“The local cops in the town where the bank is, the state police, and the FBI. It was a bank job, remember? That’s federal. Where are you living?”

“I’m in a nice motel a couple of miles from here.”

“You’d be smart to buy yourself a condo while the market is still favorable.”

“Yeah, I guess. How much would that cost me?”

“At least two, three hundred thousand. You can spend a lot more, of course. My point is, you’ve got to establish yourself as a solid citizen, somebody no one would ever suspect of doing bank jobs. Might be a good idea to buy a small business, use it as a cover.”

“Good idea.”

“And stop doing jobs for a while—let things cool off. If the cops think there’s somebody new in town, knocking off this and that, pretty soon they’ll have a task force hunting you. You know how burglars work?”

“I was never a burglar.”

“They case a place, do it, then wait for the owner to replace all his goods, then they do it again.”

“You mean I should do the same bank again?”

“Why not? Give it three, six months, let things return to normal, then repeat. They’re not going to have any more security than they had before. They’ve already got cameras, alarms, an armed guard. What else are they going to add?”

“I see your point.”

“I hope you see my point about letting things cool—you’ll stay out of the joint that way.”

“I hate to pass up the one I’ve got in mind.”

“It’ll still be there a few months from now.”

“You want to hear about the job I have in mind?”

Frank shrugged. “I’ll pay a finder’s fee or a percentage.”

Charlie began to explain, and Frank thought it wasn’t half bad. “Let me talk it over with my partner, and I’ll let you know. In the meantime, take a vacation. You ever been down to the Keys?”

“No, but I hear it’s nice.”

“It’s better than that. Take a drive. I’ll be in touch.”

“You’re right, Frank, I’ll take your advice.” Charlie shook his hand and left.

Frank began to think about Charlie’s job; it had possibilities, he thought.

Gene Ryan woke on Saturday morning, his mouth dry, his head hurting and very fuzzy around the edges. It took him a minute to realize that it was his cell phone that had awakened him. “Hello?” Ryan croaked.

“Hey, Gene, it’s Al. How you doin’?”

“What time is it?”

“Hey, as bad as that, is it? It’s after nine—AM.”

“Shit.”

“Listen, I need to talk to you about something. Meet me at that diner down the block from you in an hour. I’ll buy you brunch.”

“What’s this about?”

“Work.” Al hung up.

—

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Ryan shuffled into the diner and located Al in a corner booth. “Coffee,” he said to the passing waitress, then joined Al.

“This better be good,” Ryan said as he slid into the booth. “Getting me up at the crack of dawn.”

Al laughed at that. They ordered breakfast and chatted idly. When the food was set on the table, Al got down to business.

“I got something sweet.”

“How sweet?”

“Maybe a hundred and a half—you and me take eighty percent.”

“Who gets the other twenty?”

“My cousin Vinny, like the movie.”

“What’s the job?”

“A poker game, a fat one. I’ve been playing in it for three weeks. Sometimes there’s two hundred grand changing hands.”

“Tell me more.”

“It’s in a pretty good motel on 17 North. The room is on the ground floor with two doors. The back one leads to the alley where they pick up the garbage. Six guys, all of them businessmen, no wise guys.”

“Go on.”

“I’m at the table, you and Vinny come in the two doors, you’ve got that sawed-off shotgun of yours. That will scare the shit out of everybody.”

“Are you carrying?”

“Nope, I’m a victim. You make everybody empty their pockets onto the table, then take the table blanket, cards, money, and all, and beat it out the back door, where Vinny has a car stashed. We meet at your place, as soon as I can get out, and divvy the money.”

“How do I know Vinny can handle this?”

“Because I say so. He’s a cool kid—it’s not his first job.”

“Are you the newest guy in the game?”

“There’s one newer by a week.”

“How’ve you been doing?”

“I’m up a couple grand for the three weeks. One of the players brought in a pro dealer, who, turns out, is a mechanic. I figure tonight I’ll win pretty big, and next week, they’ll lower the boom on me. Except you and me and Vinny will already have lowered the boom on them.”

“Okay, I’m in. When?”

“Tonight.”

“That’s not much time for planning.”

“The planning is all done. You just heard my plan.” Al looked toward the door. “Here comes Vinny.”

Vinny was lean and obscenely barbered, with a fashionable two days of stubble. He didn’t say much.

“I told him the plan,” Al said.

“I like the plan,” Ryan said, “but Vinny has got to understand: nobody gets hurt. No shooting, no blows to the head. This is an illegal game, so nobody is calling the cops—unless somebody gets hurt, then we’re in the shit.”

“Got it,” Vinny said. It was the first time he had spoken.

—

Ryan went back to his apartment, got a duffel off the top shelf of his closet, and dumped the shotgun onto the bed. It was an old-fashioned, open-hammer scattergun with the barrel sawed off to about four inches. Vinny had fired it into a target: from ten feet it had a pattern the size of a basketball.

He cleaned the weapon, dropped a couple of double-ought shells into it, and closed it. It couldn’t fire until he pulled back the hammers.

—

Al dropped off Vinny at his mother’s house. “You okay with Gene?” he asked the young man.

“No problem, I guess.”

“You guess? What does that mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“You do understand why nobody gets hurt?”

“Yeah, nobody gets hurt, nobody calls the cops. But, Al . . .”

“Yeah?”

“What if somebody’s packin’?”

“Don’t worry about it. Nobody in this crowd packs.”

“If you say so,” Vinny replied. “But if somebody draws, we’re in a whole new poker game.”

Al sat at the poker table and glanced at his hand again. He raised. The dealer dealt another card, and Al watched his face instead of his hands. He had already learned that the guy was too good a mechanic to make a move you could see. His face was something else, though. As he dealt Al’s next card there was a tiny smile.

Al forced himself not to look at his watch, on being completely caught up in the game. He wanted to be as surprised as everyone else at the table. When the two doors were simultaneously kicked in, he flinched with the best of them and looked around. Two men in masks and black clothes came into the room, one with a semiautomatic pistol held out in front of him and the other with a mean-looking sawed-off shotgun.