– This a setup?

He sticks his cigarette in his mouth and uses his free hand to pat me down.

– You wearin’ a wire? You fuckin’ IAD or somethin’?

My mouth is smashed against the speckled mirror.

– Nu-hugh.

He plucks the cigarette from his lips and thrusts it at my right eye. The scar is dead and feels nothing, but there’s a sudden flash of heat on my eyelid as I close it. He holds the cigarette close to my closed right eye, and from my still open left eye, pressed to the mirror, I see a dark blur reflected behind him. He touches the cigarette to my eyebrow and I smell burnt hair.

– So where’s the fuckin’ half key, shithead? You tell me the deal or I’m gonna burn a hole right through your fuckin’ eyelid.

There’s a ringing ceramic clunk as the toilet tank lid comes down on his head and he’s driven to his knees. I pull away from the mirror.

– He has a gun.

But Branko is already pulling the cop’s gun from its holster and stuffing it into the back pocket of his dark blue Dickies. The cop is still on his knees, eyes glazed and one hand holding the back of his head, blood oozing from between his fingers. Branko points at me.

– Water.

I grab one of the plastic cups from the sink, not bothering to tear away its wrapper, and fill it. I hand Branko the cup.

– He’s a cop.

Branko takes the cup.

– Yes. He is a cop.

He throws the water in the cop’s face, drops the cup, and slaps his cheeks a few times.

– Wake up. You are awake, yes? I did not hit you so hard. Wake up.

The cop pulls back, but Branko grabs a fistful of hair and slaps him harder. The cop winces.

– You guys are fucked. You have any idea? You know who? So fuckin’ fucked.

Branko yanks the cop’s hair, pulling his head up.

– Hey! You know who I am, yes? You see me now? You recognize me, yes? You know who I am in here for? Yes?