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to work in silence. Juan turned to Captain, his coal-colored eyes registering little emotion.
    “Do you know, Captain, that those men are surrounded by enough chemicals to make us rich. Very rich.”
    Captain nodded and sighed deeply.
    “There’s a half-pound of methamphetamines on their table,” Juan said, smiling coolly, “Worth more than fifteen thousand dollars on the street.”
    “What’re they making?” Captain asked Juan.
    “Twisters,” Juan replied.
    “Twisters?”
    A quick inventory of Captain’s face told Juan his words did not register.
    “It’s a new drug,” Juan said and laughed calmly. “Hasn’t been out on the street long.”
    “What is it?” Captain asked.
    “A combination of cocaine and methamphetamine,” Juan replied. “I’ve heard that the high is unbelievable, but I wouldn’t know.”
    They watched the men work a moment in silence. Juan cast a sideways glance at Captain. “So, you didn’t come here for twisters or a little space dope, then, I take it?”
    Captain shook his head. “You know why I came.”
    Juan nodded and laughed. “You came to reassure me that we could proceed as planned.”
    Captain nodded. For the first time since entering the small, hidden room he felt relieved. Almost immediately his stomach seemed free of the knots that had entangled it since Christmas Eve.
    “That’s good to know,” Juan said and patted Captain firmly on the back. “I’d hate to think we’d have to dismantle an operation that took so long to come together.”
    Captain turned to leave.
    “Look here,” Juan said.
    Captain followed Juan’s long finger to the floor. Next to his foot sat a small bundle of methamphetamines packaged and ready for the street. He surveyed the shipment. “How much does it weigh?”
    “Twenty-one pounds,” Juan replied.
    “The street value?”
    “Half-million dollars, give or take,” Juan said and kicked the bundle.
    The men were silent a moment before Juan spoke again. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
    Captain looked from the bundle to Juan, not registering what he meant. “This year’s going to be our best yet.” He nodded and couldn’t help the smile that met Juan’s cold, dark eyes. The operation had gone along smoothly, secretly and successfully for so many years now that he had stopped counting.
    Then Robin Marino emerged on the scene.

Seven
     
    It was 6 a.m., but Sam’s bed had been cold for hours. She would bury Robin today and she had to force herself to get ready. She decided to wear a red blazer over a black wool dress. The blazer would do a decent job hiding some of the weight she had gained since a year ago when the Denver Post editor took her into his office and said her services ‘were no longer needed.’
    “Am I being fired?” she had asked. “Well,” he’d said, “yes, you are, Sam.”
    She looked at herself in the mirror. It was getting harder to spread her weight evenly over her frame. She guessed she had put on thirty pounds, but feared it was closer to fifty. She had avoided getting on the scale for fear it was actually more. But she couldn’t blame all her extra weight on getting fired. Truth was she had begun to gain weight the moment her father died.
    She turned to face the mirror and was confronted with the sight of her poor posture. She thought of Robin, who had a way of standing straight and tall. Robin was shorter than Sam but it was hard to tell. Robin’s shoulders were always squared and set back, flaunting her femininity. Sam’s had a way of curling inward. Robin often accused Sam of deliberately practicing bad posture as a way of signaling people to stay away from her. How true , Sam thought, and straightened her back and shoulders.
    To those who didn’t know them, it was hard to tell they were sisters. Robin, dark and engaging, had the olive coloring of their grandmother. Sam had the fair skin, the blonde hair and blue eyes, of their mother. Unlike Robin, there was nothing striking about