She woke all at once, with a moment of panic, not knowing where she was. The Glock was in her hand. She looked down at the duffel bag, and it all came back to her.
Benny was standing in the bedroom doorway. He had his coat on. Marta was behind him.
“We were thinking we’d get going,” he said.
She set the Glock back on the duffel, sat up. “What time is it?”
“Three o’clock.”
More than twelve hours since she’d gone up that hill. Only four hours’ sleep. Her hips ached, and her neck was sore. The bottle on the table was half empty.
“Stay right there,” she said. She went into the bathroom, ran the faucet, palmed water in her face, drank some and spit it out. Her mouth was dry, her lips chapped.
“Marta and I decided the best thing to do would be to get on the move,” he said. “Put in as many miles as we can today.”
She wiped her face with a towel, looked at him. They’d brought their suitcases into the living room. “What’s your plan?”
“We’ll take the Honda, if that’s okay with you. We’ll leave it at a train station, airport maybe, call you and tell you where it is.”
She nodded at the duffel. “You think you’re going to get that on a plane?”
“No. Safer on a train. Not sure where we’re headed yet. We’ll figure that out on the way. I want to get clear of here, though.”
“Good idea.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got some things to do first.”
“I’m worried about all this coming back on you.”
“Don’t. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen.”
He looked around the living room, then back at her. “Then I guess this is it.”
“It is.”
“Thanks for looking out for us. Thanks for everything.”
Marta said, “Benny, we should go.”
He lifted the duffel. “Heavier than I thought it’d be.”
“Way it is sometimes,” Crissa said.
“I don’t imagine we’ll be coming back this way, for any reason,” Benny said. “Maybe ever.”
“Don’t.”
“Give my regards to Jimmy. Thank him for me.”
“I will.”
Marta said, “Benny.” She had the suitcases.
He hefted the duffel, the carry strap over his shoulder. Crissa went past them to the door, unlocked and opened it. The Honda and the Taurus were parked on the concrete apron outside.
“Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks.” He stopped at the door, put out his hand. She took it.
“I wish I’d known you thirty years ago,” he said. “We could have run our own crew. No one could have touched us.”
“I don’t want to run anything,” she said. “Never did.”
“Benny, we need to go,” Marta said.
“Be safe,” Crissa said. “And be careful with that money.”
“I will,” he said.
She watched them load the car, back out. As they pulled away, Benny powered down his window, put out a hand, raised it high.
Back inside, she made coffee, took the cup out on the deck. The sky was clear, no clouds in sight. A charter fishing boat chugged up the inlet, headed for open water. Water slapped against the bulkhead as it went past.
She’d sit out here for a while, finish her coffee, then do what had to be done. First she’d call Anthony Falcone, tell him what she had for his grandfather. Then Rathka, to ask him what he thought she should do with a million dollars in cash.
* * *
They got on the Garden State Parkway, headed north. He was exhausted from the night before, but wanted to keep moving. They’d decided to drive to New Haven tonight, leave the car at the Amtrak station, pick a train. Head south maybe, live in a hotel for a while, figure out what to do next.
Crossing the Driscoll Bridge, he saw the first signs for Staten Island. He chewed a lip.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
He shook his head. Keep going, he thought. Get clear of here. Run. It’s what you do best.
“There’s a service area coming up,” he said. “I’m going to stop.”
“Why?”
“There’s something I need to do.”
“What?”
“Something important.”
He signaled, guided the Honda into the lot.
“We shouldn’t be doing this, Benny. We should be getting away from here.”
“We will,” he said.
He backed into a spot on the far side of the parking area, near a grove of trees.
“What’s this about?”
“It won’t take long, I promise.”
There was a gift shop in the plaza, and he found what he wanted—a cheap, green zippered tote bag that read NEW JERSEY AND YOU: PERFECT TOGETHER in yellow type against a silhouette of the state.
He carried it back to the Honda, opened the trunk. With the woods at his back, he unzipped the duffel, counted out $75,000 in packs of hundreds. She got out of the car, watched him.
The money filled the overnight bag. He zipped it shut, slung it over his shoulder, closed the trunk lid.
“What’s that for?” she said.
“A debt,” he said. “One I’ve owed for a long time.”
* * *
He called Hersh twice from the car, but there was no answer at the house or the shop. He realized he hadn’t spoken to him since that first day back in Brooklyn. It felt like a lifetime ago.
He tried the house again, let it ring seven times. No machine. He hung up.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I’m trying to reach Hersh, but the shop’s closed and no one’s home.”
“Call his cell.”
“I don’t have the number. I doubt he even has one. We’ll have to drive out there anyway. My bet is he’s holed up in the shop, doing his books, not answering the phone. He’s like that.”
“Is that who the money’s for?”
“Some of it. Mostly it’s for Ethan and Lena, when he sees them.”
“How do you know he won’t just keep it?”
“He won’t. Hersh and I never agreed on much, but he was always stand-up. Too honest for his own good.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Sometimes you have to go along to get along,” he said. “You can swim against the tide, but sooner or later it pulls you under.”
