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THEY BACKED UP. From where he stood at the junction of the foyer and the dining room doorway, Nick saw what had to be Norman Driver and two of his men enter through the kitchen, glass crunching on their boots, the hard-headed construction boss at the lead with a pistol in his grip. Effie leveled the rifle at the approaching trio, but Nick put a hand on top of it, halting her. There was no telling whether Effie had calculated the odds of their situation or not. Maybe she had, and she was willing for them both to be blown apart rather than submit to Breecher, Driver, and the two crewmen. She was younger, hot-headed, and trigger happy. Nick took the rifle from Effie’s hands and leaned it against the umbrella stand. He was silent and calm, hands on Effie’s shoulders, as Breecher flicked her gun and motioned for them to follow Driver and his guys into the sitting room.

Vinny was motionless in his wheelchair, only his white-knuckled grip on the armrests indicating he felt anything more than he would watching another visitor to the house enter the room. Driver’s men drew the blinds. Breecher pushed Nick and Effie into the corner of the room while Driver leveled his pistol at Vinny’s head.

“You got any more talking to do, old man?” Driver asked the ancient gangster in the chair.

“Yeah, sure.” Vinny smiled. “I want to tell you this: It’s gonna be busy down there in hell. You might think you’ll slip by me in the crowd. But you won’t. I’m gonna be there, holding the door open for you.”

Driver smiled. Vinny grinned back.

“I know I won’t be waitin’ long,” Vinny said.

Nick and Effie gripped each other as Driver fired. Vinny’s head bucked and he sagged dead in his chair.