Big Tom opened his eyes. Harry had the door open on the other side of the car, was leaning in, his face not more than six inches from Big Tom’s. “I’ll get you t’ Doc. You remember Doc. He won’t like it,” Harry whispered, “but he’ll do it.” He grunted, pushed Tom erect, got him propped into the other corner of the seat. “Where’s the key? Tom, Tom!” He was slapping Tom’s face.

“Shirt . . . pocket.”

Harry squeezed into the seat, poked into the pocket, got a closer look at the mess on Tom’s clothes. “Jeez! My God, it’s like a sieve. I’ve really got t’ get you t’ Doc!”

“You . . . really . . . do,” Tom whispered in answer.

The motor hummed into life. Harry let in the clutch. “You had a gun? How come you didn’t use it?”

“Surprise . . .”

“What about the dough?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they . . . got it. Old woman’s dead.”

“What?” Harry’s voice was a yelp.

“Dead . . . inna . . .” Too hard to say; he’d forgotten the other word. “Dead,” he repeated simply.

“You plugged her?”

“Already dead.”

“Who did it then? Who plugged you, for God’s sake?”

“The punk.” Big Tom fell over against Harry, and Harry had to fight to hold onto the wheel, to keep from crashing into a row of parked cars. “Hey, look, you’re getting blood all over me! You got t’ bleed like that? You got t’ bleed on my clothes?”

Big Tom’s answer was a hoarse, dragging breath which died in a sudden strangle. Harry drew the car into a side street, slowed down, studied Big Tom’s bobbing face anxiously.

“You okay?”

Big Tom’s mouth opened; he lifted a hand aimlessly as if to locate his lips, to see why they no longer obeyed his commands, no longer formed words, just hung loosely and fluttered with his breath. As the hand lifted, his head bowed as if to meet it. His whole body staggered forward to crash against the front of the car.

Blood began to drip heavily to the floor.

“Hey!” Harry waited a moment, looking out anxiously—this was a quiet residential street, old houses set close together in a lot of shrubs and flowers. Harry licked his lips, swallowed several times. His face was greenish in the light from the dash. “Tom?” he said softly.

The dripping was slowly decreasing and there was no answer from Big Tom, not even the sound of a breath.