THIRTY-TWO - N E L L I E

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"We need to get out of here," Lola says evenly, "Or we're going down with the Juniper Gang

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"We need to get out of here," Lola says evenly, "Or we're going down with the Juniper Gang. Understand?"

Joey sneers at her and only starts to move when she shoots her pistol at his feet. I spot the knife in Carver's hand; he's darted for the door. I grab the unopened bottle of hooch on the table and swing it straight as his head. He goes down in a crash, sopping wet and bleeding. I fumble for the knife and once it's in my hands I start sawing at Felix's bonds.

An enormous explosion rips through the door. A wave of heat follows the noise and washes over my back. Dust floats through the air. Somebody's screaming. A shotgun goes off and then there's the steady cracks of a Tommy gun below.

Lola pulls at Joey and they both race down the steps. Joey must have dropped his pistol. I grab it.

"Get the hell up, Felix!" I stagger to my feet and hunch over. The explosion has rattled him a little. He stumbles and I yank him down. The glass windows in our room shatter as a bullet pierces them.

"We're going out the back door," I say. Felix stumbles along in front of me and I'm terrified he'll lurch right over the railing but we make it with his arm thrown around my shoulders. A bullet ricochets from a pipe above our heads and that wakes him up, too. We can't make a mad dash for the hallway. It'll be more like a crawl.

I collapse with Felix behind a tower of crates and cast around for something—anythingto use. There's shouts of "Police!" now and the gunfire is more sporadic. I dive over the floor for the lid of a metal vat and brandish it like a gladiator shield.

"Come on," I say, and we stumble along again. I'm stronger than I thought—but it's probably just the fear of a bullet worming its way through my body.

A few fellas hide out in the labeling room. They sweep aside the glass bottles and shove a gun on the table and we scurry away. The door's so close.

"We're almost there," I say, "Almost there."

Felix groans and I take it as a good sign. At the door I falter with the handle and then throw it open.

Lester blinks back at me, night stick in hand.

"Jesus," he says.

I don't stop. And neither does Felix. He has to jog to catch up.

"I was just about to go in looking for you."

"You're a little late," I say.

Lester points out a black car at the end. "That one's ready to go. Travers wants a word with him."

"Travers?" I echo. Felix pales.

"Treasury agent assigned here," Lester says, "He's my boss. We can provide protection for your friend here."

I open the car door. There's nobody in the driver's seat.

"Felix has had quite a day," I say, "I'm sure that Mr. Travers can have a word with him when he's feeling better."

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