SS:TIE 003

Rey shakes her head. Chica flips her Beretta to hold it by the barrel. The gun is all metal and weighs more than two pounds.

“No!” the first biker protests, and Chica slams the handle of the gun into her temple, then does the same for the second. The bikers thud to the floor, out cold.

They can all hear the sirens now.

“Let’s go,” Rey says briskly. Lotte starts to speak, but Rey points one gloved finger. “Not another fucking word.”

SS:TIE

Rey’s coveralls are gone, burned in the van along with the gear from the job. She wears linen pants and a blazer over a sports bra. She leans against the car, keeping an eye on the quiet parking garage five stories above Miami. There’s no breeze, and the air is chokingly humid.

Glynda Darcy stands at the car’s open trunk, examining the contents of the black duffel within. She slams the trunk shut and joins Rey. Her slacks are wrinkled, and the busty Irishwoman’s blouse is only half-buttoned. She’s not trying to turn heads; it’s just another muggy day.

“I don’t know what happened,” Glynda says. “It should’ve only been money. And the safe? I’ll ask questions.”

“That’s ten kilos in there,” Rey says, slipping her hands into her pockets.

“What do you want to do?”

Rey shrugs. “We’ll have to turn it.”

“The bikers are out. That leaves the Russians and the Cubans. I’ll line something up. The job was no good, so we’ll forget about the front money. It’ll take at least a week to clean the cash.”

“OK.”

“Lora called. She has something for you.”

“I got something already.”

“She said you’d be interested.”

Rey shrugs. “Tomorrow.”

“All right.” Glynda searches Rey’s face. “I saw the news. What happened?”

Rey shakes her head. Her eyes are hard. “Doesn’t matter.”

SS:TIE

Sally climbs out of her car, pulling off her jacket. She wads it up and throws it into the back, then slams the door. It’s dark, so everything is lit by the harsh glow of streetlights and whatever lamps that CSI has set up. Scene tape and cops are all over the place. It’s a madhouse. She loosens her tie and absently adjusts the gun at her hip as she takes in the neighborhood with its grimy little houses, packed together like bullets in a magazine.

She walks past a UPS truck and into the house, where detectives Alison Tremble and Shelby Matthews stand over a corpse near an open safe. The room reeks of gunpowder, and evidence markers cover the floor.

Alison waves her over. “They dumped the vehicle. Everything was in there. Looks like they used an incendiary device to light it up.” There are dark circles under the redhead’s eyes.

“UPS truck?” Sally asks.

“Trojan horse,” Shelby says, and the chubby brunette throws Sally a look that she knows well: she’s not going to like what comes next. “Clean, out of our local distro. Inside job, one hundred percent.”

“But we won’t get a connection because even if we find the insider, they don’t know who the fuck hired them to snatch the key.” Sally rubs her face. “Jesus.”

“Do we take it?” Shelby asks.

Sally laughs. She points at the front door. “We got a legitimately clever distraction to divide their security. We got at least one explosive device.” She gestures with both hands at the back door, which is blown off its hinges. “I’m thinking two. We have an organized team with plans, timing, and intel. They didn’t just happen to be here today, they knew the bikers were stacked to meet a connect. They knew there would be money. Dead body’s just a bonus. This is major crimes. Everyone else, fuck off.”

Shelby crouches beside the body. “This one was executed as an example to the other two. They had to get the safe combination.”

“That doesn’t sound right. These guys should’ve had it already,” Sally says.

“Guess they didn’t. After they capped off this one, the bikers gave it up.”

“Smart. Our witnesses have anything helpful to add?”

“You’ll never believe this, LT—but these bikers were not eager to talk to us,” Alison says, looking away to yawn into her elbow. “Hey. Don’t step in my blood,” she warns a uniformed cop taking pictures.

Shelby blows out her breath. “Our guys were wearing masks. Now, one of the bikers heard someone call one of them ‘Cheese’.”

“Cheese? Probably too common, but OK. Run with it,” Sally says. The shooting looks sloppy; there are several holes in the dead biker’s chest. The grouping is awful for such close range.

“The other one saw a tattoo of an orange fish,” Alison adds.

“Better than nothing,” Sally says, examining the remains of the door. “No traffic cameras in a neighborhood like this. They kept it tight. I’m surprised they let those two walk. This is a **** charge for all of them no matter what. They’ve got skills, but maybe they don’t have experience.”

“They have it now,” Shelby says.

Sally gazes at the scene. “Could’ve been **** in the safe. If so, they have to move them. Let’s start talking to snitches. I want forensics to focus on the explosives.”

SS:TIE

Lotte greedily digs into the slice of chocolate cake that the waitress has just brought. Chica sits across from her in the booth at a diner near the highway. Forks and plates clink. Elsa sits beside Lotte while Lili is next to Chica.

“Why do they call you Cheese?” Lotte asks with her mouth full, peering curiously across the table. Only she is eating; everyone else has coffee.

“She held up the chow line once for ten minutes because she couldn’t decide between pepperjack and Swiss,” Elsa says, gazing out the window. “Everyone in our barracks thought she just loved cheese that much because she had so much to say about it.”

“She doesn’t care about cheese,” Lili says. “Everything’s just a fucking cost benefit analysis with her. Just eat your cake.”

“What are you so pissy about?” Lotte asks.

“You fucked us out there.”

“I got that safe open. I got you paid. Sometimes you have to play rough.”

“You got us a body for the cops and a bunch of shit we don’t want that’s going to be even more risk if we try to move it,” Chica says tightly.

Lotte doesn’t like that. She taps her fork on her plate. “We got paid.”

“Sure,” Lili replies.

Rey enters the diner. As one, Elsa and Lili leave the booth. Rey makes her way down and slides in beside Lotte.

“Are you here to bitch and moan too?” Lotte asks.

“Shut the fuck up or you won’t have a mouth to talk with,” Rey says without even looking at her. She runs her hand through her hair. Reluctantly, she meets Chica’s gaze. Chica doesn’t have to ask the question out loud. Lotte’s sloppiness has endangered everyone. She’s a liability.

Kill her? Or pay her out and cut her loose?