by K. W. Jeter
“How would I know?”
“Well . . . I figured with you being Hawaiian and all . . .”
I sighed. This was something that he and I had gone over a million times, back when I’d been working for him. It wasn’t worth going over it again.
“So if you don’t think you’d like it,” said Curt, “then don’t go.”
“I wasn’t planning to. But it’s just the idea that Karsh would want me to drop in at all. I mean – that guy tried to kill me! Course, my guys were trying to nail him at the same time. Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t get him, huh, Earl? ’Cause now we’re all supposed to be friends. Leastways, that’s what your boss tells me.”
Moretti was slowing down, getting to the bottom of the plate. He gestured around the place with his fork.
“Whaddaya think? Think I should go for that tropical-type crap here? Maybe put up some old cargo nets, some of those little glass ball thingamajigs. Maybe get a palm tree in a big ol’ pot, shove it in here. Hey, I know. I could take the candles outta the wine bottles, stick ’em in coconuts instead. How would that look?”
His loose-lipped smile broadened as he spread his hands apart.
“I know what,” he said. “I could get one of those hats, you know, with the little anchor on the front. That those guys wear when they’re down in the harbor, horsing around on their yachts. And some Hawaiian shirts. You know, with parrots and shit on ’em. And I could call myself Trader Vito. Think that would go over with the customers?”
We all gazed back at him without speaking.
“Well, you’re a fun bunch, all right.” Moretti went back to eating. “Let me know when you lively up a bit.”
Someone – a customer – came in the front door. Foley slid out of the booth, went over to the guy, and steered him back out. “Place is closed,” he said.
That got a protest. “But the sign says Open 24 Hours –”
“Sign’s wrong.”
“But –”
Foley pushed him out to the sidewalk, then closed the door, pulled the OPEN sign out of the window, and threw it on the floor.
Turned around in his chair, Moretti had watched all this.
“You guys don’t just want to talk.” He nodded as though impressed. “You want to talk.”
He turned back around to us.
“So all right,” he said. “Whaddaya want to talk about? What’s the big deal?”
Curt leaned across the table toward him. “Johnny Dodd working for you?”
“Johnny Dodd ain’t working for nobody. Johnny Dodd’s dead.”
“You heard about that?”
“What, that you guys nailed him?” Moretti shrugged. “Word gets around. Though what I also heard was that it wasn’t any of you exactly, but the new kid on the crew. My little gal Kim.” He winked at me. “Good work, sweetie. You’re making an old man proud.”
He looked back down at his plate, twirling the last few strands of spaghetti as he shook his head.
“I don’t wanna tell you your own business, Curt, but you gotta admit that doesn’t look good. For you, I mean. A big gold star for Kim here – but a woman showing you guys up? Come on.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I spoke up. “Except that we’re already into the twenty-first century.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. More’s the pity. Woulda been a time when a nice-looking girl like you – I mean, nice enough, right? – she woulda stayed home, having babies, while her old man went out and killed people. You know, and brought home the bacon. I’m not sure it’s exactly a sign of progress that a kid like you has to go out and blow folks away.”
“Yeah, well . . .” I didn’t know if I could argue with him. “This was the only offer on the table.”
“Like I said.” Moretti turned his yellowy basset eyes toward me. “Or like the president said the other day. Did you hear him? Everything’s changing. It’s gonna be a new world.”
“Like the New Frontier,” mused Foley.
“Whoa. Haven’t heard that one in a while. That takes me back.” Moretti slowly nodded. “Yeah, like that. And look how well that turned out. Other than Kennedy nailing that Marilyn Monroe broad.”
“Screw the New Frontier.” Impatience sounded in Curt’s voice. “We were talking about Johnny Dodd.”
“So what about him?”
“He was working for you?”
“I might’ve had him do a coupla things for me.” Moretti shrugged. “Whaddaya gonna do? Your boss Falcone – him and Karsh, they’ve hired away all the best people. I mean, besides you guys. I gotta get who I can to do the work.”
