manufacturer had kept track of him. Because they had the highest level of clearance, they had access to the Defense Department’s most advanced technology. It was a piece of cake for them to go into people’s computers and erase their websites or their blogs. That’s what they did to our soldier: erased his blog.
The company heard how enraged our soldier became every time Nadia painted their logo on the Body Artist. So they worked out a sweet plan: Kill the sister, frame the angry soldier, give him roofies, and make it look like he committed suicide out of remorse.
And where do you get roofies when you need them? You go to your local drug dealer, to the Body Artist. The Artist was working for a notorious mobster, letting him use her body to send messages to his team of thugs. She’d made a name for herself years ago on the North Shore as drug dealer to the rich and famous, the rich and notorious. When someone came to her asking for Rohypnol, the date rape drug, she knew just where to send them.
“No, you ignorant bitch!” The shout came from the back of the room. “I never gave anyone drugs. You know nothing about me. If they wanted drugs, they wouldn’t come to me, they’d go to the source. They’d go to Anton. Ask him! Ask him how he treated his own daughter!”
The room was briefly silent, and Rivka’s voice rose from somewhere near the bar, “Karen! Karen! It’s me, Rivka. Where are you, oh, don’t go away!”
The audience erupted into noise. I shielded my eyes from the spotlight, but could make out only shadows of people rising from their seats, necks craning. I saw Murray’s unmistakable bulk trying to carve a path through the crowd toward where Karen had been standing. I hoped one of the Streeter brothers would make sure she stayed in the bar until I could talk to her.
Above the roar, I heard a louder roar, the unmistakable sound of a gun, and glass shattering. A second shot, and then screams. In the small space the sounds echoed and bounced from the glassware hanging over the bar; I couldn’t tell where the shots had been fired, but the screams had come from the back of the room, where I’d heard Karen’s voice. Rodney or Anton, they must have tried to kill her. I forgot I was naked. I ran into the crowd, tried to muscle my way toward where Karen/ Frannie had been standing, but my painted body was slippery, and I couldn’t make any headway.
Another shot sounded, so close to me I knew at once it had come from my left. I whipped around and saw a cloud of smoke rising near where the group from Tintrey had been sitting. I managed to push through to their table.
Rainier Cowles was slumped in his chair, blood pouring down his back. His tablemates sat frozen, their eyes on Lazar Guaman, who was pointing a gun at Jarvis MacLean.
“Enough!” I shouted. “Enough bloodshed. Put your gun down, Lazar.”
“They killed my girl,” Lazar said to me, his voice calm, just explaining the situation. “They killed my princess.”
I stepped behind him and chopped my hand down on his arm, hitting the nerve hard enough that he dropped the gun.
“One of you, call 911!” I cried. “Don’t sit there like stuffed frogs!”
I shoved the gun out of reach with my bare foot. “You’re such war heroes when kids are dying far away, do something now! Fold a napkin into a pad for the wound. Call an ambulance.”
Neither of the men seemed able to move. They stared at me glassy-eyed. I put a finger to Cowles’s neck. He still had a faint pulse. The bullet had gone through the side of his head and come out through his jaw. I grabbed a couple of napkins from the table, made pads, and started pushing them against the two wounds. It was a nightmare, a repeat of the scene in the alley when Nadia died. I kept screaming for someone to call 911.
Behind me, I heard John Vishneski come up to Lazar. “Man, it isn’t worth it,” Vishneski said, “spending your life in prison for these scum. You go back to your wife. She’s been through enough, okay?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him ease Lazar away from the table.
Marty Jepson materialized next to me. “Vic, what do you need?”
“Call 911. Get a medical team here. Page Dr. Herschel over the