From the other side of the heavy oak door Terrence Rabeneck heard muffled shouts and a fist pounding a desk. A moment of pregnant silence was followed by an explosion of swearing. Glass shattered on the opposite side of the door and Petrauskas, the new guy, winced. Terrence didn't so much as flinch. He slipped a cigarette between his lips and motioned for a light. As Petrauskas lit it with fumbling, fingers Terrence fished a second smoke from the pack, chain lit it, and passed it to him. The man gave a nervous smile in thanks, drew the smoke into his mouth and immediately blew it out.

Terrence took a deep drag and exhaled out his nose. "Draw it into your lungs," he coached. Petrauskas, probably six or seven years older, obeyed and was rewarded with a fit of coughing. Terrence laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. With his promotion to sergeant the man would be sucking down cigarettes and quaffing liquor soon enough.

"How long you been a sergeant?" Petrauskas asked.

"Four years. Maybe five?" Terrence said in a bald-faced lie. It had been five years and three months, dating back to the moment he worked up the nerve to ask Barrett Lukowski, head of one of the Four Families, for his daughter Alcy's hand in marriage. They'd dated secretly for six weeks and then openly for nine months before Terrence had even spoken to her gruff father. When he asked for permission to marry Alcy, Barrett stared at him for what seemed like days, then drew a handgun from his desk. For one terrifying moment Terrence thought his life was about to end. The hulking man rounded his desk, crushed Terrence in a bear hug, then presented the weapon as an engagement gift. Along with an immediate promotion to sergeant.

Terrence never knew what happened to the person who had previously held his post as sergeant--probably busted down to rank-and-file on some technicality—but it wasn't as bad as what happened to Petrauskas' predecessor. A patrol found him face down in an alley near Ol' Federal, his legs shot through and his throat slit, along with two other guards. Those were the breaks. You gambled every time you took a stroll through Rivertown, and you couldn't predict if your number was up...

The doors flew open and the men snapped to attention. A mustachioed red-faced man wearing an expensive suit scowled as he brushed past. Barrett loomed in the doorway, extending his middle finger at the departing man before ushering them inside and closing the doors behind them. Broken glass crunched into the plush carpet beneath their boots as Barrett muttered, "I should have him killed," and then motioned to the chairs stationed across from his desk.

"Colonel Lukowski," Terrence said with a wry smile.

Barrett stopped short and glared. "You can fuck right off Terrence. And you. Take the stick out and sit, for godsakes. Relax," he said to the stunned Petrauskas.

Barrett poured liquor into two tumblers and shoved them across his desk. He tossed the bottle into Terrence's lap. The label read Macallan 25 Highland Single Malt Scotch Whisky.

"Enjoy it," Barrett said pouring his own. "It belongs to Manolo, that prick who just left. He ordered two cases sent up from Inventory and has been crying that it had been five days since the request. Now he can wait five more and get one bottle less."

Terrence stole a glimpse at Petrauskas, who was failing to relaxed. Barrett lit an enormous cigar. "We've got a problem," he said through a cloud. "We all know someone's gunning for Lukowski men and we need to find out who. First the grunt cut down on the beach, now one of my sergeants murdered in cold blood? Coincidence? Don't think so. Where are you supposed to be stationed this week?"

"The Tombstone," Terrence said. "Starting Monday morning."

Barrett looked next at Petrauskas, who stuttered, "H-here. At S-Summerland."

Barrett stared at the man's untouched glass of scotch. "What's the problem? You don't drink?"

Petrauskas shook his head and took a quick sip from the tumbler. He coughed into the back of his hand. It was tough keeping up with the old man, Terrence knew. But you had to adapt quickly to survive.

"You," Barrett said, turning back to Terrence. "Tombstone is perfect. Get up there and ask around. Keep your ear to the ground. Do whatever it takes to get some info. Could the Johnsons be trying to cut us out? Assholes, the lot of them. But Summerland's no good. We need to work on that." he said to Petrauskas, and then to neither of them in particular, "We have to get to the bottom of this fast."

Terrence noticed Petrauskas had gone white as he tried to comprehend the chessboard he had just glimpsed. Outwardly the Families presented a unified front, but behind the scenes and they were always angling. Petrauskas gnawed on his thumbnail as Barrett stared past them, deep in thought. Petrauskas shot back the tumbler and returned it to the desk, completely drained.

Learning already, Terrence thought. Maybe he'll work out after all.