97

In the blockaded street, where there were enough Suburbans in front of the Pellafino residence to stock a dealership, some of the gathered agents wanted to investigate the reason for all the gunfire in the house. Knowing better than anyone what drove their boss, what his intentions were, what gave him pleasure, and how much he hated underlings who thought for themselves, Louis Wong advised them to wait until Falkirk rang him to order the cleanup of the premises.

A high-pressure system of dry northern air had given them a rare meteorological condition called "severe clear," a vaulting sky of piercing blue, without the least filigree of clouds. The air was mild, the light inspiring. Those who served by waiting in the street had thermoses of coffee and boxes of doughnuts, and they were just as well paid to stand around shooting the shit as they were when they were in the thick of the action.