by Tim Green
Henry looked down at the floor, rubbed his shoulder, and mumbled, "Yeah, I just got that flu. I'm not myself."
Dozer looked at him oddly, shrugged, and walked away.
Henry made his way back to Bert's locker. He got Bert's attention and motioned him out in the hallway. "The equipment guy just said they want me up in the owner's office!" Henry whispered loudly when they were alone.
"Look," Bert said, "it's no big deal. The big guy probably wants to find out how your shoulder's feeling. It's nothing."
"Yeah, but the equipment guy said the owner's not here today."
"Aw, he don't know," Bert said, dismissing Dozer with a wave. "Carter could've come in unexpectedly. Just go up there and if anyone asks you if there's something wrong, tell them you're feeling sick like you've been doing all day. They'll want you to get out of their face fast if you say that."
"OK, so where do I go?"
Henry followed Bert's directions carefully up stairways and through a maze of corridors until he came to a secretary at a large desk outside what looked to be an impressive office, if the doorway and the outer sitting area were any indications.
"Go right in, Hunter," the secretary said, smiling warmly at him.
Henry tried to swallow, but he ended up by almost choking himself, his mouth was so dry. He looked back at the secretary as if she might give him some final advice, then opened the heavy office door, and went in. What he saw was not what he'd expected.
Chapter 40
It had taken Camille only two days to get everything in order. She was surprised that she hadn't heard from Tony during that time. Usually he didn't go more than a day or two without checking up on her, even when he was off on business. But when she considered the magnitude of what he was doing, it didn't surprise her at all. Camille was tortured with what to do about Hunter Logan's wife during her entire drive back to the city. Something horrible was going on, of that she had no doubt. She knew Tony well enough to know that he was capable of anything, but she had never imagined that he would actually do something as heinous as kidnapping.
Then she wondered to herself if that's what it was. Maybe she should stay out of it. That was bullshit, she concluded angrily. At least if she was going to do what was best for herself, she could be honest about it. It wasn't all that hard really. She didn't owe anyone anything, and there was no love lost between her and Hunter's wife. They'd only met on rare occasions, and Camille remembered her as being a perfect bitch. There was also Tony to consider. She might be able to hide from him if he was only searching for her halfheartedly, but if she crossed Tony and hurt him in any way, she hated to imagine what he'd do to her. She did know this: If she caused him trouble, he wouldn't stop looking until he found her.
That night she stayed in her own apartment overlooking the East; River. It was a lonely place, especially after the hustle and bustle that always seemed to be going on at Tony's. It was noon when she finally got into bed. She slept through the afternoon and into Monday night.
The next morning, Camille was up early. She turned on the radio and listened for some news about the quarterback's wife. There was nothing. On her way to the travel agency, she picked up a New York Times. There was nothing suspicious about Hunter Logan, only something about his bad shoulder probably keeping him out of practice for the week. This puzzled Camille and gave her further reason to fend for herself. Obviously Hunter Logan would know if his wife was gone and do something about it. People would know. Hunter Logan wasn't exactly a guy people didn't talk about. And then, maybe she'd been mistaken about the whole thing. Maybe the woman was just someone who looked like Hunter's wife.
Camille got a flight out to Zurich for the next day. Her father was away at an NFL owners' meeting, and she fretted a little about not saying good-bye, but she knew she could get him to come visit her after the season. Besides, he had his life, she had hers. At least she would have hers after she put an ocean between her and Tony Rizzo.
It did take some time to get her money wired, and she had to wait until Wednesday to sign some papers that would send more money over when her trust fund made its next disbursement. She didn't know for sure how long she was going to lie low, but she knew it would be long after this whole mess blew over. She spent Tuesday night in her apartment packing. Most of her favorite clothes were at Tony's, but she didn't dare take a chance of showing up around there. She did her best and finished a couple of bottles of late-harvest Riesling while she worked.
