“How are you going to do that?” Vespucci asked.
I outlined my plan to him. Cranston was awake now, listening with interest. Vespucci’s eyes glowed with intensity, not missing a word. When I came to the end of my summation, my last words hung in the air, surrounded by the electric silence in the room. Vespucci didn’t take his eyes from mine. I held his stare, feeling it important that he see I spoke the truth.
Cranston was the first to speak. “I told you he was no dummy.”
Vespucci accepted Cranston’s words without comment, looking in the opposite direction at his lieutenant. Joey returned Vespucci’s gaze, locking eyes with him. Silent understanding passed between them.
Vespucci turned back to me. “Do it.”
Once Vespucci gave his assent, everything started happening quickly. He and Joey left Cranston’s office immediately after I’d given them clear instructions for the evening. In the overall plan, Vespucci had very little to do except wait. Taking advantage of Cranston’s office, I put my plan into motion. I printed up a second copy of the “Love Story of Marco and Maggie,” packaging them both, sticking a note on the cover specifically for its intended receiver, then calling a same day messenger delivery service for pickup. When the messenger showed up twenty minutes later, I pulled him aside. I handed him a one-hundred dollar bill, telling him he would need to deliver the packages to different addresses than what I had logged with the dispatcher and he would need to use discretion. A twenty-something face stared back at me with a grin. I asked him if he understood. He nodded. I asked him if he had any questions. He shook his head. Something struck me as odd about the way he responded, prompting me to ask him if he could answer by saying yes. He raised his hands, hitting me with a flurry of hand movements. I blinked, confused for a moment.
“You’re deaf?”
He nodded matter-of-factly.
“Oh.” I felt stupid. But then I wondered how he understood my directions. “Wait, how do you know what—”
He interrupted me with his hands again, but kept it simple for my own thickheaded edification, pointing first to his eye, then to his lips.
“You read lips?” I asked.
Again, the matter-of-fact nod of the head. I smiled, embarrassed for giving him a difficult time.
“Great. Then on your way. Godspeed.”
I don’t know why I said “Godspeed,” but something about this whole experience made me feel like every action carried a level of heightened importance. With the grin still planted on his face, my twenty-something deaf delivery boy grabbed the packages under his arm, turned his back on me, and hustled out the door. As I turned towards the elevator, Donovan was standing a few feet behind, a bemused look on his face.
“What?”
He just shook his head and smiled. In the War Room, my new nickname for Cranston’s office, I called Cranston’s restaurant, making reservations for two. By this time, it was late afternoon and the sun was fading in the sky, slowly layering the office in shadow. I stepped up to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. Luci moved up beside me.
“Looks like we have snow coming.”
Donovan joined us at the window. “I think you’re right.”
Shoulder to shoulder, we stared out at the Manhattan sky, the buildings breaking the lower half of our vision, an uneven multitude of shapes zigzagging horizontally across the horizon with a large mass of dark clouds forming a roof of power above, preparing to unleash its white fury upon the unsuspecting structures below. In the distance, I caught the glimpse of a plane climbing into the sky, centered between the tops of the buildings below and the dark mass of clouds above. I watched the plane gain altitude, inexorably climbing toward visual extinction within the cloud mass. I blinked and the plane was gone. The vision created an eerie feeling in my gut. I turned away from the window, surveying Cranston’s office. Paintings of famous black figures covered the walls. A large, elongated, deeply colored picture of the French Alps took up another wall. Except for Luci, Donovan, and me, the office was empty. Cranston had left to check on Judith, who had not been feeling well the last few days.
I glanced at the old school clock ticking above the double doors. Fifteen minutes had passed since my deaf messenger had left with the packages. Unless I was completely remiss, I would receive a phone call within the hour that would put my plan into play. But first, I needed to make a few calls to get the ball rolling. I pulled a business card out of my wallet, dialing a number I never thought I’d be using. After several rings, a voice picked up on the other end.
“Ted Williams” came the voice.
I had put my phone on speaker so Luci and Donovan could hear.
“This is Jon Fixx.” My response was met with silence. “We need to talk.”
Williams thought I was on a plane. “Where are you?”
“Not in Los Angeles.”
“Jon, you’re swimming in deep waters here.”
“Then it’s good I brought two tanks down with me. I’ll have enough oxygen to stay under for awhile.”
“You should be careful. I’ve gone diving quite a bit. Those tanks have a way of malfunctioning.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“What do you want to talk about?” he said, a nonchalance slipping into his voice. He’d regained his composure.
“This ’n that. About why you’ve been following me around since I got to New York. About Tony Vespucci. About Marco Balducci. About Italy.”
There was a long sigh on the other end. I pegged Williams for one of those slow-to-anger sadistic types. Rather than expressing his anger through a modicum of yelling and screaming, he went inward, becoming calm, thoughtful. He probably relished interrogation, torture.
