The winter of Frankie Machine

60

He doesn’t see it coming.

That’s the thing. Fatigue, heartache, the sheer grind of being on the run combine to make him careless.

Of course they wouldn’t hit him at a protected witness’s house. That would be giving the game away. They wouldn’t hit him close, but wait until he was miles away, then do it.

And make it look like an accident.

So he doesn’t see it until it’s too late.

The silver Lexus coming up behind him fast, then-

A black Envoy-a big, heavy SUV-roars up, passes the Lexus, and pulls alongside Frank.

Jimmy the Kid’s in the Envoy, bopping his head up and down like he’s listening to some of that hip-hop crap, then smiles at Frank and jerks his wheel to the right.

The Envoy bumps into Frank’s car, sending it toward the edge of the cliff.

Frank manages to correct it, but Jimmy rams him again.

The physics are against him. Something the businessman in Frank knows is that numbers never lie; arithmetic is absolute. A heavier vehicle at greater speed is always going to win the contest. He tries to pull out, letting off the gas so he can cut behind the Envoy, but the Lexus has him boxed in and bangs him forward. Frank’s only hope is that a car comes up the other way and forces the Envoy to swerve, but even that wouldn’t be any good, because there’d be no place for the Envoy to go and some citizen would get killed.

Which is the only thing I can say for myself, Frank thinks. I never took out anyone who wasn’t in the game.

Only players.

He manages to stay on the road for the top part of the sweeping curve, but physics are physics-numbers don’t lie-and the bottom half is too much for the little rental car, especially when Jimmy the Kid bashes into it again to make sure.

Frank looks over and sees Jimmy waving bye-bye.

Then he goes over the edge.