The little colonel held his gaze but Harmon could tell he was not just considering the proposal.

"Well, of course it is mine!" the colonel finally said, tipping the muzzle of his Colt Python, touching the soft skin hanging under Harmon's chin. Harmon hated it when they actually touched him.

"But I will have to perhaps make a call on your phone to my commandant to see what to do with you and your black box, Mr. Oil. You must know that the political climate has changed down here and bribes are not the only way it works any longer. You don't just walk into my country like you're the fucking Miami police and tell the chulos what to do with your high and mighty. Here, we are the power!"

It was then that Harmon picked up the distant sound, at first faint, like the hard purring of a cat. He knew it would grow louder into the whumping of air on a blade. He still had his hand in his pocket. In Miami even the gangbangers would have had him put his hands on his head by now.

"There are many lessons here for you, college boy," Harmon said and for the first time there was a slight growl in his voice. Harmon knew that Squires would begin firing as soon as the soldiers' eyes went up and away to search the sky for the helicopter.

"Number one is that no, we aren't the Miami police. You see, they wouldn't just kill you in the street and not stay to fill out the paperwork. And two, the more things change…" He began pulling the trigger on his own little Colt before finishing the thought. Three rounds in quick succession pierced the fabric of his coat pocket and ripped up and through the heart of the UM business major.