The Sting Page #2

The stranger makes a dash for the wallet and kicks it back

to where Mottola is standing. Almost by reflex, Mottola

picks it up. The thief scrambles to his feet and starts

back toward his new-found enemy, brandishing a knife. Both

the stranger and Mottola brace themselves for an attack.

The thief, realizing that there are two people to fight,

begins to think better of it. He is not a young man, nor

particularly strong.

THIEF:

(shaking his fist at

the stranger)

You f***in' n*gger-lover. I'll get

you for this someday, sucker egg.

Mottola and the stranger exchange glances of relief as the

thief flees out onto the street and disappears.

The black man, meanwhile, has struggled to his feet and is

staggering toward them. He collapses against the alley wall

after a few steps. The stranger rushes over to him, followed

somewhat absently by Mottola.

BLACK MAN:

The wallet. You gotta go after him.

He's got all the money.

STRANGER:

Don't worry, we got the wallet.

What happened? He get ya with the

knife?

The stranger opens the Black Man's coat to reveal a bloody

wound at the top of his leg.

BLACK MAN:

(trying to move)

Give it to me! Please. I gotta

know it's all there!

STRANGER:

You just sit tight, old man. We're

gonna have to get you to a doctor.

(starting to leave)

I'll call a cop.

BLACK MAN:

No, no cops!

Mottola has given him his wallet, which the black man now

opens, disclosing a fat bundle of bills tied by a rubber

band. Mottola and the stranger are amazed by the amount of

money.

STRANGER:

(a little uneasy)

You wanted by the law or somethin'?

BLACK MAN:

Naw, it's okay.

STRANGER:

You're crazy carryin' that kinda

money in this neighborhood. No

wonder you got hit.

BLACK MAN:

(trying to get to his feet)

Thanks. I'm obliged to ya, but I

gotta get goin'.

(his leg gives way

under him)

STRANGER:

You ain't goin' nowhere on that leg.

BLACK MAN:

I gotta! Look, I run some slots

down in West Bend for a mob here.

I got a little behind on my payoffs

so they figure I been holdin' out

on 'em. They gave me to 4:00 to

come up with the cash. I don't get

it there I'm dead.

STRANGER:

It don't look good, gramps, it's

ten of now.

BLACK MAN:

I got a hundred bucks for you and

your friend if you deliver the

money for me.

STRANGER:

(hesitates)

I dunno. That little mug that got

ya is mad enough at me already --

what if he's out there waitin'

around a corner with some friends.

BLACK MAN:

He won't know you're carryin' it.

C'mon, you gotta help me out.

STRANGER:

(makes up his mind)

Sorry, pal. I'll fix you up, call

you a doc, but I ain't gonna walk

into a bunch of knives for ya.

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