Maria struggled to bring her breathing under control. Her hands were gripping the lip of the desktop for support.
I kept the momentum going. ‘The first scam was engineered by your boss Paul Castellano just before he was whacked by Gotti’s crew. And Johnny Vittorio’s prints were all over the cashed documents. The mob was ripped off for two million bucks. Their bounty’s still there, handed down to the next generation to collect, two fifty grand, for information leading to recovery. Of the person, not the loot. Not even a conviction asked for. I might even apply for it myself.’
‘Who else knows about this?’
A buzzer rang. I could see Ernie on the video screen as he buzzed again from somewhere downstairs.
I said, ‘Let him come up. I’m sure he’d love to hear this.’
She pressed a button and spoke into an intercom. ‘Go read a fucking comic. I’ll get you when I need you.’
‘Tell him to keep away from Jay,’ I said. ‘Tell him. Now.’
Moresco stood motionless and looked at the camera.
I said, ‘Now.’
She pressed the intercom button.
‘Keep away from the broad. Got it. Don’t go nowhere near her.’
He stared at the camera lens shaking his head before he slowly walked away. ‘Now answer my question,’ she said.
‘Let’s talk about Jay. I want her out of this.’
‘Fuck Jay. Who else knows?’
‘I’m sure you’ll soon find out if anything happens to me or her. I’ve got this far because I’m smart. Too smart not to cover my ass.’
Maria absorbed what I’d said. Unlike Ernie she got a quick grasp of matters at hand and their consequences. She looked at me and then at Jay on the screen. I looked at another screen and could see Ernie who was now in a receiving room absorbed in something.
‘That fuckwit really reading a comic?’
She wasn’t listening. She walked to the other side of her desk and picked up the handset of her phone. She stared at it before she dialled a number.
‘Pauli. You there? You there? Answer me if you’re there. Fuck it. I gotta talk. Call me as soon as you get this message. On my new cell number. You –’
Someone had apparently answered at last. She sat and listened. Her shoulders slumped as she walked around her desk with the receiver.
‘For you,’ she said, handing me the handset.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Yo, bro. What’s up?’
27
We were in Maria’s office.
Paul Quaranto with Jonah’s 9mm pressed into his neck. Ernie, his elephant gun pointed at my head. Maria holding her revolver pointed at no one in particular. Me sitting handcuffed in the chair. My ribs aching.
I said, ‘What a cosy group. Now someone get Jay off that table.’
Ernie said, ‘Not so fast.’
Events had moved too quickly for him in the last hour. First he’d been told to expect a visit from his boss Paul Quaranto and to let him and Jonah in as soon as they arrived. He’d also been told not to touch me or Jay. He was disorientated by this breakneck pace of events leading him to uncharted territory.
‘What the fuck you doing here,’ he said to Jonah.
‘I got a message from my friend here there’s some shit going on. Shit that Paul the Man mightn’t be capice about. So I went calling at Key Biscayne. And here I am. And here he is,’ he said, pressing his gun into Quaranto’s neck for emphasis. ‘Guess we all here. Just like one big happy fam-i-ly.’
‘Where’s Ricky?’ Ernie said, looking at Paul and Jonah and then fixedly in my direction, his piece held firmly in his outstretched right hand and pointed at me. His legs were wide apart, his left arm and his head jigging to some non-rhythmical music.
Jonah said, ‘Don’t yo bother ‘bout yo Ricky no mo,’ doing that Al Jolson thing he does with his eyes and his vowels.
‘What you fuckin’ mean, jig? Don’t bother ‘bout Ricky.’
Ernie was trying hard not to divert his attention from me, his Ruger pointed at my head, his eyes and head going everywhere else in the room. His gun hand was starting to shake.
‘Put down the gun,’ said Jonah, slowly and deliberately, emphasising each syllable.
‘I said, where’s Ricky?’ said Ernie. Inflamed eyes darted between Jonah and me. ‘Where’s Ricky?’ He was screaming.
‘Full fathom five thy Anvil lies,’ said Jonah without once referring to his pocket compendium of quotations from Shakespeare.
