“What’s the beef?” Liddell wanted to know. He looked from the man behind the desk to the two hard-eyed men sprawled in chairs near the door.
“They’ve got a search warrant, Johnny,” the redhead told him. “They wanted to break open your top drawer but I asked them not to smash up the new furniture.”
“Mind if I see the warrant?”
The man behind the desk pursed his lips, shrugged. “Not at all.” He pulled a legal-looking paper from his pocket, slid it across the desk. From his side jacket pocket he pulled a worn leather case, flipped it open, flashed a metal shield at Liddell. “I’m Byers. Treasury Department.”
Liddell nodded, dropped the warrant on the desk. “What’s it all about?”
Byers grinned humorlessly. It consisted merely of a tilting of the corners of his lips. His eyes were still col
