They parked in the garage next door to Gino’s office building. “C’mon,” Frank said. Charlie followed him next door and inside. On Gino’s floor, Frank said, “Stay by the door, don’t let nobody in.”

Charlie nodded and took up his station. Frank went in and found Gino at his desk.

“What’s the problem, Frank?” Gino asked. “I’ll be late for dinner.”

“Problem is, you owe me two grand,” Frank said. He tossed a list of his expenses on Gino’s desk.

“You ain’t done nothing yet,” Gino said.

“I got the better part of a week in this, and I got expenses, just like you.”

Gino sighed. “My girl’s gone—she’ll give you a check tomorrow.”

“I’ll need cash,” Frank said.

“I don’t keep that much cash around,” Gino said.

“Don’t start, Gino, I know you got it.” He unbuttoned his jacket and let the grip of the pistol show.

“You strong-arming me?” Gino asked.

“If you insist.”

Gino glared at him, then he went to a safe across the room, opened it, and took out a stack of cash and counted out some hundreds.

Frank watched, counting with him. Gino got to twenty.

Frank walked across the room and took the money, then stood over Gino, who was bending over to close the safe. Frank’s foot stopped the door. “Thanks, Gino,” Frank said, shooting him in the back of the head. When he was sprawled on the floor, Frank reached inside the safe and took the rest of the stack of cash, then closed the safe door and spun the dial. He shot Gino once more in the head for luck, then left.

“How’d you do?” Charlie asked as he came out the door.

“In the car,” Frank said. When they were back in the front seat, Frank took out the twenty hundreds Gino had given him and counted out half. He handed the money to Charlie. “He settled.”

“What did you do?”

“I settled him, the son-of-a-bitch cheapskate. We need a new gig.”

—

Farther downtown on the West Side a cop seven months away from handing in his papers sat in front of a collection of screens and recorders. He took off his headset and made a call. “Hey, it’s me. I think we got a murder at Gino Parisi’s office. Shooter used a silencer. Name of Frank.”

—

Stone was having an early-evening drink with Ian Rattle in his study when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino, with news.”

“I love news, if it’s good.”

“It’s double good. Frank Russo offed Gino Parisi.”

“Wow! How about that! Frankly, I didn’t expect such decisive results.”

“Nice thing is, we got the preceding conversation recorded, so not only is Gino out of the way, but so are Frank and Charlie, or they will be as soon as we find them.”

“A triple play. Wow.”