“Jon Fixx. May I remind you that you are nothing more than a hack writer whose ex-girlfriend was sleeping with my cousin long before you two split? And there were others before him. I tell you this only to remind you of your place in life. So I ask you, what are you doing here, Jon? This isn’t Little League. You are severely lacking the talent to play in the majors. You can’t even keep your girlfriend in line, what makes you think you can handle this?”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying not to rise to the bait. For a moment, I saw Sara’s image. Were there others, I wondered? I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I opened my eyes and took another deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Sara aside. “I guess it’s good she’s with your cousin now, then. I’ve heard French men have a penchant for loose women. You’re French too, right, Ted?”
That was met with silence. Donovan tapped his index finger on his wrist, indicating I shouldn’t keep the call going too long.
“Look, Ted, I’d love to talk with you about your sexual predilections, but I’ve never paid for sex so I can’t speak from experience. We need to meet tonight.”
“For what purpose?”
“There’s a package waiting for you at your office. Read it. I’ll call you in two hours with instructions.” I hung up, trading glances with Donovan, then Luci. “Think he’ll go for it?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Luci answered.
My phone started to buzz, the sound making me jump. I didn’t realize until that moment how tense I was. I checked the number on my PDA. It was a Brooklyn exchange. Marco Balducci’s number. I let it ring two more times before answering.
“Hello.”
“You have no proof of any of this,” Marco hissed across the phone line.
“I’ve got more proof than you know.”
“What do you want?”
“Tonight, 7 p.m. Fanelli’s. Come alone. And I mean alone, Marco. No eavesdroppers. No thugs. Just me and you, see if we can come to an understanding.”
“What have you told Maggie?”
“Nothing yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“You have no idea who you’re fuc
kin’ with!”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Marco. I have a very clear idea of who I’m fucking with.”
“You have no proof of any of the shit you’ve written here.”
“Think Tony Vespucci will see it that way? 7 p.m. Come alone. Don’t be late.” I hung up the phone before he could respond and swear at me some more. “Think he’ll show?”
Donovan responded, “Does he have a choice?”
I pondered the question, trying to put myself in Marco’s shoes, wondering what he would consider to be his options. Killing me would be one option. I hoped he didn’t choose that one right out of the gate. I guessed he would feel out Vespucci to see what he knew, then would base his plan of attack on that. I decided it didn’t matter what Marco considered his options to be as long as he showed up.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and prepared for the last call I needed to make before the evening. I had to tell Maggie I was leaving and that I wouldn’t be finishing the project, and do it without giving her any hint that the next few hours would define the direction of her life. I picked up the phone, dialed her number, and listened as the phone rang on the other end, once, twice, three times. I hoped it would go to voicemail, though I wasn’t sure how much I should say in the message, when suddenly I heard her voice on the other end.
“Hello.” Her voice was missing some of its usual warmth.
“Hi, Maggie.”
There was a brief pause. Maggie was still reeling from the night before, probably confused and unsure what it all meant. That put me on unsafe ground with her.
“Jon, what happened last night? I’ve been unable to reach Marco or my father today, and I want someone to explain to me what the hell that was all about.”
“Me too, Maggie.” I paused, not sure how to continue. I needed Maggie to think I was out of the picture. I didn’t want her anywhere near that restaurant tonight. I pushed forward. “I’m sorry it happened. I’m more sorry I can’t finish the project for you.”
“Because of last night?”
Well, let me see, shall I name the reasons? One, your fiancé is an asshole. Two, he’s a killer. In fact, three, I’m sure he would fall into the definition of a sociopath. How’s that for reasons, Maggie? I said, “Given the exchange between Marco and me last night, I don’t think it’s feasible for me to continue working with you both.”
I was met with silence. I glanced out the windows of Cranston’s office, realizing that daylight had receded, the dark of night settling over the Manhattan skyline. Snow began to fall. It had been many years since I’d seen the first snow of the season. Maggie’s voice suddenly brought me back to the present.
“Jon, what happened between you and Marco? What are you not telling me?”
For a split second, I debated telling her the truth about her monster of a fiancé, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. For now, she needed to be kept in the dark. I needed to catch Marco unawares, and I needed leverage. As far as he was concerned, no one else knew his secret and he would do whatever he needed to keep it that way. “Maggie, I’m really sorry.”
“Is this because of what Marco said about you last night? Your feelings for me?”
Oh, geez, I should have known this would not be easy. What should I say to that? Yeah, Maggie, I’m in love with you, and that’s why I can’t write this story. Fuck it, why not? “To be honest, Maggie, that’s the one thing Marco and I can agree on. He wasn’t wrong.”
“Oh.”
That was it. I knew what that meant. Oh, well, that’s too bad you feel that way, Jon, because in case you didn’t notice, I’m in love with another man, and even after you are instrumental in trying to destroy his life in a few hours, thereby breaking my heart when I discover the truth, I’ll never fall in love with you because you’re not in my league.
“Have you spoken with my father about this?” Maggie asked.
“Yes. It was his idea I go home.”
She didn’t respond. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I knew I needed to get off the phone before I started blabbering about what was really going on.
“Maggie, I have to go.” I struggled with how to finish the conversation without being too abrupt. “I’m sorry.”
