Soon they were cruising up the Canadian side of the Detroit River.

“Caesars is closest,” said Cal

“Sounds good. Could get lunch at Neros,” said McGrath. “Stay on Riverside, Spence.”

Spencer was still recording but had no idea how much space there was on the phone’s memory card. He wondered if it would start beeping. Caesars was the closest casino and he suspected McGrath’s mind would be on other things the moment they walked through its doors.

“‘The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,’” McGrath said. “You know who said that, Spence?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Sun Tzu. He was some Chink general. From two thousand years back. You ever wondered why it is our customers don’t take care of their own shit?”

“They certainly talk about it often enough.”

“Exactly. They talk about it. They even get together and make a start. Things go well, then someone gets a puck in their face and boom, they’re having a major beef.”

Spencer had noticed it.

“So you see, Spence,” continued McGrath, “we’re kinda like the puck. You feel me?”

Spencer thought about the phone. “Not fully.”

“You remember the Vernor Highway homies were getting all cozy with their bros at Nately Place?”

“Pucky’s crew you mean?”

“Yeah, Pucky’s crew. Well, we were the puck that fucked Pucky’s crew. You can’t say that after five bourbons I tell ya. And soon I figure we’ll fuck the Vernor Highway crew too. We’ve fucked most of those boys one time or another. Except none of them knows it. Kept them fighting, biting, and fragging each other like rats in a sack. Turn right here.”

“But what’s that got to do with those three guys the Yo-Yo whacked?”

“One of those kids, the one that lost his face and then got flame grilled in the back seat, he was related to the head honcho over at Vernor Highway. So a certain someone you know whose aging appearance kind of belies an expertise in the world of social networking, he dropped into the grapevine a few little scene-of-crime facts that only the cops or killers would know and might have laid a little trail of bread crumbs back to Pucky’s crew, which is why—”

“Fuck me,” said Spencer.

“Ahh, our boy’s caught up, Cal.”

“Took him long enough.”

“That’s right, Spencer. Pucky’s gonna need to find another two right-hand guys. But that’s probably gonna take some balls on his part, and rumor has it he don’t have any of those no more. And as for the cops, well, they’re just clutching at straws, trying to find out how we operate, what we’re planning, but they got no clue because they have no accurate intel. They’d need a guy working with us for that.”