The winter of Frankie Machine

31

Frank takes a left on Nautilus Street and pulls off the road at Windansea.

Sherm’s single word, Run, let him know that The Nickel is hot.

On a normal day, he’d relish the chance to come to Windansea, the legendary surf spot. Especially on a day when the break is going off and some of the world’s best surfers will be out. But this isn’t a normal day. This is a day when somebody is waiting to kill him.

Let them wait, Frank thinks.

He flirts briefly with the idea of driving into La Jolla anyway and just letting the chips fall.

They don’t know what car you’re driving, and, better, they don’t know that you know that they’re there. On the downside, you don’t know who they are, or how many, or where they are. All you know is that they-whoever “they” are-will be hanging close to Sherm’s office. And besides, what do you gain even if you “win” a shoot-out in the crowded shopping district on La Jolla Boulevard?

Life without parole.

So don’t be stupid, he tells himself.

He pulls out of the parking lot and heads east on Nautilus, then south on La Jolla Scenic Drive, then east on Soledad Mountain Road out to the 5. Then he drives north to the 78 and heads east.