you going to do with us?" Nora asked.

"Well, Miss Hill, I would have preferred none of you coming here today. My business was with Bondra. Now, well, now I'll just have to improvise."

"What if we get you the money?" Wallace asked.

"The money?"

"Yeah, the money that your client wants so badly. The money that got lost in the mistaken switch."

"Well now you see, there's what I mean about having you people all barging in here like this. I don't know anything about any money or any switch. I'm simply here to render a little justice for my client."

"B-by k-k-killing us?" Butch whined.

"Yes, actually. Although, you folks weren't originally part of the plan." Sal offered a shrug as an apology.

"But if you get your client's money back, can't we just forget all the rest?"

      The desk phone rang and before Sal could stop her, Bondra automatically answered, listening and then simply saying, fine, and hanging up.

"You shouldn't have done that, Bondra. Who was it?" Sal moved over to her chair and took a handful of her hair. "Who-was-it?"

"It was me, Sal." Toto barged through the office door, dropping the large body of the security guard on the carpet with a loud thump. He raked his teary red eyes over the group on the couch, pausing for a beat on Daryl's inert form and then back to Nora before addressing Sal. "Mister B. sent me to get his money and to teach this lot a lesson they wouldn't forget."

"Toto," Sal smiled. "What on earth did you do to your face?"

"Let her go, Sal. I need to find out about the money before you do your thing."

"Toto, Bernie never said anything to me about money. He just said to get here quick, get his tape recording and do the broad. The only reason I'm not done and out of here is this bunch."

"I'll take care of them," Toto growled. "But I need her to find the money."

"Maybe not. Christopher here offered to get it for me in exchange for their lives."

Toto turned and walked to tower over Christopher. "That true?"

"Uhhh...yes." Wallace watched Sal place the muzzle of the gun next to Bondra's head. "But you're right, I have to have Bondra alive to get it."

      Sal paused and Bondra's eyes seemed to click into an alert mode. "Oh no, pal. Toto can't you see this guy is jerking your chain?" His displeasure was rapidly increasing.

"No! It's true. I- she- we hid it where it takes both of us to get it back."

Butch stood, doubt scrawled across his face. "When did this happen? I don't believe a word of it. Bondra?"

Her mouth fell open at the stupidity of the man and she searched Wallace's face for help.

"You were busy getting patched at that clinic," Wallace improvised. "We contacted Bondra after she got away from you, Mister Argyle, and made a deal. She wanted to try something on her own first, I didn't know what it was, so we came up with our little double safety plan."

      Sal increased the pressure on the gun barrel. "Tell me if that's true, Bondra." She nodded slowly, her eyes closing briefly in hope and relief.

"Fine," Toto said, pointing to Nora. "Sal, you keep little Miss Muffet here until I call that we got the dough, then you can get on with your business. I'll deliver them all back here when we're done."

"You know, Toto, I really don't like this idea much. I was told to do the broad and that's what I'm going to—"

"Hewo? Hewo? Anybody up here? Bondwa?"

"Jesus, now what?" Sal stomped across the room and over to the door. Walter stopped midway through the office, touching the plaster over his nose and appraising the stranger.

"Who might you be, sir?" He demanded, trying to look past his shoulder.

"That's the guy that owed Bernie the dough," Toto said, peering over Sal's head.

Walter blanched at the sight and turned to run. The snick of Sal's gun was barely heard, but the crash of Walter falling into and through the office water cooler was deafening. Glass pieces flew everywhere and the full tank of water emptied across the room in a small tidal wave, rolling Walter's lifeless form with it.

"My shoes!" Sal turned and bumped into Toto. "Get outta the way, my shoes are getting soaked."

      Toto reached own and grasped the gun, twisting it rapidly through Sal's snapping fingers. Then he tossed it aside and grabbed Sal by the neck, dragging him back into the room with the others.

