S.D. was still in the same spot where Em Cal had left him, still moaning, clutching his bloody arm.

"Get your sorry ass up, boy," snapped Em Cal. "You're not dying!"

S.D. obediently got to his feet, but let out a yelp as he used his wounded arm to get up.

"I take it that you got him," said S.D.

"Yeah," said Em Cal, "but I ain't done yet. "You see those chemical containers?"

S.D. nodded.

"Find something flammable," said Em Cal. "I'm burning this goddamn place down."

"You expect me to find something with this arm?" S.D. groaned.

"You have one good arm and two legs," snarled Em Cal. "Now do what I say, before you have more bullets in you!"

He took out one of his Uzis and pointed it at S.D. S.D. sucked his teeth and muttered, "What crawled up your ass and died?"

Em Cal took out his phone and called V.K. McMahon. The phone rang three times before McMahon picked up.

"Yes?"

"This is me," said Em Cal. "Just wanna let you know it's over. Johnny Saracino and his business just went belly up."

"That is the best news I've heard this week," said McMahon happily. "You've done me proud, Em Cal."

"Glad to hear it," said Em Cal. "I'm still at the factory, but it won't be up for long. I'm going to burn it, make sure nobody ever uses this factory again.

"You sure know how to cover all of the bases, don't you?" said McMahon, impressed. "What time do you want me to be at the apartment for the payoff?"

"In an hour," said Em Cal. "I'll see you then."

S.D. reappeared with gasoline.

"What now?" he asked

"Leave a trail from the chemical containers and light the gas trail up." said Em Cal. "I'm going to get the truck ready."

Lighting up a Winston, Em Cal handed his zippo lighter to S.D. and walked back outside to start up the ice cream van. A minute later, S.D. came hurtling out of the factory and into the van. Em Cal stepped on the pedal and not a moment too soon. There was a sonic boom. Em Cal looked in the side mirror. Angry flames were reaching toward the sky already.

"That's that," said Em Cal. He looked at S.D. and added, "Don't worry about the wounds, kid. I can take it out once we get to my place."

"The sooner the better," muttered S.D. "I'm going to help myself to popsicles and that 50 Gs."

Em Cal let out a short exasperated noise. The boy had two bullets in his arm, and all he could think about were stupid popsicles.

"Em Cal, I cannot thank you enough," said V.K. McMahon at Em Ca's apartment. "I knew I made the right decision when I asked you to handle this Triple Effect mess for me. I said your payoff would be one with a plethora of zeros if you did this for me. I am a man of my word, here's your cut, big guy, five million dollars."

He opened up the suitcase he was holding, revealing used 20s and 50s. Em Cal took the suitcase without saying thanks.

"How would you like to work for me, full time again?" McMahon asked.

Em Cal shook his head and said. "I appreciate the offer, McMahon, but I'm retired, I vowed to never go back again, I keep my word."

"One can respect that," said McMahon. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He and Em Cal shook hands. Then McMahon gathered up his trench coat and looked at S.D., who was wrapping up his wounds.

"Take care of those wounds, son," he said and walked out of the door.

"Listen boy," Em Cal said. "It would be wrong for me to have you leave here, empty handed. You helped me out a lot and I don't forget those who help me. So, I'm going to add on to the fifty thousand you found in that van. How's five hundred thousand sound?"

"I would yell for joy, if I hadn't spend a quarter of an hour yelling when you were removing the bullets," said S.D. "500 Gs? Who needs lottery tickets when I got you, Cal?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Em Cal, handing S.D. the money. "It's time for you to leave. Dump the van when you get the chance. And be sure to clean the wounds regularly."

"Alright," said S.D. pocketing the money. "Thanks, man, nobody's ever given me anything."

"No problem, kid," Em Cal said. "Now for the last time, get lost."

"Alright, I'm gone," said S.D, shutting the door behind him.

"At last," said Em Cal. He was alone and things would go back to the way the were before V.K. McMahon came to him several days ago. He was going to invest in the money McMahon gave him. He would buy the Se7en Spades, so Lester, it's current owner could retire. He would go out to the casinos and gamble some of his money away. But until then, there was one thing that he wanted to do; Get a good night's sleep.

The End