By this time Ragen had bought himself quite a few guns. In addition to the .30-caliber carbine, the .25-caliber semiautomatic and the .38 Smith and Wesson, he had a .375 magnum, an M-14, a .44 magnum and an M-16. He liked his Israeli grease gun because of its compactness and quietness. He’d also bought a .45 Thompson barrel clip, which he thought of as a collectors item.

When the mix-up time reached its peak, Kevin asked Gordy Kane for an introduction to his connection. Kevin was ready to deal drugs full-time. Kane called an hour later and gave him directions to Blacklick Woods, near Reynoldsburg, east of Columbus.

“I told him about you. He wants to see you alone so he can size you up. If he likes you, you’ve got it made. He goes under the name of Brian Foley.”

Kevin drove out, following instructions carefully. He had never been in this area, but he reached the appointed location near a culvert ten minutes early. He parked and waited in the car. Nearly a half-hour later, a Mercedes drove up and two men got out. One was tall, with a pitted face and a brown leather jacket. The other was of medium height, with a beard and a pinstriped suit. Someone was watching from the back of the car. Kevin didn’t like it—not at all. He sat behind the wheel, sweating, wondering what he had gotten himself into and whether or not he should drive off.

The tall guy with the pitted face leaned over and looked at him. The man’s tight jacket showed a bulge under his left, armpit. “You Milligan?”

Kevin nodded.

“Mr. Foley wants to talk to you.”

Kevin slid out from behind the wheel. When he turned, he saw that Foley had gotten out of the back seat of the Mercedes and was leaning against the door. He looked no older than himself, eighteen or so. His blond hair came down to his shoulders and blended into a camels-hair coat and a matching muffler, knotted at the throat.

Kevin started toward him but suddenly found himself spun around and braced against his own car. The tall man held an automatic at his head, while the bearded one reached to frisk him. Then Kevin was gone …

Ragen caught the bearded man s hand, spun him and flipped him at the tall one with the gun. He jumped the man, wrested the gun from his grip and held him as a shield as he pointed the gun at Foley, who had been watching from the Mercedes.

“It is not good to move,” he said calmly. “I put three bullets betveen eyes before you take step.”

Foley put his hands up.

“You,” Ragen said to the bearded man. “Take gun from under jacket vit two fingers and put it on ground.”

“Do what he says,” Foley ordered.

When the man moved slowly, Ragen said, “Do it now or you vill be smiling out of your sleeve.”

The man opened his jacket, removed his gun and placed it on the ground.