“And you were taking messages for Dodd here.”
“Doin’ the guy a favor. ’Cause as a matter of fact, he wasn’t working for me no more.” Moretti smiled. “Your boss hired him, too. But you know that already, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” said Curt. “I thought he might have.”
“Come on, pal. You wouldn’t be here talking to me if you hadn’t figured it out. Or at least part of it.”
“Falcon was here?” Elton leaned across the table toward Moretti. “Talking to this guy?”
“Are you kidding?” Moretti set his fork down on the empty plate. “I watched your boss draw Johnny Dodd a frickin’ map. Of that restaurant you guys were going to be at. And I didn’t think it was because Falcon wanted to throw you a surprise birthday party.”
“You should’ve come and told us.” Earl shook his head. “You should’ve told me. I worked for you. We were friends. At least, that’s what I thought.”
“Yeah, yeah – you’re right. I should’ve. But whaddaya gonna do? Business is business. Somebody like your boss, that’s somebody I gotta stay friends with. Know what I mean?”
“Why’d he do it?” Curt’s voice was still low and unemotional.
“Why’d your boss set you up? You kidding?” Moretti gestured around the table. “Look at you guys! You’re dinosaurs! Falcone’s gotta get rid of you. Don’t you ever listen to him talking?” Moretti shook his head in disbelief. “Must be deaf or something. Christ almighty, I’ve heard him goin’ on about this stuff. You know, about the way everything’s changing, it’s gonna be a new world, and all the rest of that crapola – only it’s not crapola with him. Falcone believes it – and you know what? He’s right!”
The expression on Moretti’s face was a sneer now. He was enjoying telling us all this.
“I mean, look at you guys. Except for my gal Kim here, you’re all like something out of an old movie. Some old gangster flick. What are you? A buncha torpedoes. Thugs!”
“Hey –” Foley bristled. “Screw you!”
“Simmer down,” Earl told him.
“You think Falcone needs clowns like you around him now?” Moretti set his pudgy, short-fingered hands down flat on the table. “He’s going legit! Him and Karsh gonna be successful modern executives. People like that actually do get invited to the White House. They write some big-ass checks, then they get to shake hands with the president, get their pictures taken with him and shit. Whaddaya think Falcone – sorry; Mister Fal-kun – whaddaya think he’s gonna say then? Pleased to meet you, Mr. President; hope you don’t mind I brought my goon squad along. Yeah, right. That’ll fly.”
Elton nodded thoughtfully. “Executives gotta have protection, too.”
“Not from a bunch a wise guys who reach in their jackets and pull out guns any time somebody drops a pencil around ’em. Execs the way Falcone and Karsh are gonna be, they don’t got protection, they got security. Whole different thing. Something you don’t even see, but it’s always there. You – people notice. That’s why he’s gotta get rid of you.”
I wasn’t hearing anything new from this old man. I’d heard it before. It was the same reason that my old boss McIntyre had set up Cole to be eliminated. Times change. Everything changes. And if you’re on the other side of the calendar, then you’re disposable.
“Like I said –” Moretti ran a broad thumb around his plate, then licked the s
paghetti sauce from it. “You’re frickin’ dinosaurs. Time for you to die off.”
“Yeah?” Foley was even angrier now. “And what about you?”
“I told you.” Moretti gave a shrug. “I’m trying to stay friends with the man. Gotta look out for myself.”
“I don’t get it.” Earl frowned. “If Falcon wants to get rid of us . . . why doesn’t he just fire us? Tell us to take a hike? I’d go.”
“He’s afraid of us,” said Foley. “If we’re not on his payroll, we’re too dangerous to be left hanging around.”
“You wish.” Elton wasn’t buying it. “Don’t you get it? It’s not us. It’s everybody else. This partnership that Falcon’s setting up with Karsh. It’s gonna be a big organization. And what’re they all gonna think?”
“Who cares?”
