To Snake’s left stood Wilma Deen and his bastard son, Alois, who’d been staring dumbfounded at Snake ever since they were brought in. The transformation Junelle had worked on him was that profound. Snake didn’t like that Toons had brought Wilma and Alois to the farm. The only reason he could see for it was that Toons wanted to be able to kill all three of them at the same time. He figured the arrogant shit was trying to get up the nerve to do exactly that now.

“Four men,” Toons repeated. “We’ve lost four men because of you, and for what?”

Snake said, “You choose a rough business, you take casualties sometimes.”

“Two men at the gas station,” Toons said, counting on his fingers. “Two men outside the Steel Tiger. And what the fuck have we got out of it?”

“The names of two friendly judges, a bent DA, and a dozen dirty cops.”

“That ain’t a quarter of what you promised us!”

Snake offered nothing.

Toons raised his right forefinger and shook it, then kept shaking it as he walked toward Snake. Snake kept his eye on Toons’s other hand, in case he made a move for the gun at his side or one of the two knives he wore at all times. Toons also carried a sap, Snake knew, something you didn’t see much these days, but which could be a hell of a weapon in the hands of a skilled man.

“I’m tired of you stalling,” Toons said, his wide eyes looking like he’d been sampling some of the gang’s product. “We didn’t lose anybody doing our business. We were doing your business. And I don’t understand your business.”

“You don’t have to. Lars does, and that’s all that matters.”

Toons grimaced at the mention of his boss’s name. “I’ll tell you what Lars understands, Grandpa. You promised us the remains of Forrest’s network. You promised us ranking officers in the drug units. The HIDTA, for example. And you promised us judges, Snake. Judges.”

“I’ve already given you two, plus I got two of your mules out of trouble down in Iberia Parish.”

“We’re supposed to get direct access to all Forrest’s judges.”

“If I give that to you, you’ll cut my throat the first time I go to sleep.”

Toons tried to keep a straight face, but a near hysterical smile broke through, and his eyes danced. “Now that’s an idea, Snake man. I must confess, I have thoughts about that.”

Snake pushed himself off the wall and spat into a trash can by the crappy metal desk. “I tell you what, Toons. You keep on fantasizing. Go choke your chicken while you think about cutting my throat. And I’ll keep focusing on my business. Because that’s what businessmen do.”