“That what you did, ‘Go along to get along’?”
“All my life,” he said.
* * *
The shop was dark, the CLOSED sign in the window. He tried the door, then leaned on the service bell, heard it ring deep inside. Marta watched from the car. He’d double-parked, left the hazards on.
He rang the bell again, used a hand to block the glare, peered through the glass. No movement inside.
He went back to the car, shook his head. When he got in, she said, “What do we do?”
“His place is only a few blocks away. We’ll try there, and I’ll give him another call. If he’s not home, I’ll have to figure out something else.”
“We can’t come back here after this. Even to give someone money, family or not.”
“I know,” he said. “Why I want to do it now, get it over with.”
Hersh’s street was tree-lined, old brownstones and redbrick town houses. They had to circle the block twice before they found a parking spot on the cross street, next to an ivy-covered church wall.
“Wait here,” he said. He reached into the backseat, got the tote bag.
“I should come with you.”
“Better to wait. If he’s not there, I’ll be back in a couple minutes. If he is, we’ll want to talk a little.”
“And that’s none of my business?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Go on,” she said. “I’ll wait here. So nobody steals the car.”
“Baby, compared to some parts of Brooklyn, this is Beverly Hills
.”
“I’ve never been there, either.”
“Someday I’ll take you,” he said. He leaned over, kissed her cheek. “That’s a promise.”
He got out, walked down the tree-shaded street, the sun sinking behind the long row of houses.
Hersh’s was midblock, a two-level redbrick with a small front yard. Benny went up the steps, rang the bell, waited, then knocked hard. No response. He got out his cell, called the house number again. He could hear the ringing inside.
A bus nosed to the curb. Benny turned. The door hissed open, and an old woman with a walker got off, crossed the street, didn’t look at him. The bus pulled away.
He rang the bell again, thought he heard movement inside. Then silence once more.
Turn around, he thought. Go back to the car, to Marta. Call Hersh from wherever you end up, figure out a way to get the money to him then. Worry about it later. Walk away now.
He leaned off the steps to look through the gap in the front curtains. The living room was empty. He heard the sound again then, something like a groan.
Maybe he’s hurt in there, Benny thought. Diabetic shock. A stroke. His heart. You can’t just leave. If you owe him anything, you owe him that much.
He went back down the steps, and into the narrow alley that ran alongside the house. The backyard had a chain-link fence, almost solid with ivy, the gate open. Nearly dark now, the yard was black with shadow. He went in, saw the back door ajar, darkness inside.
“Hersh?” he called out. “Hersh, you in there?”
When there was no answer, he went up the two steps, nudged the door wider with the tote bag. “Hersh?”
The muffled groan came again, from somewhere deep in the house. It was then he saw the splintered wood in the door frame.
He backed down the steps, heard movement behind him, started to turn. Cold metal touched the back of his neck.
“Give me an excuse,” Perry said.
When Benny didn’t move, Perry pushed him toward the door. “Inside, rat.”
Benny went up and into the kitchen. Perry shoved him again, and Hersh was there in the living room, in a straight-back chair, gagged, hands bound behind him. He looked more angry than scared.
Across from him, Sal Bruno sat on the couch. He looked at Benny without speaking. On the coffee table in front of him were a leather slapjack and a straight razor. A single lamp lit the room.
“Man,” Perry said. “Did you fuck up big this time.”
TWENTY
When Rathka came on the line, Crissa said, “Good news, bad news.” She was in the living room, the money lined up in stacks on the coffee table. Jimmy’s fifty grand was in a brown Whole Foods bag at her feet.
“Bad news first,” he said. “Always.”
“I need to get away from here for a while. Head south maybe.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, if I can swing it. If not, the next day. I have a couple things to do first, then I’ll catch a train.”
“Heat?”
“Not that kind. Just being careful.”
“As always.”
“I want to hold on to this place, though. I’ll be back at some point, before long. I’ll pay another three months up front to keep it off the market.”
“I’m sure we can make that work.”
“I was thinking I might go down to Kenedy, stay nearby. I’d like to be there when our friend walks out the gate.”
“Okay. What’s the good news?”
“I have a significant amount of capital to invest.”
“How significant?”
“Seven figures.”
“Raw?”
“Raw, but cold. It’s been out of circulation for a while. I have to take some off the top, then I need a strategy for the rest. I’ll need regular access to part of it, the rest I want to put away.”
“Any ideas?”
“I want to set up another account for Maddie, in the islands maybe. Something that’s not so closely monitored, where I can make deposits without anyone wondering where they came from.”
“I’ll get on it. You must trust your cousin.”
“I do. Later, when we’re settled, I’ll want to take another look at that arrangement. I’ll pay Leah a visit when I’m down there.”
“I put in the request for a call, but scheduling’s been an issue.”
“How’s that?”
“I thought they were just dragging their feet at first, institutional red tape. But apparently our friend’s the holdup. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Our guard down there doesn’t know, either, but he confirms the reason. Hearing’s set for noon next Wednesday, but it could be delayed. God knows it’s been before. But there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“I’ll be down there, just in case.”
