lefty woke up.
he had been dreaming, as he often did, about being back in the pen.
the bus was in the lincoln tunnel, moving right along.
in a few minutes it would be in the port authority terminal.
the events of the bus ride came back to him. the driver making him check the bag with the frammis in it, the two punks - he could see one of them in front of him, slouched in his seat with his leg sticking out into the aisle - the girl with the flower in her hair, his own nervousness about somehow losing the frammis…
with the night over, and the end of the trip in sight, he felt a great relief…
it would all be over soon. duke would tell him what a great job he had done - well, maybe not, but at least he would not give him any grief - and they would walk out into the sunshine of 41st street, with the bag and the frammis safe in duke’s hands, and find an automat where he could get a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice and a creampuff.
lefty liked creampuffs, especially first thing in the morning.
the bus entered the terminal and pulled into its parking space behind the glass door that led to the waiting area.
duke and frankie and judy were nowhere in sight.
lefty was one of the last persons off the bus. the driver had already lifted the door of the luggage bay and was pulling the bags out onto the concrete where they were quickly grabbed by the passengers.
lefty saw his bag, one of only four left, and reached for it.
right away he knew something was wrong.
it was not his bag. it looked like his bag, plain brown and about the same size as his, but it was not his. and it had no lock on it.
and it was light. very light.
it was a zippered bag, and lefty pulled the zipper open and looked inside.
it was empty.
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