The winter of Frankie Machine

34

That’s certainly what Jimmy the Kid thinks.

Frankie M. is totally fucked.

Jimmy’s sitting in the car across the street. He’s in the passenger seat, rifle in his lap, waiting for the kill shot.

“You’re sure he went in?” Jimmy asks.

“I watched him,” Carlo says.

Carlo placed himself in the ice cream store across the road. He watched Frankie Machine drive by, then have lunch, then go into the bank. He could have taken the man out himself, except he had strict orders from Jimmy, who’d said, “You see him, you call me.” So Carlo called him, then got himself another ice cream-butter brickle this time.

Now Jimmy sits in the car, his foot tapping like a bass drummer in a heavy-metal band.

“Paulie, Jackie, and Joey are in back?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“You can call them, you want.”

Jimmy thinks about it, then decides against it. It would be just like Paulie to shout into the phone and tip off Frankie M. No, we want Frankie nice and confident. Let him come strolling through that door with his money in hand and happy thoughts in his head.

Thenblam.

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow…

“What’s taking so fucking long?” Jimmy asks.

Carlo doesn’t have time to answer, because, just then, sirens start wailing.

Police sirens.

Coming this way.

Carlo doesn’t wait for Jimmy to tell him to get in gear and get the fuck out of there.

It’s the obvious call.