By eleven she was drunk and unconcerned about Hunter Logan, his wife, or Tony Rizzo, for that matter. Her thoughts were focused on Europe and the kind of man she wanted to get first. She thought a tall, handsome blonde with a big smile and a genial manner would be her first conquest, the exact opposite of Tony and an easy type to find in Zurich. That night Camille slept the peaceful sleep of a woman whose already limited conscience was completely quelled by alcohol.
She was at the gate in Kennedy International Airport when she changed her mind. She checked when the next flight was, changed her ticket, and flagged down a passing limousine. She waved a hundred-dollar bill at the driver and told him to take her to the Titans' facility in Merrick.
Her father's secretary told her that the team had finished practice a half hour ago.
"Get me Hunter Logan," Camille said as she let herself into her father's office.
Because of the incredible beauty of the girl and the way she was looking at him, Henry briefly wondered if his brother had been pulling some double duty. She looked as though she had come straight out of a Coors commercial. He didn't have much time to enjoy her, though. After only a few seconds of that radiant smile, the blonde's mouth dropped into a tough, angry line.
"Hunter?" she said.
"Y-yes," Henry replied in a subdued voice, his eyes still roving.
Camille stood staring at him for several moments before saying, "Who are you?"
"I--I'm Hunter," Henry said, completely off balance.
"Of course," said Camille sarcastically. "Don't tell me, you're his twin brother."
Henry was floored. His mouth hung slightly ajar.
Camille smiled ever so slightly. Tell me what's going on. I want to know."
Henry hesitated.
"Look," Camille said abruptly, "I came here to help. I want to know what the hell's going on before I lay my life on the line for some woman I don't even know and don't want to know, for that matter."
"How--how'd you know," Henry said, shaken by the forceful determination of the girl. "How'd you know I was Hunter's twin?"
Camille shrugged. "I got the file on him from the team. I read everything they had. I remember reading about a twin brother. I knew right away you weren't him. Not by the way you look. You look just like him. It's the way you looked at me. You looked surprised, knocked off your feet. If I didn't do that to Hunter Logan in a bathing suit, I certainly wouldn't be able to do it in jeans and a blouse. I don't think there's any woman that knocks Hunter Logan off his feet--except maybe his wife. She's why I'm here. I know where she is."
"You know?" Henry said, bringing his thumb and forefinger up to his chin, feeling for the beard that wasn't there.
Camille nodded, then looked impatiently at her watch. "Look, I don't know why you're here, but I'm going to tell you how to get to the cabin where Rachel is. I'm not going to write it down or say it twice. I don't want anyone to know that I told you. I don't want any part of this shit. I just want to help Hunter. Any guy that sticks to his wife like he does deserves to keep her if he can."
Camille held up her hand and said, "I don't want to know anything from you except if you'll pass the message on to Hunter. You better tell him to get to her quick. I'm no expert, but I didn't think she looked too good."
Henry nodded. "I'll tell him. I don't know when I'll see him, but it should be soon."
He listened carefully to what Camille told him. Then she was gone. She didn't say good-bye or wait for a thank-you, she just left. Henry stood there for a few moments,
taking everything in, then turned and left himself. He could only hope now that Hunter would contact him soon.
In the large cobblestone fireplace the fire crackled. Carl and Tony sat in large chairs facing the blaze. Carl shifted nervously in his chair and ran his eyes around the interior of the log structure. Even though it was a cabin, it was nicer than the home in which he'd grown up on Long Island. The thick wood beams were adorned with Native American rugs and paintings. To Carl the place was more like a museum than a hunting cabin, but that wasn't why he was nervous.
He had never been alone with Tony before, and Tony wasn't saying anything. He was just sitting there staring at the fire. He heard Mike Cometti banging around in the kitchen. Even though Carl wasn't particularly fond of Mikey, he wished Mikey was there. Anything would be better than being alone with Tony and having nothing to say.
To make matters worse, the woman had been rattling her handcuffs loudly against the headboard of her bed with increasing intensity. This didn't seem to faze Tony at all. Carl, however, wished he could go in there and club her over the head to shut her up.
