by Bob Mayer
“Intriguing,” Pope said after shuffling through. “Appears to be a two-tier strategy.” He pulled a magnifying glass out of his satchel and peered closely.
“What do you mean?”
“One map is obviously the contracts for construction of Westway and affiliated programs based on the current plan. Which means Marcelle and Damon assume they’ll get the authority from the Mayor’s office to do so. I’d say they’re very much against Bella Abzug for the nomination given she’s anti-Westway.”
“Yeah, I learned that.”
“The other map, though, indicates foresight. It’s for properties that will be purchased for Westway’s right of way, or remain, but be adjacent. One can assume the value of both will appreciate considerably once the project gets the green light. As best I can tell from my brief study, Marcelle and Damon are in the process of buying up as much as they can.
“If I put on my reporter hat, I’d be most interested discovering where they’re getting the money to do this. They’ve already sunk quite a bit of capital into buildings and land of dubious current value. It would take time to decipher their shorthand. But from the glance, I’d say Marcelle and Damon aren’t cutting others in on that part of the operation. They must be leveraged to the hilt.”
“Greedy.”
“I wonder who is fronting the money,” Pope murmured. “It has to be a significant amount.” He finally looked up. “Is this information proprietary or may I give a sniff to a friend? She’d love to, as the mobsters say, dip her beak into it.”
Kane shrugged. “I don’t care. Just don’t quote me as the source.”
“Eminently understandable,” Pope said, “as it affects your place of employ. I don’t suppose I could get a copy of these photos from an unnamed source?”
Kane considered it. “Let me think on that. Depends how things go the next couple of days. I’ll probably be looking for a new job anyway.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that,” Pope said. He handed back the Westway plan photos. Tapped the property ones. “These would facilitate gathering the information on Damon and Marcelle’s current situation. I have a friend who could help me dig and peel through what are obviously front companies they’re using the buy the properties, but it would be easier having the specific addresses that you’ve captured. Perhaps time might be a critical factor, given your early morning visit?”
“Those two bozos weren’t connected to Damon,” Kane pointed out. “But yeah, I’d like to learn more about what Damon is up to. And how deep Thomas Marcelle is involved. And anyone else. There’s an apartment at Seven Gramercy owned by a company called Advantage LLC. I’d like to know who that is.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me, lad,” Pope said. “One tidbit my source did pass on is something to factor in. He said that Damon is considered bullet-proof in this city.”
“What does that mean?”
“My source does not use that term lightly,” Pope said. “In essence, he says Damon is considered hands-off by all levels of law enforcement.”
“Why?”
“He has very powerful friends in high places.”
Kane stared down Jane Street, early morning sunlight illuminating the leaves a shimmering mélange of green. “I’ll keep it in my mind.” He stood. “But there is another reality.”
“And that is?”
Kane tapped the .45. “No one is truly bullet-proof.”
MEATPACKING DISTRICT, MANHATTAN
Kane leaned against the wall, the handset for the payphone next to the entrance to the kitchen cradled between ear and right shoulder. He’d dropped copies of the photos in a mailbox on the way to the diner to be delivered to Plaikos at West Point.
It was answered on the third ring. “Riley.”
“Uncle Conner, it’s Will.”
“Hey, kiddo. What’s going on?”
“You went to the accident, didn’t you?”
A few seconds of silence ticked by. “Yeah.”
“Did Taryn have any documents with her?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Paperwork. A file folder. An envelope. Anything?”
“Geez, Will. I wasn’t looking for stuff like that. When I got there, they’d already taken Taryn to the hospital. And Joseph, well, Nathan had covered him with his jacket.”
“Nathan was there first?”
“Yeah. He was at your parent’s place, helping set up the party for your homecoming. I was on duty. But the precinct sergeant called both of us right away. Nathan was only a few blocks away. Will, we weren’t looking for stuff. All we cared about was Taryn and Joseph.”
