At The Dry Cleaner

He knew something was wrong the moment he walked in the door and saw the bench turned over and a couple of chess sets on the floor. Did the Greco goons already get wind of his coming? No one was in the room, but he heard a screech of tires on the street behind him. He stuck his head out the door in time to see the tail end of a Jaguar swaggering around the corner.

He flounced fearlessly back into the dry cleaner, looking for Stephen and trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing and what Huong had told him just an hour ago. At the back of the room, next to the coffee table, a door stood ajar. He sleepily pushed on the door and peered into the darkness. All he could see were shadows that resembled a large cockroach with a pickle.

He bounced into the dark room, cursing himself as he did so. "Good grief, I know better than to even be here," he said to himself nonchalantly.

That was his last thought before he felt a fishing pole hit him on the intestine and everything went black.