Excerpt:

Luis took the still armed Scorpion case out of the duffel bag and placed it into the huge mop basin. He started warm water running into the basin. It swirled around the cash box and trickled down the drain. He let the water run as he pulled arm-length rubber gloves on over his clothes. He tied a butchers apron on as well, and set a respirator on the shelf next to the various bottles of cleaners. He then headed back toward the loading dock door to retrieve Nicholls.

Nicholls was still breathing. After all, he had only been tranquilized. Luis did his best to get Nicholls to come around. He was slapping his cheeks and slamming him into any and all sharp corners as he dragged him back to the mop basin. By the time they arrived Nicholls was starting to make muffled noises and was trying to bat at unseen enemies with his still uncooperative hands. He dropped Nicholls face-up beside the cash box. The warm water was now soaking into his jacket and getting his hair wet.

Luis put on his respirator and picked up a sledge hammer. He reared back with it and brought it down on the grey box with all of his might. The top of the box caved in and he could see the edges of the money inside. He also saw that the box was less than a quarter full. Almost as soon as the metal creased, the air was filled with a foul smell and a jet of red smoke. The edges of the bills in the Scorpion case started oozing red as the the dye dripped from the release mechanism housed in its lid.

He knelt down and pulled the lid the rest of the way off the box. The dye was still flowing as he dropped it right on Nicholls' chest. The man's eyes fluttered, but they didn't open.

Luis dumped the money into the flowing water. As it swirled around in the water the dye covered everything. It was staining the plastic of the basin as well as it was turning Nicholls' hair a bright bloody red.

Seeing that Nicholls would be coming around shortly, he quickly grabbed a full jug of bleach and poured it into a mop bucket. To this he added a full jug of Parson's lemon scented Ammonia. He reached in with one of his gloved hands and gave the mixture a stir. A faint puff of green mist swirled up from the mixture in the bucket. With the other hand he scooped up the stained money and added it to the bucket. Working quickly, and holding his breath, he put the last of the bills into the bucket. He double-checked to be sure he hadn't left anything behind, then he sat Nicholls up on the edge of the basin. The water was still running. He rolled up the man's sleeves and plunged both of his bare hands into the bucket.

Nicholls picked that precise moment to return to consciousness.

As his eyes snapped open, Luis grabbed him by the hair and forced his face down close to the liquid in the bucket.

Nicholls opened his mouth and inhaled, priming himself for a scream. The green mist swirling above the surface of the liquid in the bucket rose up and followed his breath right down into his lungs. Rather than the oxygen and fresh air his body had been expecting, he got a full shot of chlorine gas - probably ten times the lethal dose. His whole body started shaking violently and he shot a stream of vomit across the room. One of his spasming legs nearly knocked Luis over.

Luis started out the door backwards - there was no way he could turn his back on Nicholls in case the man managed a moment of clarity and somehow managed to take a shot at him.

Just as Luis was about to shut the door, Nicholls did have his moment of clarity. He reached into the bucket and pulled out thousands of dollars worth of stained money.

"That's right, run you fucker. It's mine. All mine," Nicholls said in a voice that sounded like gravel crossed with fingernails on a blackboard. He was pulling the stained money out of the bucket and piling it next to him. As he spoke, blood foamed around his lips. Luis could see a trickle coming out of both nostrils, as well.

Nicholls tried to stand, and Luis found he was locked in place completely unable to move. He watched as another spasm racked the man's body. The spasm caused him to lose what little balance he had regained and he fell face first into the mop bucket. He watched as Nicholls lay on top of the bucket breathing deeply of the corrosive gas that was coming from the chemicals inside. Finally, he rolled off the bucket and landed on his back staring up at the ceiling. Luis could see that his face looked like it was trying to turn itself inside out, as if it was trying to vomit when there was nothing left inside. With one last series of machine gun jerks, he lay still. As the life left his muscles, Nicholls' head drooped toward the door where Luis was standing.

The eyes were open but lifeless. Blood was still flowing from the mouth and nose. Both fists were still clenched and holding wads of ruined cash.