He let his gaze wander around the room. Everything was set. The scientist was powdering the corpse's nose, Romeo was leafing through an account book, the black with the tube in his mouth had spit it out and was straightening, ready for action.

Hoagie took a deep breath and stuck out his hand to Lomas. It was the signal.

"Partners!" he said.

The corpse sneezed.

It was a Vesuvius sneeze, an eruption, a cataclysm. The makeup table fell over with a crash.

Alejandro was magnificent. In a swift, invisible motion his gun was out, and he slammed Lomas behind him, toward the back door.

The coquero was firing before a single agent got to his gun. His first slug caught the black belt in the belly and knocked him across the room. His second missed Hoagie, who was diving for the vault. His third nicked Romeo's shoulder, before Romeo could move.

"Vamos!" he yelled at Lomas, but Lomas was already gone.

The corpse rolled, fired once, and caught Alejandro in the head.

Hoagie, splattered with his blood, stood up behind the lab table and yelled to the forensic scientist. She tossed him her weapon, and he burst from the back door.

Lomas stood in the alley. In one arm he clasped a little black boy, who was wearing a Junkanoo mask. In his other hand he held a .45 automatic. To Hoagie its muzzle looked like a five-inch gun he'd seen on an Argentine cruiser.

He dived behind a clump of grass as the .45 roared out.

He hugged the sand, waiting an eternity for death, eyes closed, drained and sick at heart. When finally he found the courage to raise his head, the alley was empty.

Cautiously he got up. He saw a spot of purple and orange crepe paper near a garbage can.

Pulse pounding, he moved closer.

Crumpled into the can was the little black boy, an arm flung over the rim. His eyes were staring upward, and his leg was shuddering still.

Distantly Hoagie heard the Royal Police Band and voices singing proudly:

God save our gracious Queen

Long live our noble Queen

God save the Queen.

Tenderly he lifted the child out and laid him on the sand. Someone spoke above him, and his voice was deep and awed. It was Romeo, holding his left arm in a blood-soaked bandage.

"My God, mon! He broke his bloody neck!”

"You call the police?" demanded Hoagie.

"What are they going to do but put us in jail?"

"But surely we'll have to report this."

"I'll find his kin. We'll bury him."

"Are the DEA agents clear?" Hoagie asked distantly.

"On the way to the airstrip in the hearse. Carrying their dead. They'll be in Miami in an hour."

"And Alejandro?"

Hoagie said with a growl, "’You kill a snake, you mus' bury he 'fore dark, mon, he come bite you once agin.' Old Creole saying."

Hoagie glanced at the arm. "You okay, mate?"