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Sutra shit, and Julie said, “And it turns out Chinese guys just want a blowjob like everyone else.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and said, “Violet’s working, you want me to get her?” and Frank said, “That’s okay, I just stopped to talk to him.”
    Burroughs was still on the phone.
    Julie said, “You sure? She hasn’t seen anybody all day,” and Frank said he was sure, but he was thinking, maybe it would be a good idea, relax a little before going to see these bikers in town, but then Burroughs clipped his cell in that little plastic holster on his belt and said, “What’s up?”
    Julie said, “You gentlemen want coffee?” and walked into the kitchen.
    The townhouse was in a new development a few miles from the casino on the way to the 400, the highway to Toronto, filled mostly with dealers and bartenders and waiters and housekeeping staff, three or four to a unit and a couple of units set up with girls to serve the Chinese guys. Julie Qin and her mother had run massage parlours north of Toronto for some Hong Kong gangsters Burroughs knew from when he was a cop.
    Now Burroughs was saying, “Boys busted a grow op in Timmins, found a six-foot gator.”
    â€œHow’d they get a fucking alligator to Timmins? It’s five hundred miles north of here.”
    â€œFive hundred plants and a bunch of magic mushrooms, too. They were working.”
    â€œAnd I can’t find anybody to do an eight-hour behind the bar.”
    Burroughs said, “I guess if they left a bear inside to scare people off it would’ve eaten the plants.”
    â€œLike I said, can’t find good help.”
    Then Burroughs said, “You talked to them about this place yet?”
    â€œI’m going into town now. They want to set up some chicks in the hotel.”
    Burroughs said, “I told you, not in the fucking hotel. We’ll get another unit here.”
    â€œI’ll talk to them.”
    â€œOkay good. And they aren’t as solid as they claim.”
    Frank said, no? And Burroughs said no. “I was talking to a buddy on the task force, city cop.”
    â€œYou still have friends in the city?”
    â€œThey’re bringing all the operations together — the provincial police, the city, Mounties. They’ve even got the Americans involved — Michigan, New York State.”
    Burroughs liked to sound plugged in, Frank knew, ever since him and pretty much his whole narco squad in Toronto got picked up by the Mounties. Of course, the investigation went to shit when they handed it back to the city — couldn’t find a single witness willing to testify, the evidence was screwed up, wiretaps accidentally erased. Cops really circled the wagons. Officially the case was still open, but Burroughs took early retirement and Felix Alfano hired him as head of security for the casino.
    So maybe he was still connected, Frank couldn’t be sure, but he knew Burroughs was okay with changing bosses. Pretty sure. He said, “All those jurisdictions, cops sharing information, trusting each other, yeah right. You give me a call when that starts working out,” and Burroughs said, “They’re doing it now,” and Frank said, “So what, cops are having a convention, it’ll just be a big drunk, get everybody pissed off. They don’t even tip the hookers.”
    Burroughs said, “Public servant salaries aren’t much,” and Frank said, that’s right, “That’s why I never met a cop who lived on one.”
    Julie came into the living room, a mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other, said the coffee was ready, and went upstairs.
    Burroughs said, “They aren’t going to leave us alone forever,” and walked into the kitchen.
    Frank followed, feeling like a kid following his big brother. Shit, he could yank this guy’s chain all he wanted, never made an impression.
    In the