“The monkeys told me I’d find you here,” Jackson said.

“My father always told me not to trust anyone you pay in fruit,” Lowe replied. “Now I see why.”

“It wasn’t easy. They wanted a year’s supply of bananas and tiny hats. It cost the department a fair amount of money, if that gives you any comfort.”

“It doesn’t. Those monkeys were organ grinders when I found them. I gave them a home, all the trees and bananas they wanted, and two weeks off for Christmas. They owed me!”

“They don’t owe you nothin’, Lowe. You turned those good monkeys bad. You made them think you gave them a better life, when all you did was make them help you hurt innocent people. It’s over, Lowe.”

Lowe sighed and hung his head. Suddenly, he stood up behind his desk, gun in hand.

“Nothing’s over, Jackson!” he bellowed. Jackson dove for cover behind a large sofa as Lowe fired twice. Lowe turned and dived through the window behind his desk, out onto the fire escape. He climbed toward the roof.

Jackson climbed to his feet and drew his gun.