“’Ou know how it is, Juve.”
“I hoped this day wouldn’t have to come…” He rubbed something in his pocket.
“Yeh tried to feckin’ kill me twice Juve, yeh sold out on me, and yeh tried to cover yer own back! What worse can happen now?”
“I-I have to kill yeh Frank.”
The sadness, solidarity, anger, and frustration that had boiled in Frank was slowly releasing, but he knew he had to conserve it. “Didn’t have this much trouble last time. Look, yeh can still get out, yeh can still back away from this—yeh don’t have to stay in it!”
“Where are the police?”
Frank frowned. “I-you think they took me? I was gone before they could haul me there. Had to whack three of ‘em.”
“That won’t fly a whistle.”
“Neither will yeh life.”
Juve moved closer to Frank. “Are yeh threatin’ me?”
Frank walked towards his ex-pal. “Are you?”
“Look around, Frank. I was always smarter. The Street is here. The Whyos are comin’. What’s yer best card?”
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