Carlos was holding a napkin to his swollen lip when the car phone rang. He had a pretty good idea who it was.

“Yeah?”

“You were supposed to scare them, not shoot them.”

Carlos spat some blood out the window. He pretended it was in Rothchilde’s face.

“The prick sucker punched me.”

“I thought Gino told you to follow my orders exactly. Shall I tell your boss you’re having a listening problem?”

What was with this guy? They were doing him a favor. He could show a little respect. These big business types felt like the whole world should bow at their feet.

“No, Mr. Rothchilde.”

“I’m glad we understand each other. I just dropped them off at Theena’s place. The situation has changed. I want them out of the picture.”

“Out of the picture?”

“Theena and Dr. May have worn out their usefulness to this organization.”

Carlos shook his head. At the first little bump in the road, Rothchilde wanted to whack everybody. And saying this on an open line, yet. Gino must have been making a real mint off of this idiot to keep him around.

“That’s not a smart idea, Mr. Rothchilde. Two FDA agents dead, both on the same case, plus her father and her.”

“We had nothing to do with her father.”

“So? Cops will still look.”

“Let me handle the cops. You just clean out your wop ears and do what you’re told.”

“I’m Cuban.”

Rothchilde went off on a yelling jag, and Carlos hung up. He looked at Franco, who was clutching an ice pack between his legs.

“He wants us to take out the Doc and the girl.”

Franco smiled.

“Good. I’ll enjoy snuffing that guy. And the girl will make a yummy dessert.”

Carlos frowned. He didn’t like the way any of this was going. He decided to call Gino.

“Whaddaya want?”

“Gino, it’s Carlos.”

“No shit. You see that big bright display on your phone? It’s called Caller fucking ID.”

No respect. Didn’t anyone see the movie Scarface? Now Pacino, he had respect. Maybe it was just this generation. Carlos had worked for Gino’s father, years ago. That man respected everyone who worked for him, and he got that respect back. Carlos would have taken a bullet for him. He wouldn’t take a mosquito bite for Gino.

“He wants us to take the doc and the girl out.”

“Jesus. That guy. Okay, you do it, make sure it don’t get back to me. I don’t want it to look like a hit. Maybe a robbery. Or some crazy killer Charlie Manson thing. Messy. Franco is good at that psycho shit.”

Carlos sighed. It kept getting better and better.

“You got it, boss.”

Gino hung up.

“We gonna do it?” Franco was practically drooling.

“Yeah. We have to make it look messy.”

“I like messy. We need to stop at the store for supplies.”

Carlos kept a box of disposable latex gloves in the trunk. He also had duct tape, carving knives, and some butcher’s aprons, along with his disguise. The tools of the wet trade.

“We’re set.”

“You got rubbers, too?”

“Rubbers?”

“Make it messy, right?”

“Jesus, Franco.”

Maybe it was this generation. Carlos suspected MTV had a lot to do with it.

“Stop at that place on Damon. They sell the extra large kind.”

Carlos pointed the car east.