‘What you talkin’ about, eight ball. Can’t you speak fuckin’ English?’ was Ernie’s response. I’m going to start writing these down.
Jonah said, ‘He sleeps with the fishes as I think you Eye-tal-ians like to say. Eyeballing the stone crabs who’re getting their own back. Wasn’t very welcoming to me when I bang that motherfucker Chinese knocker on Pauli here’s door.’
This wasn’t registering with Ernie. ‘Tell me Q. Tell me Rick –’ he said to Quaranto, who nodded slowly in his measured reply.
‘What’s that fuckin’ supposed to mean?’
Quaranto said, ‘Listen to me. We had a little incident out there. Ricky’s been clipped. Now calm down before you do some damage here.’
Ernie tried to steady himself, taking deep breaths. His eyes bored into mine. He’d totally lost comprehension of recent events. He was in freefall.
He turned to me. ‘I’ll give you fuckin’ damage. You clipped the Anvil. Now you get hit by the Hammer, cockface.’
I was staring straight down the shiny silver barrel of his Ruger which looked as round as Concorde’s afterburner. It seemed pointless mentioning the not irrelevant matter that I hadn’t whacked Ricky Bezzant, but that Jonah obviously had. Moresco just wanted me dead. His finger tightened on the trigger as Jonah pushed Paul Quaranto firmly forward with the barrel of his gun then held it at the side of Quaranto’s head.
‘Put your gun down. Your boss is in terminal trouble otherwise,’ Jonah said with monastic calm. His threat was real, even to Ernie. Ernie looked at Jonah, then Quaranto, then around to Maria while keeping the gun on me. He received no support from anyone. His eyes were flamed with hatred and fear. His legs were dancing to some discordant beat. He started to stagger the short distance toward me as he pointed the gun closer to my head. It was now gripped by both hands, its hammer cocked, his finger clamped to the trigger.
An explosive sound reverberated around the room, followed by another. Two shots in quick succession.
I could taste blood and warm wet skin. Ernie was slumped over me. Gloating, I thought. I wondered where I’d been hit and why I seemed alive and was wondering at all. Then he was there no more, his crumpling bloodied body hitting the ground.
Maria’s revolver was still raised from where she’d shot Ernie from behind, gripped by both gloved hands. Her face was expressionless.
‘Now, let’s all be calm and steady here for a moment,’ said Jonah. ‘You. Put your gun on the desk.’
He nodded to Maria who did what she was told before he pushed Paul Quaranto toward a chair.
‘Undo these cuffs, amigo. The keys are probably in his pocket,’ I said, nodding at the lifeless Ernie.
Jonah kept the gun trained toward Paul as he found the key and released me. My arms were stiff and my chest ached and my nose throbbed and my mouth hurt and I needed a drink.
‘Get rid of his body before I get Jay,’ I said.
Quaranto and Maria wrapped Ernie’s body in a Persian silk rug and dragged him behind Maria’s desk. There was no sentiment involved.
I went down to the morgue. Jay’s wide eyes caught mine with surprise as I entered the room. I cut the tapes with a surgical scalpel lying near her.
She hugged me tightly. ‘Careful,’ I said. ‘I’m very tender at the moment. And please don’t ask me anything just now. I’m sorry about this. Very sorry. But everything will be worked out.’
She stood back and looked at me, bloodied and in my Jockeys. ‘I heard shots. What happened?’
<
br /> I held up my hand. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s all over now. You OK?’
She nodded and opened her mouth to say something but I put my index finger to mine, signifying silence was in order. I wouldn’t know where to start the explanation. She nodded again in agreement.
She picked up her clothes from the floor and started to dress. I went outside and retrieved mine, plus my pistol and magazine. I dressed quickly. She followed me up the stairs to Maria’s office and sat silently with a mix of shock, amazement and disbelief as she saw the assembled throng.
I called Rafe and told him to come and pick her up. Maria and Paul sat in silence while Jonah sat with his pistol pointed in their general direction. Rafe arrived in ninety seconds. He’d been told by Jonah to keep watch near the funeral home. Maria let him in.