“I am too.”
I hung up, staring at the phone in my hand. Finally, I looked up. Donovan and Luci were watching me from the window.
“How’d she take it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Put her out of your head for the rest of the night, Jon. You can’t have any distractions. Don’t take this lightly. You’ve laid the trap, but for Marco it’s all about survival. He’s going to do whatever he feels is necessary to protect himself.” Donovan’s eyes bored into mine. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You’re saying I better be prepared for anything?”
“You know what they say about battle? The advantage always goes to the side that can adapt to and incorporate the unpredictable changes that occur during the conflict. Pre-battle plans become secondary to the unforeseen changes that occur while the forces engage.”
“Okay.”
Luci crossed over to me. “Don’t worry. If it goes sideways, we’ll be right there.” He patted me on the back reassuringly.
I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 5:22 p.m. I had ninety-eight minutes left before the official showdown. I looked at each of my companions in turn. I saw calm and strength in their gazes. I tried to take comfort from their looks, from knowing they would be nearby, but a solid, quiet fear was creeping up my legs into my belly. There would be no room for that when Marco showed up. I stuck my phone in my pocket and zipped up my coat, indicating it was time to go. I grabbed my computer, shoving it inside my jacket.
“All right, let’s go.”
One at a time, we exited Cranston’s office and headed for the elevator. We found our way down to the lobby and retraced our steps through the building and back to the alley. Upon our exit, the driver’s door quickly opened and Cheryl hopped out of the car. She hustled to the passenger’s side back door, opening it for us to climb in.
“All is well, I hope?” she asked.
“So far. Thanks, Cheryl,” I said as I climbed into the roomy back seat. Donovan and Luci followed, each mumbling a thank you, all of us still having trouble letting a woman open the door for us.
Cheryl climbed back into the driver’s seat, looking in the rearview. “Mr. Jefferson said I’m at your disposal for the evening? Where to?”
I told her and she nodded. A moment later we were moving.
Luci turned to me. “What do you think Williams will do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve given that a lot of thought. They have to tread lightly, because if they make their presence known around Marco, they run the risk of blowing his cover, so I think they’re in a corner. They can’t do much.”
So many thoughts were crisscrossing my mind I did my best to slow it all down. What if Marco didn’t show up? What if the FBI moved in before I could get the truth out? What contingencies had I overlooked?
The sound of Luci’s phone interrupted my thoughts. He flipped his phone open, putting it to his ear. “Go.” Without speaking, he listened intently for close to a minute. “Thanks. I owe you. Next time you’re in L.A. Okay.” He hung up, satisfaction on his face. “Her name is Louisa Adduci.”
I nodded, a tight smile on my face. The pieces were falling into place. As we drove through rush hour traffic, I wondered what I was missing. What was I not thinking about? Finally, I decided there was no point in thinking about it anymore. I’d laid the trap. As Donovan said, if something went wrong, I’d have to adapt. I started wondering how adaptable I was.
Guess I was about to find out.
14 Early November – New York – 3rd Trip
Fanelli’s was packed, not an empty table to be found anyw
here. The bar was overflowing too, every stool taken with more people standing shoulder to shoulder, vying for space anywhere they could find it. I was strategically seated in the back corner with a clear angle of the front door. Off to my left, the bar ran the length of the restaurant, ending near the kitchen doors just out of my visual range.
My eyes were glued on the front door, waiting for Marco’s arrival. I hadn’t expected it to be so busy, and I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad for my plan. With so many people, it would be easier for one of Marco’s cronies to blend in with the crowd unnoticed. I glanced away from the front door momentarily to scan the people at the bar, but it was far too crowded for me to see every face. I decided this was a positive because I hoped Marco wouldn’t try anything stupid with so many witnesses. Then again, maybe he’d shoot me with a silencer, lay my head down on the table, and leave before anyone even noticed I was dead.
I was hyperaware and extremely tense. I had no idea how Marco would react or what he would do, and time was moving at an excruciatingly slow pace. I glanced down at my laptop on the table before me, the screen open to Marco and Maggie’s story, the cursor blinking at an even pace, patiently waiting for my next command. This computer had been the key to my plan from the start. Prior to Marco’s arrival, I would connect with Vespucci on Skype to ensure that he could hear and see what Marco said and did. Then all I had to do was get Marco to admit to everything. Simple as that. But a plan was only as effective as its execution. And the best-laid plans could unravel in the blink of an eye.
I felt my palms sweating. I was scared. I didn’t like admitting that to myself, but it was true. If I was successful, it would bring Marco’s world crashing down around him. The marriage would be called off. His current business relationships, legal and illicit, would be severed. The FBI would no longer have any use for him. The Italian government would probably file formal charges. Considering what Marco had to lose, I started to question my sanity. Marco was cornered, no question, but did I really believe he was going to fall for this? There was no way he was going to let me walk out of this meeting alive. If I couldn’t get him to admit his guilt, I would not get another chance. Then it would be my world that came crashing down.
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