Callous

Keegan took the news of Dio’s murder with a flurry of activity. Cover-up, cover-up, destroy, shred all documents, and surround himself with protection lest the killings were just beginning; such was the nature of the drug trade.

The list of suspects/enemies for the killing were legion.

Keegan mostly needed to run.

He had always felt the Irish branch of their business would bring trouble, but this? This was the worst turn of events and exposed Keegan in a way he had never been.

As second in command, you tended to stay in the shadows, safer there.

Keegan was hiding out in the Ocean Apartments, one of Dio’s favorite crash pads. Keegan was gathering up the cash hidden all over the rooms. He heard a banging on the door, reached for the Glock on the table, pushed it into the back of his jeans, opened the door.

Mason.

The U.S. Marshal.

He gave Keegan a wide grin, pushed his way into the apartment, produced a bottle of Jack, said,

“Be a good boy, get us some glasses and take the weapon from your lower back. We don’t want any...”

Pause.

“Accidents.”

Keegan laid the Glock carefully on the table, got two heavy glass tumblers, placed them on the coffee table. Mason uncapped the Jack, poured two liberal measures, asked,

“To what do we toast?”

Keegan gave a bitter smile, said,

“Survival.”

Mason enjoyed that, drained his glass in one hit, said,

“Ah, heaven.”

Keegan did not touch his drink, said,

“What’s the deal now? My boss is dead. You wanted to nail him and he is indeed nailed.”

Mason kept a shit-eating grin in place, asked,

“Did you kill him?”

Keegan gave a harsh chuckle, said,

“If I did it, there’d be no body.”

Mason mulled it over, asked,

“How’d you like to be the boss?”

Phew-oh.

Keegan said,

“I’d like to get out. This seems the appropriate time.”

Mason, still with the grin, said,

“You’d be able to help us with some other players.”

Keegan shook his head. Mason said,

“You have heavy-duty jail time hanging over you.”

Keegan put out his hands, said,

“Cuff me. I’m done with all this shit.”

Mason considered him for a moment, then,

“Are you forgetting the Mitchell brothers, who are coming for you?”

Keegan said,

“No. They are one more reason to get out.”

Mason said, as he prepared to leave,

“I think we’ll let you swing in the breeze, see who peeps out.”

He looked at the remaining hooch in the Jack bottle, said,

“Have a party.”

And then, as if a thought just occurred, asked,

“Your late boss, the very dead Dio, once the autopsy is finished, any notion of what you want to do with him? No family came forward.”

Keegan gave him a look, then,

“I’ll take care of him.”

Mason waited, asked,

“Fly him back to Mexico?”

Keegan scoffed, said,

“I’ll burn the fucker.”

Mason was a little taken aback, tried,

“Need any assistance with that?”

Keegan smiled, no heat in it, asked,

“Got a match?”