Baba Yaga was pulling out a stack of passports held by a rubber band. Before she could place them in her bag Vaporlock swept a hand across his chest and jammed the slick, smelly mess into the face of Baldy, who stood closest to Baba Yaga. As the man gagged and slumped Vaporlock grabbed his pistol and fired wildly at Baba Yaga while reaching for the satchel with his free hand.

Franny was in motion long before the shot. He knew better than to try to grab the slippery ace. Instead he snatched a heavy metal and enamel icon off the desk, and slammed the heavy framed edge down on Vaporlock’s forearm. The shot went wild, slamming into a nearby sofa. Instead of pale stuffing the bullet sent up a cloud of red- and flesh-colored particles.

Baba Yaga’s mouth was working, the wrinkled cheeks becoming even more sunken. Vaporlock looked terrified and he whirled and ran. A gob of spit hit the floor behind his heels, but he was through the door and slammed it shut.

Franny started to move toward the door. He was still clutching the icon. Baba Yaga’s command cut the air.

“Stop!”

“I want to arrest that asshole.”

“Always the noble hero,” the old woman said and gave a nod toward the icon. Franny looked down and for the first time noticed the figures. It was St. George slaying a dragon. “Well, I want to kill him,” Baba Yaga said in a prosaic tone. “But I think we’re both doomed to disappointment.”

There were male voices in the hall outside the living quarters. Franny couldn’t distinguish what they were saying, but Vaporlock’s voice came through shrill and angry. “Yeah, the bitch is in there.” More murmuring. “Two. I took down one guy. Oh and a hurt cop. Don’t worry. I heard about him back in New York. He’s a pussy.”

Franny pushed aside his irritation and focused on the more immediate problem. “Who are they? Do you know?” Franny asked.

“Crows come to pick at the corpse,” she answered. She was placing a stack of old-style cassette tapes into the satchel.

“Very poetic, but that doesn’t tell me much.”

“Competitors who see their opportunity. Well, they’ll be ruling in hell very soon.” She said something to Stache and B.O., who were still on their feet, and they took up positions to either side of the door.

“I’m going to be very disappointed in you if you don’t have an alternate way out of this joint,” Franny snapped at her.

She gave him that cold, secretive smile again. “We cannot simply run before them. They must be forced to pull back and lick their wounds.”

“You give me a gun and maybe I can help.”

“I give you a gun and maybe you use it on me.”

“As I recall I just saved you from a bullet. Also you’re my ticket out of here.”

Hand signals were being exchanged by the guards. One of them snapped off a shot and someone screamed. A hail of bullets came at the defenders. B.O. went down. The day was just getting better and better, Franny reflected.