I said: “Hurry up.”
Neilan turned and grinned at me. I could see his face a little as we passed a street light. He said: “Hurry up — what?”
“Hurry up.” The cold was beginning to get in to the pit of my stomach, and my legs. I wanted to be able to stand up. I wanted it standing up, if I could.
Neilan glanced out the rear window. He said: “I think our tail light’s out.”
The car slowed, stopped. We were pretty well out in the country by that time and the road was dark.
Neilan said: “See if we’ve got a tail light, Mac.”
McNulty grunted and reached up and opened the door and heaved himself up into the door. He stooped and put one foot out on the running board, and then Neilan reached in front of me very quickly. There was a gun in his hand and he put it close to McNulty’s back and shot him three times. The explosions were very close together. McNulty’s knees crumpled up and he fell out of the car on his face.
The car started again and the man who sat next to the driver reached back and slammed the door shut hard.
Neilan cleared his throat. He said: “Frank’s number has been up a long time. He’s been tipping our big deliveries, South; we haven’t got a truck through for two months.”
I could feel the blood getting back into my arms and legs. I wasn’t so cold and I could breathe without pain.