“Falcon does,” said Elton. “We been tighter with the man than anybody. Even before I came on the crew, you guys must’ve saved his ass a coupla hundred times. He fires us, everybody else who works for him are gonna wonder if they’re next. That makes people antsy. Real bad for morale. Big-time execs can’t afford that.”
“You’re right.” Curt looked over at Foley. “This isn’t the kind of job you get fired from. And you don’t quit, either. You just die.”
“Like Heinz did?”
“Yeah,” said Curt. “Like that.”
“So that’s why Falcon hired that Johnny Dodd fella,” added Elton. “To start taking care of us.”
“Huh.” Earl nodded, as it all sank in. “But he was smart about it. ’Cause he knew Johnny probably wouldn’t be able to get all of us at once. So Falcon had Johnny make like he was going after him instead of us.”
“Nice plan,” sneered Foley. “Except it didn’t work. It was this Johnny guy that got taken care of.”
I could’ve said something at this point. But I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t think it would help matters if I pointed out that if it hadn’t been for me, Johnny Dodd might’ve still been picking off the crew, one by one.
“Okay –” Earl looked around at the others in the booth. “But just because he’s dead, that doesn’t solve our problems.”
“No.” Curt slowly shook his head. “It doesn’t.”
He slid out from the booth and laid a hand a Moretti’s fat-rounded shoulder.
“Sorry,” said Curt. “Like you said – we go back a long ways. But you know how it is.”
“Yeah, right.” Moretti shrugged. “Whaddaya gonna do? I didn’t think I was ever gonna have to have this conversation with you. Thought you guys would all be dead by now.”
Curt looked over at Earl, still sitting in the booth. “You gonna take care of it?”
Earl nodded. He pulled a gun out of his jacket and laid it on the table in front of himself.
“Come on.” Curt gestured to the rest of us. “Let’s go.”
We slid out of the booth and followed him toward the door. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Earl gazing sadly at Moretti.
“You should’ve come and told me,” said Earl. “You should’ve.”
“Yeah . . .” Moretti looked down at his plate. “Guess so.”
I pulled the door shut behind me.
We stood waiting outside in the bright winter cold, a couple of the guys lighting up cigarettes. I went over to my motorcycle and fiddled with one of the brake cables running from the handlebars.
When the sound of a gunshot came from inside the restaurant, I glanced over my shoulder. The other crew members lowered the smokes in their hands and looked at the door. A second later, there were a couple more shots. Then Earl came out, buttoning up his overcoat.
Curt turned toward me, as the others were getting into the car. “See you back in town.”
“Yeah –” I unstrapped my helmet from the Ninja’s seat. “See you there.”
Earl didn’t get into the car. He stayed out on the sidewalk, gazing off into the distance, at the snow on top of the hills.
“Come on.” Foley leaned out from the passenger side window. “What’re you waiting for? Get in.”
“You guys go on. Without me.”
Curt leaned over from behind the steering wheel and looked at him. “What are you talking about? Get in the car. We’ve got stuff to take care of.”
“Not me.” Earl shook his head. “I’m done.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Curt got out of the car and walked over to him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I didn’t think it’d wind up like this.”
Over by the motorcycle, I watched the two men facing each other.
“What’d you think was going to happen?” Curt stared into Earl’s face. “Why’d you think we came out here?”
“Don’t know,” said Earl. “I don’t know anything. How things ever got like this. You know.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Maybe I thought I’d have some money in the bank by now, or maybe Mr. Falcon would let me have a little place like this.” He nodded toward the restaurant. “Like Moretti had. When I worked for him, I always thought that was a pretty nice setup. You know? Someplace nice, where I could take care of some business for Mr. Falcon – but mainly just relax. And not have to worry about crap this.”
“Yeah, fine.” Foley leaned an arm across the car’s window sill. “Didn’t exactly happen that way, did it?”
“No.” Earl slowly shook his head. “It didn’t.”
“So . . .” Curt looked into the other man’s eyes. “What’re you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” said Earl. “You guys take care of yourselves. And . . . you know . . . I enjoyed working with you. I always did.”
“Gimme a break.” Foley shook his head in disgust.
