“You got a take on this?” Sherry asked around a mouthful of sausage and pitta.
“Hand-over gone wrong and Mr Mac’s got the contract to clean up the mess.” It’s what he does, Mr Mac. He deals no drugs, doesn’t steal, doesn’t smuggle. All societies require rules and the enforcement of rules, criminal society being no exception. That’s the service he provides and anyone who does business on the Slab is required to put him on retainer. It’s not just a protection racket, it’s a genuine insurance policy, for times like this.
“Hand-over?” Sherry said. “The girl you mean?”
“What else?”
“Child prostitution? Organ trafficking?”
I shook my head. “Plenty of home grown fodder for that. This is something new.”
She washed down a mouthful with a gulp of Dragon Fire, the only beverage produced on the
