They turned a corner. Ahead Nick saw several blocks of tall apartment buildings. The street was lined with shops and taverns. Two blocks ahead, four young men in colorful windbreakers were just entering a bar. One was wearing a knit cap.

“That’s them,” Nick said. “Let’s get that money before they spend it!”

Aleksandr, unimaginative as he was, seemed suddenly excited at the prospect of the chase. He picked up his pace as they approached the bar, but Nick stopped him before he could pull open the door.

“Hold on. Do you know if this place has a back door?”

“Da. Most places do.”

“Okay, I need you to come in the back. I’ll go in the front and take these fuckers down.”

“You! Why you?”

“Because I’m a specialist, remember? This is what I do.”

The big man scowled and chewed his lip, but didn’t pursue it.

“You can handle them?”

“They’re punks. I eat punks for breakfast.”

Aleksandr stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. He clapped Nick on the shoulder.

“Funny, Russo! First funny thing you ever say!” He guffawed again. “Eat punk for breakfast! Funny!”

He turned and trotted around the corner, looking for the back door.

Back