"Evening," Joe said, exhaling cigarette smoke from his mouth as he spoke. He had the glowing butt of a Marlboro in his beefy left hand and he flicked it away into the dark. 

"Joe the Jew," said Mike LeBeau. "What the fuck?"

"I know," replied Joe. "Of all the poorly-lit parking lots in all the towns in all the fucking world, you walk into mine."

Joe and LeBeau knew each other from the Life, always Life with a capital L. That was part of the reason why Joe hung back every time they dealt with LeBeau. Before it was simple enough stuff. You give him cash, you get drugs. A monkey could do it. But tonight rough stuff was in order so Joe was front and center. That was alright with him. The group had been spending the last few weeks working up the nerve to pull the trigger when the time came. For Joe that wouldn't be a problem. It wouldn't be a problem either for the rest of them after their first time. That's something nobody realized about killing. It wasn't that it was too hard; it was too damn easy. They had debated about tonight and if they could do it. It was exactly why Joe took point. Mike LeBeau was a rat. Didn't matter if there was doubt from the others, the people above them said he was a rat. And rats had to be killed. Simple as that.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Serving my country," he said with a grin. 

"Strange fucking bedfellows," said LeBeau.

It was true but not without precedent. The Wops worked with the government back during the Big One to cause chaos in Italy and Sicily. Then they worked with the CIA to try to wack Castro. Joe saw himself carrying out the grand tradition of wiseguys coming together to fight America's enemies. Like all mob guys he was a capitalist through and through. The way he saw it, he was gonna whack guys regardless so why not do it for his country?

"So where's the shit, Mike?"

"Where's the money, Joe?"

Joe nodded towards Ben and let out a short bark of a laugh.

"The fucking hayseed over there has your cash."