“All right.”
“What’s going on?”
The Kid came in, smiling and bopping. He paused when he didn’t see Kane in his usual spot, then spotted him by the phone and waved. Kane gestured for him to go to the booth.
“I’m checking on something. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Will?”
Kane hung up and sat in the booth. Pulled a five off his money clip and passed it to the Kid. He put the paper next to his map case on the table. “Thanks.”
“How’d you like the GT?” the Kid asked.
“The what?”
“The car.”
“Oh. It was nice.”
“The music?”
Kane extracted the tape from his shirt pocket. “Sorry. Didn’t get a chance to listen to it.”
The Kid was crestfallen.
Morticia slid over, depositing coffee, water/two cubes. “Would you like anything, sweetie?” she asked the Kid.
“No thanks,” the Kid said. “Long night. Gotta get some sleep.”
“Where do you live?” Kane asked.
The Kid’s eyes grew guarded. “Not far. Usually Tribeca in the abandoned buildings.”
“Nothing certain?”
The Kid laughed. “Nah. Can’t afford rent. I crash where I can.”
“Why are you asking?” Morticia challenged Kane.
“I was making conversation,” Kane said. “But, Kid, if you ever need a place, 233 Jane Street. The bed is always free in the basement bedroom. The old man upstairs is there most of the time. Name’s Pope. He’s a good guy. He can let you in. But it’s probably not the safest right now. I’ve had some not so good people show up there recently.”
“You’ve had some not so good people show up here,” Morticia threw in. “You’re becoming popular with the not so good crowd.”
“Okay,” the Kid said tentatively.
Kane waited until Morticia moved off to serve a table on the far side. “Listen, you know someone who can take care of a car?”
“’Take care of’?” The Kid repeated.
“Make it disappear.”
“You mean a stolen car?”
“Not stolen,” Kane said. “Dispossessed and the owners won’t need it anymore.”
“Yeah, I know a chop shop,” the Kid said.
Kane pulled out the keys. “Cadillac. It’s parked on Jane Street, near Greenwich.”
“They’ll pay for it,” the Kid said, taking the keys.
“Keep whatever you get,” Kane said.
“Thanks,” the Kid said, edging out of the seat. He scurried out of the diner, leaving the cassette on the table.
“You should at least have listened to the music,” Morticia said. She picked up the cassette. “Oh, the Ramones. You’ll like this. A new sound.”
Kane fought a flinch as she slipped it back in his shirt pocket. “I got a lot going on, as you’ve noted.”
“It’s not going to get better,” Morticia said as Toni entered via the Washington Street door.
“Coffee black?” Morticia asked Toni as she walked by.
Toni nodded. “Thanks.” She sat across from Kane and removed her sunglasses. “How do things stand with Strong?”
“We have an understanding,” Kane said.
Toni raised an eyebrow. “Care to share?”
“Strong and I
made a pact to exchange the truth,” Kane said. “It’s more than I can say for most people in my life.”
Toni’s eyes narrowed. “My personal life is my business.”
“It is,” Kane agreed. “What’s going on with Westway and your father and Sean Damon?”
Morticia placed a cup of coffee in front of Toni and moved away. Not very far.
“That’s not your business,” Toni said.
“Are you involved in it? Damon was at the firm the other morning. When you had to go to the conference room.”
“Again. Not your business.”
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on,” Kane said.
“Will, the list of things you haven’t been able to help with is quite long.”
“As long as the list of things I don’t know about.”
“Longer.”
Kane didn’t say anything.
“You haven’t asked why I’m here,” Toni said.
“No. I haven’t.”
“Mrs. Delgado is in the hospital.”
Kane waited for the rest.
“She was beaten,” Toni said.
“How do you feel about that?”
Toni blinked. “What?”
“Mrs. Delgado getting beaten,” Kane said. “How do you feel about that?”
“It’s terrible,” Toni said.
