Raid and the Blackest Sheep by Harri Nykänen Page B

customer. No wonder the place isn’t pulling a profit.”
         “Just a couple friends who dropped by to say hello.”
         Nygren glanced at the men. They didn’t look like anybody’s friends.
         Mara tried to manage a friendly smirk, but the attempt fell flat.
         “Good timing. Just made coffee…”
         Nygren peeked inside a BMW 740 parked next to the building. “A hundred thousand miles, and of that, fifty thousand driven backwards. Otherwise the odometer would say one fifty, right?”
         “Phhh. That’s my own car.”
         “Mara here’s notorious for the fact that whenever a car comes in the front gate, fifty-thousand miles go out.”
         “What if the car’s been driven less than fifty?” Raid asked.
         “Then the buyer gets free miles—a car that’s been driven less than zero miles.”
         Mara’s friendly face started to fade.
         “Can I help you guys with something? Pretty busy here…”
         Nygren scanned the empty lot.
         “Looks like it. Didn’t you get word?”
         “I heard something from the boys, but I didn’t quite follow your reasoning.”
         “What’s so complicated about it?”
         “They said you want a hundred grand, but they must have heard you wrong. I ain’t got that kinda money. Lucky if I can afford coffee and a few biscuits.”
         Mara’s buddies chuckled.
         Nygren held out his hand.
         “The money.”
         “You really expect to traipse outta here with a hundred grand?” Mara’s belly shook as he laughed.
         “That’s right.”
         Mara glanced back and the goons in leather stepped forward.
         “What’s this inventory you’re talking about?” asked Mara.
         “Perhaps it’s best if I put it in proper Finnish: cough up the fucking money or die.”
         Nygren’s sudden anger startled Mara, and he stepped back, but his leathered backup calmed his nerves.
         “There must be some mistake here, my friend.”
         “Correct. You’re gravely mistaken if you think I’ll buy the same bullshit as your customers.”
         “Sorry, but business suffers from too much standing around. You should go now.”
         With a nod, Mara stepped aside and the leathered pair advanced on Nygren.
         Unfazed, Nygren stood his ground, and the men seemed to hesitate.
         “I suggest you go quietly,” said one of them as he reached for Nygren’s arm. Suddenly, the thug screamed and jerked his hand away. Raid stepped between the two of them brandishing a heavy tire iron.
         “That hurt?” said Nygren. “Pity.”
         The other tough backed away, rummaging for something in his pocket. Raid slammed the iron down on his collar bone, snapping it. The pain was so intense that he dropped to his knees howling.
         Mara could see the situation was getting out of control, and despite his excess weight, he quickly waddled off toward the camper.
         Raid lifted a gas can out of the trunk of Nygren’s Mercedes and doused the front of the camper with it. Mara peered out from behind the curtains, his eyes darting wildly.
         Nygren knocked on the door of the camper.
         “Call the fire department. Something’s burning here.”
         He flicked a match at the wall and the camper burst into flames.
         Mara gestured frantically behind the window.
         “There’s a propane tank in here… It’s gonna blow!”
         “Thanks for the heads up. We’ll back up a little and watch. Always wanted to see what one of those does when it blows.”
         Mara’s lackeys watched the blaze apathetically as Raid wagged his gun at them.
         “Stay put.”
         Raid got Nygren’s Mercedes, backed it up till it was ten feet from the camper door, and opened the trunk.
         The flames spread quickly, engulfing the entire camper. Thick,