Finally Tony spoke, "Go in there and see what she wants."
Carl got up. He was the only one who had had contact with Rachel since they'd taken her from her home last Saturday night.
He hated it, watching her while she peed and then locking her back up to the bed, taking in her food, but he did what Tony said. He opened the door to the bedroom where she was being kept and carefully avoided her eyes. He had only looked at her eyes once. They had been alive with hatred and disgust, and he was afraid if he looked at her again he would have to hurt her, and Tony had said specifically that he wasn't to hurt her. Most of the time she was drugged anyway. He put some drops that Tony had given him in her food, but there was always one time during the day when she came out of her drugged state. Angelo told him it was so the drug didn't kill her. That was when he usually had to go in and take her to the bathroom, like now.
When Carl returned to his chair by the fire, he sat down with a heavy sigh. He stole a glance at Tony, who remained unmoved. He looked at his watch and wondered when Angelo would be back. Tony had sent him into the city for something. He wished it would be soon. Carl loved being around Angelo. He never made Carl nervous.
"Carl," Tony said, making Carl jump in his seat, "I have something very important for you to do."
Tony let the words hang in the air like the thin trail of smoke from the fire. Carl felt his heart race. His senses were heightened and he was almost nauseated by the pungent smell of burning hardwood. His mind spun with the gravity of what was happening. Angelo had warned him of this moment, and Carl had awaited it as a child awaits Christmas. Angelo had told him how it would be.
'You'll be alone with Tony," he'd said. "He'll tell you he has something for you to do. It will be something important."
Carl had been worried.
"Don't worry," Angelo had said, "you'll know it when it happens. Then you'll do whatever it is he wants."
Carl had wondered what that would be. He'd thought of a million things that it could be, but now, with the moment at hand, his mind drew a blank.
There's going to be a new order of things inside the family," Tony was saying. "I am going to be running things, Carl. You may have already guessed it."
Tony now stared at Carl as though he expected Carl to say something intelligent. Carl tried to swallow. He gave a feeble nod and did his best to look like he had already guessed it.
"What I' m telling you must be between you and me. I'm giving you what will be the most important job anyone's ever done in this family--and, of course, when you're done, you'll be a part of the family.
"I'm going to make you one of my soldiers, Carl. You'll be under Angelo, but you'll have interests of your own."
Carl looked at the floor. He was numb, like a robot whose joints were frozen with rust. Carl lurched to the floor on one knee and bowed his head. No one had told him to do this, but he wanted to do something, show some sign of how great he considered Tony Rizzo to be. He might have ended up prostrate on the floor if Tony hadn't told him to get up and sit down.
"Like I said," Tony continued, "just as important as you doing the job is you keeping absolutely quiet about it. If you say anything, even to Angelo, especially to him, he won't have any respect for you, Carl. Silence is very important in our business. That's part of the test.
"In fact, this job is so important, I'd do it myself if I could, but I can't See, Carl, I'm going to be taking over the Mondolffi family. My mother was a Mondolffi, and my father was the one who got this family through the tough times in the sixties when all that Kennedy shit hit the fan. So now it's my turn. It's time for me to take charge of things."
Carl felt the thrill any novice feels when he's taken into the confidence of the master. He was at the center of things, big things.
"The heads of the other families have asked me to take things over," Tony said importantly. "Part of that is doing something with my uncle.
"I can't do it myself. If I were to kill my uncle with my own hands, the other families would never recognize me as the head of the family. That's something that goes back hundreds of years. No godfather can ever kill another godfather. That's what your job is, Carl. You're going to kill my Uncle Vinny."
Tony chose to refer to his uncle that way to reduce his importance in Carl's mind. He didn't want him fully cognizant of the magnitude of the act or its possible consequences.
Carl's jaw hung loosely from his face, and he looked at Tony with amazement Tony wondered if he'd made a mistake.
