Gravenholtz sweated as the buses and limos rolled past, thinking how much he missed the Belt. He had been happy working for the Colonel back in Tennessee. The Colonel was the most powerful warlord in the Belt, Gravenholtz his special enforcer, keeping the shitbirds in line and loving every minute of it. Yeah, it was one sweet situation, until Baby gave him the look that one afternoon, the Colonel's young wife back from horseback riding, sitting up on that white stallion like the queen of Sheba. How you doing, Lester? she said, staring down at him with those green eyes, the top button of her blouse undone so he could see the beauty mark between her breasts. The Colonel had been gone that day, and when Baby shook out her hair it was like a golden net he couldn't escape. I'm bored, Lester Gravenholtz.

If he had said no to Baby that day Gravenholtz would still be the Colonel's chief ass kicker. Instead…he waved at the gnats that buzzed his mouth…instead, he was standing under a phony banyan tree while tourists hurried past, crossed themselves and thanked God that they didn't have whatever the fuck he was supposed to have. Welcome to Castroland. Stumpy across the street did a flip, walked around on his hands to applause from the small crowd gathered around him. Gravenholtz squeezed out a dry fart.

A South American tour group walked past Gravenholtz, Brazilians with their emerald jewelry flashing, hurrying now as they got a good look at him. A little girl with short black hair started crying, buried her face into her mother's hips, was quickly lifted into the senora's arms. The elephant man prosthetic scared off normal folk, but according to the Old One it was just the thing to reel in the oil minister, make him go all gooey inside.

Gravenholtz watched the helicopters fluttering overhead, hotel guests heading out to what was left of the Bahamas. A year ago, he and Baby had stolen the Colonel's prize Chinese helicopter and flown to Florida, along with three of Gravenholtz's men. Supposed to sell the bird for enough that they could all live high and easy for a while. Good plan, but Baby changed it.

She had them set down the chopper in the Everglades. They barely got out before Baby shot his boys in the head, one-two-three, just like that. You'd think she'd been waiting forever to do it from the look on her face. Come on, Lester honey, she had said, tugging on his earlobe, I want you to meet my daddy. Good thing Baby hadn't tried shooting him-bullets just stung, but the betrayal might have pissed him off so bad he forgot himself.

He watched a barefoot mamacita waddle out of a shanty and start hanging clothes on a line. Bright colored tops with frayed sleeves, shorts with holes in them. He could hear her huffing and puffing from where he stood, raising herself up to pin the clothes.

The Islamic Republic had the Fedayeen, best fighters in the world maybe, so to counter that, twenty years ago some generals in the Bible Belt set up a secret project. They brought over this Jap scientist to build their own supersoldiers, augment the raw human material, so to speak, the psychos and sadists used for the experiments. Jap jobs, they called them, like that name might keep them in their place. Turned out the Belt generals were afraid of the Jap jobs almost as much as they were afraid of the Fedayeen.

Took at least thirty operations to make a Jap job, painful too…not that he remembered much about it, just dreams of bright lights and sharp knives peeling him open layer by layer like a pink onion. The Jap scientist had done something else to them…tweaked their frontal lobes a little bit, removing some moral governor that most human beings had. You ask Gravenholtz, there wasn't more than a smidge in him anyway.

Gravenholtz inhaled as he spotted a dark blue limo approaching. It looked just like the other hotel limos, but this one rode a little low from the added weight, one of the VIP German models, fully armored, top, bottom and sides. He kept his head down as the limo slowed…slowed…finally came to a stop in front of him and stayed there, idling softly.

Gravenholtz shuffled closer, edged his begging basket ahead of him with the toe of his shoe. The sun burned the back of his neck, heat rippling through him clear down to his fingertips. He could see the legless kid reflected in the security glass of the limo, the kid swinging along on his hands, begging basket clenched between his teeth.

The passenger door of the limo opened and a slender, light-skinned Mexican got out, a machine pistol swinging from a shoulder rig. Gravenholtz glimpsed the driver looking over at him, disgusted, before the door thudded shut.

He stared blankly ahead as the Mexican wanded him, taking his time. Explosives, metal, nuclear or biologic toxins, the wand screened for everything…but there wasn't any metal in Gravenholtz. None of those other things either.

The Jap scientist had used biologic body armor on Gravenholtz. Flexible body armor with hardly any seams. Made of some unique material where the more it was compressed, the stronger it got. The early jobs relied on their reinforced fists and feet, their heavy-density joints, but Gravenholtz was the prototype for the new model. New and improved, just like laundry detergent and mouth rinse. Might have made a real difference if they were ever put into full production…might have ended the stalemate between the Belt and the Republic, but something happened. Gravenholtz was on a solo training mission, doing what he did best, and when he came back to the lab complex everyone was dead. All the other Jap jobs, the head scientist and his team. Must have taken a full Fedayeen strike force. Gravenholtz had been shocked at first, then he thought, maybe it wasn't so bad to be the last of his kind. Made him even more special.

The light-skinned Mexican had him raise his shoes so he could test the soles, and when the man bent forward, Gravenholtz could see a tiny bald spot on the crown of his head, right there among that nest of fine brown hair. Would have been a problem for him in a few years…so there was that to thank him for. Not that anyone ever did. In the smoked glass, he could see the legless kid hovering nearby, keeping just out of range of the wand.

The Mexican nodded to somebody inside the limo, then pivoted, the machine pistol making a slow arc. He jerked his chin at the legless kid, ordered him back.

Stumpy did a one-armed push-up.

The Mexican laughed.

The rear door of the limo slid open, another bodyguard in the doorway, beckoning. "Andale!"

Gravenholtz moved closer, dragging one foot. He stepped into the limo, swayed in the doorway.

At that moment, the legless kid bounded toward the limo.

Gravenholtz was supposed to hold the door open just long enough for the kid to fling himself inside, then step out and slam it shut. The blast would pulverize everyone inside the limo, leaving Gravenholtz free to kill the remaining bodyguard and escape. He and Stumpy had practiced the move for the last two days until it was perfect. Kid never said a word the whole time, just had that same weird little smile like he had now as he launched himself at the open door, bullets ricocheting off the pavement.

The bodyguard tried to shove him aside, but Gravenholtz held his ground inside the limo, his eyes on the kid and the smile that got bigger and bigger as he shot through the air…until Gravenholtz slammed the door in his face.

The blast rocked the limo, the light blinding for an instant, even through the security glass. Gravenholtz fell back against the bodyguard, the man cursing as the limo raced erratically down the street, tires squealing.

"Jefe…Jefe, esta usted bien?" gasped the bodyguard, pulling himself to his feet. He looked out the back window for pursuers. There were none. "Jefe?"

"Estoy bien, Esteban. Muy bien." The oil minister nestled in the plush leather bench seat facing Gravenholtz, his hands gripped together to hide their trembling.