Nora's cell phone fell along with her blood pressure; she had barely managed to hit nine-one-one without speaking before Toto returned carrying a gagging Sal like a child's toy. Toto growled deep in his tank-like chest and drove Sal's head into the corner of the desk with a sickening crunch.

"No more Mister Nice Guy." He swung around to face a deflated Bondra, her attention on the soaked figure sprawled in the outer office. "The money." He snarled.

"I told you," Wallace shouted. "It will take both of us to retrieve it."

"Then let's go."

*****

The nine-one-one call was received at the same time as Rory's decision to contact Houseman. When the response team established the address from the open line and alerted the various departments, the detective recognized it as the office of Bondra Croft, the woman that Rory had described as the one who arranged for the money switch that started the whole messy investigation. With his partner and a pair of uniforms, Houseman led the race to the office tower.

      Toto carried Nora under one arm and Butch under the other and followed Wallace and Bondra across the sopping carpet, past Walter Jeager's body, and out to the elevators. Butch whimpered continually and Toto bumped his head against the wall with an angry warning. The elevator arrived and they crowded on just as the security guard staggered out of the office, shouting at them to halt. The doors closed and the elevator descended slowly from the thirtieth floor. It stopped at the nineteenth and the doors opened to the startled face of a cleaning lady with a large cart laden with supplies.

"Catch the next one," Toto thundered, ramming a sausage thumb against the 'Door Close' button.

      Houseman hung up the security phone in the lobby and signaled his team to spread out. "A guard on the thirtieth floor says they're on their way down in the first elevator. There's five of them, but he says we won't have any trouble missing the bad guy—it's King Kong."

"Argyle?" His partner asked. Houseman nodded. "This will not be easy with just four of us."

Again Houseman nodded. "If we have to, take him down by the legs," he called to the uniforms. "Shooting this guy in the body is a waste of ammunition." They positioned themselves and held their breath.    

The elevator doors opened and Bondra, followed by Wallace, and Toto, still carrying Butch and Nora, stepped into the foyer. Over anxious, one of the uniforms yelled for everyone to freeze, which was definitely not the action of choice. Bondra began running for the front lobby, screaming for help while Toto threw Nora into Wallace, knocking them both into an ornate waste receptacle stationed between the elevator bays. With Butch held up in front like a large hand puppet, Toto roared at the police to back off or he would finish his captive off. Henderson swore when the patrolman shouted and sent his partner to cut Bondra off before she reached the street then he stepped out and leveled his weapon at the approaching Toto.

"Let's not do this the hard way, Argyle. Put that man down and give it up."

Toto stopped and watched the two uniforms begin circling to his right. "I don't seem to have a great deal of choice, detective," he said with calm and clarity. "Your men will no doubt begin shooting at a moment's notice."

"Not if you stop now." Houseman edged closer.

      The shot went through Butch's side and struck Toto in the stomach. Houseman spun around to see Bondra marching toward them, his partner's gun clenched in front of her. The other detective lay groaning by the front doors, a victim of Bondra's Celtic dance training. Another shot echoed in the marble lobby, chipping a large chunk of plaster from the wall near Nora and Wallace.

"Drop that weapon, Miss Croft!" Houseman yelled, directing his attention to the new problem. In an instant a flailing Butch who was screaming and bleeding profusely was slammed to the floor. After throwing Butch aside, Toto put on a remarkable burst of speed and thundered toward Bondra, swatting at the fusillade of shots as if at angry bees. The smack of bullets hitting the huge frame increased as the uniforms began their attack from the rear. Houseman, freeing himself from Butch, was screaming for a cease fire and finally, when it stopped, Toto had powered his way through the front doors and onto the sidewalk, crushing a passing law intern returning from a late lunch. His bullet riddled body seemed to deflate before the gathering crowd.

      Inside, Bondra lay twisted beside the injured detective, her once beautiful features stained with an ugly gash over one eye and her expensive suit splattered from bits of the raging Toto when he roared past. Houseman was berating the uniforms and ordering them to arrest everyone and get a wagon down to take them away; Wallace figured later would be better to plead his case.