The winter of Frankie Machine

90

Dave Hansen waits until the senator’s press conference is almost over.

The senator stands behind the podium, flashing his trademark smile to the reporters, and asks, “Are there any more questions?”

Dave raises his hand.

The senator smiles down at him and nods.

“Do you know your rights?” Dave asks.

The senator looks at quizzically.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Dave says, stepping up toward the platform. Two Secret Service guys get in his way, but Dave holds up his FBI badge and pushes through them.

“Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law,” Dave says as he twists the senator’s hands behind his back and cuffs him.

Cameras are going off, and the bright video lights are striking Dave full in the face. He doesn’t care. “You have the right to an attorney-”

“This is ridiculous,” the senator says. “This is just a political-”

“-and if you cannot afford one,” Dave says, smirking, “one will be appointed for you.”

“What am I being arrested for?”

“The murder of Summer Lorensen,” Dave says.

He starts walking the senator through the crowd, heading toward the waiting car. The media are closing in around them like a crosscurrent in the impact zone. Dave opens the door, pushes the senator’s head down, nudges him into the seat, and closes the door again.

He gets into the front passenger seat and tells the intimidated young agent to step on the gas.

Dave’s in a hurry.

He’s already missed the Gentlemen’s Hour.

And he doesn’t want to be late for Frank Machianno’s funeral.