“Now, vit foot, kick it easy over here.”

The man kicked the gun toward him. Ragen released his captive and picked up the second gun, covering all three of them. “Is not good manners to treat visitor this vay.”

He emptied both clips, spun both guns, catching them by the barrels, and flipped them back to their owners. He turned his back on them and walked toward Foley.

“I vould say you need better bodyguard than these two.”

“Put your guns away,” Foley said. “And go stand over by his car. I’m going to have a talk with Mr. Milligan.”

He nodded for Ragen to get into the back of the car and slipped in beside him. He pressed a button and a traveling bar opened.

“What do you drink?”

“Vodka.”

“I expected that from your accent. So you’re not Irish, as your name would suggest.”

“I am Yugoslavian. Names mean nothing.”

“Can you use a gun as well as' your hands?”

“You have gun for demonstration?”

Foley reached under the seat and handed Ragen a .45.

“Is good veapon,” Ragen said, testing its heft and balance. “I prefer nine-millimeter, but this vill do. Choose target.”

Foley pressed the button, lowering the window. “That beer can on the other side of the road, the one near the—”

Before he finished, Ragen s hand moved out and fired. The can clattered. He hit it again twice as it bounced away.

Foley smiled. “I can use a man like you, Mr. Milligan or whatever your name is.”

Ragen said, “I need money. You have job, I do it.”

“Do you have any objections to breaking the law?”

Ragen shook his head. “Except one thing. I do not hurt people unless my life in danger, and I do not harm vomans.” “Fair enough. Now go back to your own car and follow us closely. We’ll go to my place, where we can talk business.” Both bodyguards glared at him as he brushed by them to get into his car.

“You ever do that again,” the tall one said,”and I’ll kill you.” Ragen caught him and spun him quickly against the car, twisting his arm upward just a fraction short of breaking it. “For that you have to be more faster and smarter than you are. Be careful. I am very dangerous person.”

Foley called from his car. “Murray, damn you, get the hell over here. Leave Milligan alone. He’s working for me now.” When they got into the car, Ragen pulled out to follow them, wondering what this was all about and why he had come here in the first place.

He was surprised when the car pulled into a luxurious estate not far from Reynoldsburg. There was a storm fence around it, and behind the fence, three Doberman pinschers ran back and forth.

It was a large Victorian mansion, thickly carpeted and decorated in a simple modem style with paintings and objects dart. Foley showed Ragen around the house, obviously proud of his possessions. Then he led him to the bar in the den and poured him a vodka.