"You know another way?"

Suddenly, Elmo Wimpler knew that he was not going to take his own life. Suddenly, he knew that his days as a wimp were over. Suddenly, he felt power. Power over life and death.

He took a deep breath and stepped out into the view of the two men.

"What? the . . . ?" one yelled.

"Who are you?" the other snarled.

"The answer to your problem," Wimpler said with confidence and a sureness he had never felt before. "Whoever it is you want iced, I can do it."

"Wha ... ?" said Jack.

"You?" Tony asked, unbelievingly. Elmo knew

what they were thinking: that he was a clown. He s™, , „ . , . „ „ „,.

u a u 11 a n n, i a Thank you. Tomorrow night. Two a.m.," Wim-

had been called all those names: clown, nerd, wimp. Jb '

"Whàt've we got to lose, Jack?" he finally said.

Jack sighed, then nodded. He looked at Wimpler. "How much?"

Elmo cleared his throat. He hadn't thought about money.

"Would a thousand dollars be too much?" he asked.

"You do the job, you get ten thousand dollars," Jack said.

"This person will be dead tomorrow night," Wimpler said. "Tell me who he is and where he is."

They told him. He was a big-time gangster, now a federal witness, testifying to save his own skin. He was being hidden out on a large, private estate in Westchester County, surrounded by cops, FBI agents, and who knew what else.

"Be here tomorrow night. Two a.m.," Wimpler said. "And bring the money."

"All right," said Jack.

"I need an advance," said Wimpler.

"How much?" Jack asked, reaching into his

pocket.

All Wimpler could think of was a steak dinner. He decided to think big. "Twenty dollars," he said.

Jack leafed through the hundred dollar bills in his he found a lone twenty and handed it