“You sound different. Something in your voice. Things are going better, I guess.”
“My luck changed,” she said. “Not sure how long it will last, so I want to run with it while it’s good.”
“Glad to hear. But if you want to make a deposit, especially one of that size, we should find some neutral ground. Here isn’t so good right now.”
“I’ll work it out and let you know,” she said. “I’m ditching this cell soon. I’ll call you when I have a new one. We’ll find some place to meet.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said. She ended the call.
* * *
Perry took the tote bag from Benny’s hand. He had a bruise on his forehead, his eyes dark with fatigue. “This what I hope it is?”
“Give that here,” Sal said. Perry tossed the bag to him. Sal unzipped it, looked inside. Hersh was watching all of them. He’d been gagged with a dish towel that was wound tight, tied behind his head. His lip was split, and there were spots of blood on his white shirt.
“On your knees, slick,” Perry said. When Benny didn’t move, Perry kicked him in the back of the knee. Benny’s leg went out from under him. He landed on his side.
Sal looked through the money. “How much is this?”
Benny rose to his knees, looked at Hersh, said, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Perry said. “Worry about me.” He had a blue-steel automatic in his hand. “Answer the man.”
Benny looked at Sal. “Seventy-five grand.”
Sal, expressionless, said, “Where’s the rest?”
“I don’t have it.”
Sal zipped the bag back up, set it on the floor. He took a cell from his jacket pocket, opened it, dialed a number.
“Yeah, Danny,” he said. “You were right. He showed up.” He listened, said, “No, just him.” Another pause. “Okay. Let me call you back.” He closed the phone, put it away.
To Perry, he said, “Danny says go look for the car, it’s got to be nearby. Maybe the others are there, too. Be careful.”
Perry nodded at Benny. “What about this one?”
“I’ll watch him. He’s not going anywhere.”
Perry stuck the gun in his belt, zipped his jacket up to cover it, went into the kitchen, and out the back door. Benny hoped Marta would see him coming, drive away, not come back. But it wouldn’t work like that, he knew. She wouldn’t leave him.
Sal got up with a sigh, stepped behind Hersh and untied the towel. He tossed it aside. Hersh coughed, spit.
“He had nothing to do with any of this,” Benny said. “He didn’t even know where I was.”
“That’s what he was saying,” Sal said. “I was just going to get started on him when you came along. Saved us the trouble.”
Hersh craned his neck, trying to see Sal behind him.
“Way it looks, though,” Sal said, “is that you’re dropping off his cut.”
“I wouldn’t take a dime from him, for anything,” Hersh said. He coughed again. “I don’t know anything about that money. Ask him where it came from.”
“I know where it came from,” Sal said. He took a snub-
nosed revolver from his belt, broke open the cylinder, looked at the shells, then clicked it shut, put the gun back in his belt.
Hersh looked at Benny. “I always knew it would come to this. You destroy everything around you, don’t you? Like a disease. You don’t care who pays the price, as long as you get what you want.”
“I’m sorry, Hersh.” He looked at Sal. “All this is my fault. It has nothing to do with anyone else.”
“Listen to the man,” Hersh said. “He’s telling the truth.”
Noises in the kitchen, then Perry came through, pushing Marta ahead of him, her arm twisted behind her. He had the duffel slung over his left shoulder.
Benny closed his eyes, opened them again. What have I done? he thought. We were almost out of here, clear. How did I screw this up so bad again?
“Benny.” She tried to go to him, and Perry dragged her back, propelled her toward the couch. “Sit your sweet ass down.”
He dropped the duffel on the floor, said, “Check that shit out.”
Sal said, “You look inside?”
“Yeah, not the whole nut, but a lot of it. Maybe half. What are we gonna do?”
“Half’s not good enough. Danny says we should take them up to the Victory. You still got those plastic things?”
“Yeah,” Perry said.
Marta was sitting up now, her eyes moving from Benny to Hersh to the others, her face pale.
Benny could feel his heart beating in his chest, the pulse of blood in his neck. Perry stepped behind him, said, “Hands.”
Benny didn’t move. Perry put the gun to the back of his head. “Hands, slick. Or your brains are all over this nice carpet.”
Benny crossed his arms behind him. Perry put away the gun, grabbed his wrists, wrapped a flex-cuff around them, cinched it tight. Benny winced at the pain.
“I’ve got nothing to do with any of that money,” Hersh said. “I swear. Tell them, Benny.”
“Do I look like I give a shit?” Sal said.
Benny saw Marta looking at the front door. If she ran, kept going, she might make it. He could throw himself at Sal, tangle them up long enough that she could be clear and away. As long as she didn’t look back.
To Sal, he said, “Take the money. Take it all. Keep it, the two of you. Tell Danny we got away. He’ll never know the truth. There’s a million dollars in there. You two can split it. How much will you get bringing it back to Danny?”
Kings of Midnight Page 17