The Gentlemen's Hour

148

The right lens of the spectacles shatters, one bright blue eye disappears in a spray of red, and then Jones drops from Boone’s view.

Two more shots follow, each into the brain of one of the narcothugs. The driver slumps dead over the wheel. The last thug reaches for his gun, but the bullet catches him in midmotion, and then it’s quiet.

The van door slides open.

“You good, bruddah?”

“Good, bruddah.”