It had been nearly a year since John Barrett gave the order to have him fired from the shipping department, instructions that included turning his name over to the police for being a marijuana smoker. His foreman had caught him with a lighted «joint» during his lunch break, and being the hard- hat that he was, went straight to John B. himself. Lucy never knew any of this, of course, for the store had kept it quiet to avoid publicity. And though the charges were eventually dropped by the District Attorney's office, he had spent a nervous two months sweating it out. And unemployed to boot. He swore to get even that very day he was fired, but he had given it up as a lost cause until he spotted Lucy that night at Scottie's.

David had another job now, thanks to John Barrett. Or rather, no thanks, for he would rather have been on welfare than doing what he was into now. He had reluctantly agreed to do some work for Sammy DeAngelo and his organization, just that one time to make ends meet. One little trip down to the Naval Yards at Norfolk with a certain small package to deliver, just that one time. But it didn't work out that way; with Sammy's organization it never did. Once they had their hooks in you, your ass was theirs until they tired of you. First they were all smiles and please-and-thank-you, then they lost their charming good humor when you refused them another delivery run. And when you went out to start your car one morning and found all the tires slashed even though it had been left under a street light, then, if you were smart, you knew that the organization had you where they wanted you. Right under their thumb.

Only now David could see a light at the end of the tunnel – a way out from under Sammy's crushing weight and a chance to get even with John Barrett at the same time! It was almost too good to be true, all that money just waiting to be grabbed.