I said, ‘Jay. You’re going back to Dooley’s with Rafe. We’ve got a few things to talk about here. We’re OK. Believe me.’
Jay didn’t need a second offer. She looked around the scene once more, then at Jonah and me. She left, with Rafe firmly holding her arm. She hadn’t said a word since she’d entered the room.
Quaranto said, ‘What does he know?’ looking at me and addressing his question to Maria.
‘Everything,’ she said. ‘Every fuckin’ thing.’
He turned to me. ‘Whadda you want? Let’s talk.’
I wanted a lot. There was no time like the present to ask.
‘How about a large scotch?’ I said.
28
Instead Maria produced a bottle of bourbon, but I wasn’t about to argue the toss. It was aged Kentucky premium, fraudulent shipping’s finest label. Plus ice, a soda siphon and four Baccarat crystal tumblers. I poured a neat shot and downed it. My tension knots were untangling. I poured another, with ice and a splash and stirred it with my index finger. The others helped themselves. I sat back and clinked the ice cubes around the glass while I defrosted.
We were sitting in spirituous silence, us facing them. I had a large pull on my whisky. ‘Now here’s the deal,’ I said. ‘First. We want no comeback on your goons Moresco and Bezzant. Not now. Not ever. That includes me, Jonah, my partner Dooley, Tomas – plus anyone else I’ve forgotten.’
Quaranto looked towards me, his pupils aimed far above my head, almost to the ceiling. It was a quirky habit he had. He fiddled his thumbs together as if he was bored, which he probably was.
‘They had to go anyway. You might have done us a favour here. From what Jonah the eggplant tells me, there was some bad shit happening round here I knew nuttin’ about. Drug fucking mules. Voodoo shit. Maybe advertised their services in The Herald for all I fucking know.’ Quaranto’s eyes locked on Maria, to tell her she had a bit of explaining to do to the boss. ‘Fucking A1 pricks. I won’t be flying no flags at half-mast. The planet’s been done a favour.’
Jonah let the eggplant jibe pass. ‘So?’ I said.
‘You’re off the hook. Tell us about the Feds. Whadda they know?’
I said, ‘Your shipping scam. Forget it. It’s dead. Maria, Johnny – whoever the fuck – will tell you all about it. You screwed up on the documents and the bank smelled a rat. So cut your losses. They’ll never pay you. As far as the Feds and the bank know, it was Ricky who leased the office and did the deal. But they have Johnny Steaknife’s prints on the documents.’
‘And?’ said Quaranto.
‘That’s our insurance. As of now they don’t know about Johnny-slash-Maria. You fuck with us then you get the Feds and your ex-New York mob pals sons and daughters after you. And we get two-fifty grand reward.’ I was starting to think like them. ‘And the Tomas deal. You leave him alone. Write it off.’
Quaranto laughed. ‘The shipping deal’s one thing. It’s what we call an opportunity loss. There’s no big front end cost if we do a cost-benefit analysis.’ He smiled. ‘But I got a big problem as far as Tomas is concerned. Others here in town are in on his loan. Friends of mine. Guys without my sense of humour. Either the new stock business goes through and we renegotiate the loan, or I have to produce one point five mil for them. Plus juice. Plus juice on juice. To the fucking cent. Capice. That’s now out of my hands. The books are open on this. Listen carefully to me. I ain’t got no choice. No phone a friend. Nuttin’.’
He was probably telling it like it is. I sat back, my bourbon washing down a couple of fentanyl tabs Maria had given me for my pain. ‘Let me get this straight. You need one point five mil plus change. You get that then Tomas is off the hook.’
‘You got it. Just show me the fucking money.’
Things were becoming clearer as the opiates kicked in.
I said, ‘Let me tell you about a little fishing trip I’m planning to Lake Okeechobee.’
We all sat forward. It seemed I now had their serious attention.
Quaranto lit a cigar, bored no more.
29
Been alligator wrestling or cut yourself shaving?’ said Cza. ‘Or your English lady too hot to handle?’
