“That’s up to you,” Corey shrugged. “You’re the dealer here.” And in his brain he looked at the cards he was holding. He saw four cards, a ten, a jack, a queen and a king. He sat there waiting and hoping.

Come on, he spoke without sound to Delbert Kingsley. Come on, dealer, deal me that ace.

Kingsley was gazing thoughtfully at the floor. Some moments passed and then he said to Corey, “All right, let’s try it this way—you make the trip with me and Lita. That is, you’ll navigate. We pick up the loot, you get your split then and there. If it’s cross-up, you get this,” and from under his shirt he pulled out a .38.

Without sound Corey said, Thank you dealer man.

Ernie was saying, “What about me and Gene?”

“You and Gene stay here,” Kingsley said.

“What for?”

“A caper like this, the less the better.”

“How you mean?”

“Less chance of a foul-up,” Kingsley said.

“That ain’t how I see it,” Ernie grumbled. “The way I see it, we oughta—”

“You starting again?” Lita frowned at Ernie.

“I’m only saying—”

“You’re saying nothing,” Kingsley cut him off. “You’ll do what you’re told and that’s all. I’m getting tired of your goddam yapping. I’m trying to do some thinking here, and you stand there running your fat mouth. With noise coming out. Just noise.”

“It’s more than noise,” Ernie stood his ground. “I’m makin’ a point and you know it. You hit for that cash, me and Gene should be there when it happens. Ain’t that right, Gene?”

The colored man looked at Ernie, looked at Kingsley, then at Ernie again. Kingsley and Lita exchanged a glance. Kingsley smiled pleasantly at Ernie and Gene and said to them, “Now look, you two wanna talk it over, that’s all right with me.”

They hesitated a moment. Then they moved off to one side and commenced a whispered conference. They had their backs to Kingsley. His pleasant smile remained pleasant as he aimed the .38 and pulled the trigger and almost in the same split second, aimed again and pulled the trigger.

On the floor the colored man was facedown, motionless. Ernie was on his knees, coughing and bringing up blood. He crawled toward Delbert Kingsley. He was weeping and the tears dripped down, mixing with the blood that spilled out of his mouth. He said to Delbert Kingsley, “Why’d you do that? Did you hafta do that?”

Kingsley nodded slowly.

“No,” Ernie wept. “No, you didn’t hafta do that. Not that.” He coughed again and fell over on his side. His mouth opened wide, making an effort to pull some air into his lungs. But before he could do that, his body became rigid.

“Check him,” Kingsley said to Lita.

She went over to Ernie, examined him and said, “He’s done.”

“Check the jig.”