Curt turned and walked over to the car. He leaned down close to Foley.
“You’ll have to take care of it,” he said. “I can’t.”
“Fine –”
Foley got out of the car. Pulling the gun out of his jacket, he walked toward Earl. Who didn’t move as the other man came up to him.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Foley put the muzzle of the gun up against Earl’s head.
“What are you doing?” Elton looked out from the car’s open door. “Are you crazy?”
“No –” Foley looked over his shoulder at him. “It’s business.”
“You don’t have to do that –” Elton climbed out of the car. “Just let him go! He’s not gonna do anything –”
“You buy that shit? You’re the one who’s crazy, then. This guy’s not gonna just walk away. He’s gonna look out for himself. He’s gonna rat us out to Falcon.”
“Stay out of it.” Curt laid a hand against the front of Elton’s shoulder, to keep him from going any closer to the other men. “Just stay out of it.”
“This is bullshit, man –” Elton knocked Curt’s hand away. “He’s on the crew! You can’t just –”
“Figure it out, man!” Foley kept the gun to Earl’s head. “You want to wind up like Heinz? Not me. Think about it – your buddy Earl here is old, he’s tired, he’s scared. And he knows we’re all in trouble now. We’re not going to make it.”
“What’re you talking about –”
“I’m talking,” said Foley, “about what Earl’s figured out. He knows we’re screwed. Because our crew leader here can’t handle it anymore.”
Curt looked over his shoulder at Foley, but didn’t say anything.
“You can’t get us out of this one.” Foley met Curt’s narrowed gaze. “You can’t get us out of anything. Not now. You’ve lost it, man.” He looked around at the others. “Right? We’ve all seen it.”
Part of me – a big part – just wanted to climb onto the motorcycle, kick it into gear and twist the throttle. Just to get as far away from here as possible, before things fell even farther apart.
Curt looked Foley straight in the eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Face it, man. You’ve over the hill.”
“Wait a minute,” said Elton. “Just hold on –”
Foley turned on him. “Just shut up!” He looked again at Curt. “We’ve all seen the way your hands have started to shake. You can hardly shoot anymore. And that’s not all –” With his free hand, Foley tapped the side of his own head. “It’s up here, man. That’s where you’ve lost it. You’re not as sharp as you used to be. You don’t see things anymore. That’s why a punk like Johnny Dodd was almost able to nail us all. And that’s why Falcon wants to get rid of us. Because you can’t handle the job anymore.”
Curt looked over Elton. “Is that what you think?”
“This guy’s got a big mouth,” said Elton. “That’s what I think.”
“What about you?” Curt looked over to me. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” I backed myself up against the side of the motorcycle. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t know you from before.”
“Yeah . . .”
That was Earl speaking up. With the muzzle of Foley’s gun still pressed against his head, he looked over at Curt.
“He’s right,” said Earl. “I’ve seen it, too.”
“Like I told you –” Foley turned his gaze toward Elton. “You need to figure it out. Earl here’s got no other options. Either he sticks with us and waits around for Falcon to come up with some other plan for getting rid of us all, or he goes to Falcon and spills his guts. And then maybe Mr. Falcon gives him that little place he always wanted. Like Moretti had.”
“Is that true, Earl?” Curt looked at him. “Is that what you were going to do?”
Earl gazed straight ahead of himself, not saying anything.
“Don’t lie to me, Earl. Not now.”
“Yeah.” Earl nodded. “It’s true. Or . . . if it’s not, it might as well be.”
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, man.” Foley eased up on Curt. “I’ll take care of it.”
“No –” Curt shook his head. “I’ll do it.”
I knew what was going to happen next. And it did.
Curt reached up and took the gun from Foley’s hand. His own hand was shaking as he kept the gun against Earl’s head.
“We go back a long ways.” Curt’s voice was low and soft. “A long ways.”
“Yeah,” said Earl. “I know.”
Curt squeezed the trigger of his gun. Earl crumpled to the sidewalk, one side of his head a red mess.