We were in an Argentinean cafe on Washington having a Milanesa sandwich. I’d been back to the South Shore Hospital where my cracked ribs had been strapped and the cuts on my face patched up so I didn’t frighten young children and old ladies on the streets. Angel gave me a come up and see me sometime while she cobbled me together, thanking me for the DVD of Mae West’s She Done Him Wrong I’d sent her.
I said, ‘I met a large tattooed lady in a bar. She had a goatee and her name was Harley. She sidelines in sumo.’
‘So you had a little Shinto together?’
‘Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.’
‘Serves you right. Sure it wasn’t Miss England?’
‘Now what do you think?’
‘Nah. She’d want it with Earl Grey tea, and scones and raspberry jam. All very proper like. Bone china. With the blinds down. To the tune of Rule Britannia or God Save The Queen or The Bridge On The River Kwai theme. The whistling version.’
Cza was enjoying this moment, playing it out in the way a woman does. She reluctantly changed tack. ‘So what did happen? Where’d she get to anyway? Not that I care.’
‘It’s a long story. She arrived by a circuitous route.’
‘And your war wounds?’
‘You don’t really want to know everything. Except the good guys seem to be winning at the moment.’
‘This to do with Tomas and Quaranto? The English guys? The arms deal? The bank? For shit’s sake, tell me.’ She was very pissed off.
I held up my hands. ‘Whoa there. First, I think the Tomas and Quaranto business might now be under control. The bank. Well, I’ll think about that. I doubt Bezzant’ll trouble them anymore. The Brits. Well, that’s something else.’
She was preoccupied with the arms deal and I was happy not to talk further about Quaranto. ‘This score still happening? When’s it go down?’
‘Monday some time. I don’t yet know exactly. But they’re picking up three trucks at 8 am, so it’ll be sometime after that. Midday maybe.’
‘Where?’
‘Here. I’ve written it down.’
She took the piece of paper.
‘Where the shit goes to after Hialeah, I’ve no idea. Maybe the docks. Maybe Canada. Maybe to safe storage. That’s up to you guys.’
‘Who’ll be there?’ she said.
‘Some guy called Jesus Da Silva. Here’s a photo. He’ll have friends there. The scumbag Irish – here’s another photo, just so you don’t get it wrong. Plus maybe some Irish republicans. They’ll be easy to spot – the ones whose eyes are smiling.’
Cza looked at the photos, nodding knowingly in that irritating way that Feds have.
‘We know Da Silva. What about the other Englishman?’
‘Charlie Sayers?’
‘That’s the one.’
I said, ‘I don’t know.’ My hands were on the table so I couldn’t cross my fingers.
‘How come?’
I couldn’t tell her the truth without compromising my deal with Quaranto.
And hurting my plans for Sayers.
‘Because he’s your slimy sort of Limey. Won’t get his hands dirty. But I’m sure that you’ll catch up with him somewhere along the way.’
Cza decided not to press the point. ‘How good is this information? You get it from Reuters?’
‘Just off the wire.’
‘I’d have some explaining to do if this shit don’t happen. We’d call in the cavalry here.’
‘Give Dooley a call, if it makes you feel better,’ I said. ‘He knows as much as I do.’
‘I will. And where will you be during all of this?’
‘Goin’ fishin’.’
30
It was Sunday morning and I was listening on my short-wave radio to Liverpool playing Man U at home. I’ve supported Liverpool since the seventies, not through any association with Merseyside but in deference to the city that gave the world the Beatles. I must get around to getting up to Anfield to see them play there one day. Jonah had bet me ten bucks on a United win and had thrown in the draw. We were losing one-zip to a free kick and I was waiting for the equaliser.
Jay’s sister Liz had arrived and they’d gone off to the cool of a restaurant. I’d told Jay that things were in hand but not to ask questions. She couldn’t be prosecuted and convicted for what she didn’t know. Well, that was the theory. She’d handled things well after a few large brandies and roll-ups.
Sal the Kelvinator arrived at the hotel at midday but I asked him to wait in the lobby. There were two minutes of extra time remaining. I shouldn’t have bothered. Man U scored in the dying seconds to make it two-zip and make me ten bucks poorer. And Jonah didn’t even support Man U. Or any team for that matter.
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