"I am honored, Tony," Carl said, removing all doubt not only with his words but with the awe in which they were delivered. "I've waited all my life for this chance. I won't disappoint you."
"Good," Tony said with an unusually warm and sincere smile. "I knew you were the one, Carl."
Carl nodded, this time assertively. He was the one. He believed that.
"It has to happen on Sunday morning, Carl," Tony said. "My uncle thinks Sunday is like a fucking holiday or something, like everyone's safe on Sunday. Every Sunday morning he gets up at six and walks out to the curb himself to get the paper."
Tony's eyes wandered to the fire and seemed to lose their focus.
"He says that's how he stays in touch with reality, my uncle," he said in a distracted tone, "getting the fucking paper. Walking out in his neighborhood just like any regular schmuck would do. Since I was a kid I knew that would be the way to get him .. . fucking Sunday morning."
Now Tony's gaze returned to Carl and fixed on him. His eyes were dark and his handsome face burned with intensity. He spoke in abrupt sentences that were both businesslike and precise.
"My uncle will come out about five after six. I want you to rent a car and park it down the street about five-thirty. Not too far, you need to be able to see when he comes out of the door. Ears will be sleeping in the car parked out front. When my uncle is almost to the street, you pull up, nice and slow. Get out of the car. Shoot Ears, then my uncle.
"I've got a machine pistol that I'm going to give you. You'll use it initially to waste Ears and drop my uncle. Then--and this is the most important part, Carl--after you empty the clip, I'll give you an unmarked .38 that you'll use to empty into my uncle's head. There'll be no fuck-ups on this. If I find out that there aren't five slugs in my uncle's brain, then you fucked up. Five bullets, Carl. The machine gun is just to take out Ears and keep my uncle from running into the house. There won't be anyone else around. You'll feel like you need to get out of there quick, but you won't. You'll have plenty of time. Do the job right, Carl. It's the beginning of everything for you, Carl.
"I want you to leave here tonight."
The sun had dropped behind die buildings that rose above the trees in Central Park, leaving a bloody swatch in the sky that Hunter would have considered beautiful under different circumstances. The night was quickly turning cool, a typical October evening in New York. Cook had dozed off in the d
river's seat and left Hunter at the watch. Hunter sniffed the air. It was stale and stuffy. He felt like he had to get out of the car, but Cook had warned him to stay put, adding that they could never know when the moment for them to move would come.
Hunter's whole body ached, especially his shoulder. They'd done nothing but sit now for two days, leaving the confines of the car only to get food or use the bathroom in a little Greek diner two blocks away. Cook had also prevented Hunter from checking in with Henry during this time because he didn't trust the phone. The lack of activity allowed the aches to settle into Hunter's football-damaged body. Even though he could put the seat all the way back and stretch out his legs, he was still confined to the car.
His mind ached, too. For several hours he was alert and nervous, expecting Tony Rizzo to appear at any moment. Then he experienced a period of depression where he chastised himself for what had happened to Rachel and tortured himself with morbid thoughts of what might happen. He tried his best to keep cool about things, like Cook, but it wasn't happening.
"Cook," Hunter said, nudging the agent from his sleep. "Cook, come on. I'm telling you, we've got to do something. I can't stand this shit. I can't stand it. She's out there, Cook, and we're doing nothing. We're just sitting."
Cook reluctantly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gave a heavy sigh. He hadn't worked with a rookie in a long time.
"OK," Cook said patiently, "I'll give it to you again. Finding someone isn't like in the movies. You don't just pick up a trail and start chasing someone in your car. A stake-out is about patience, and that's the only way they pay off, if you're patient."
"But there has to be something we can do!" Hunter said passionately. "I know what you're saying, but we have to do more!"
Cook shook his head wearily. "Look," he said, "I'll say it again. We're playing the best cards we have. We don't know where Rachel is because we don't know where Rizzo is. If we find Rizzo, I bet we'll find Rachel. So the best way to find Rizzo is to wait right here. He will come back here."