“Do you feel responsible?”
“No. And you haven’t asked me who did it.”
“I assume Alfonso Delgado,” Kane said. “Did she tell you?”
“I saw her briefly in the ER. She told me, but she won’t tell the cops.”
“Why not?”
“Because the mob doesn’t invite the police into their business,” Toni said.
“Has she informed her father, Don Cappucci?” Kane asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But she will or already did since you talked to her.”
“Most likely.”
The pay phone rang. On the third ring, Thao exited the kitchen and answered. He began writing five letter blocks on a meal ticket as he listened.
“So she won’t need a divorce,” Kane said. “Case closed.”
“What is wrong with you?” Toni demanded.
Thao handed two meal tickets to Morticia.
“You haven’t been to your office yet, have you?” Kane asked Toni.
“No. I stopped by here on my way. To let you know.”
“What hospital is she in?”
“Mount Sinai.”
“Same as Farrah.”
Toni blinked. “What happened to Farrah?”
Kane removed his two ice pellets and dropped them in his coffee. “She was beaten. Seems to be catching.”
“What’s wrong, Will?”
“That’s a long list too, Toni. The short list is what is right?” He took a sip of coffee, put the mug down and leaned back in the booth. His shoulders drooped and he rolled his head back, eyes half-closed. “The doorman’s son at Gramercy? Malcolm. Did you ever meet him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’d know. He had no legs. Ran the elevator from his wheelchair.”
“You used the past tense again.”
“He’s dead.”
“Fuck,” Toni said.
“Sean Damon shot him, after he beat Farrah. Surprised you haven’t heard. Given your father is his lawyer.”
Toni also sat back against the worn vinyl.
“Those years I went missing?” Kane said. “I went quite a few places. Did a lot of different things. Spent a lot of time trying to forget. There’s only one way that really works and since I’m here, you can assume I didn’t succeed on that path. I tried, but in ineffectual ways. Drugs, alcohol, stupid fights in bad places. Which means I was either a coward or it wasn’t to be my path, at least according to Thao. So I cleaned up and I spent time learning from the masters.”
“To meditate?”
“No. I learned what you saw the other day with Cibosky. I thought it might help with my anger issues.”
“Doesn’t seem to have.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.”
“You feel better?”
“No,” Kane said. “And nobody is going to feel better now either.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever you want it to,” Kane said. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Yet. But too many people are pushing me, too hard. I shouldn’t have come back to the States. Especially not to the city. Too many ghosts. I thought I might be able to fit back into society in some way. I’m leaning toward that being an error.”
“Get off your weepy wagon, Will,” Toni said. “We’ve all had tough times. We’ve all suffered losses. We’ve all known pain. You. Me. The waitress who is trying to listen in.” Toni slid out of the booth. She leaned over so only Kane could hear. “You don’t know me. You don’t know the things I’ve gone through. Just as I don’t know a lot about you. But grant me one thing. It’s something I’ve given to you from the start.”
“What’s that?” Kane asked.
“Respect without having to know.” Toni walked out without looking at Morticia or back at Kane.
“I’m sorry,” Morticia said.
“For listening in?”
“Nah,” Morticia said. “It’s a public place. She could have called you into chambers or whatever it is lawyers do if she wanted privacy. I’m apologizing for being hard on you. That was nice of you to tell the Kid where you live and offer it.”
“You don’t know his real name either, do you?” Kane said.
“Oh, I know it,” Morticia said. “It’s his prerogative whether he wants to tell you or not. You know why you don’t remember people’s names, Kane?”
“Why?”
“You don’t care that much about them.”
“I thought you weren’t going to be hard on me?”
“I apologized past tense,” Morticia said. “Besides, that’s not being hard on you. It’s advice. You can change that.”
“What’s your real name?”
“Nice try.”
“Did Toni help your friend?”
Morticia grew guarded. “Sort of. Why? What did she say to you?”
“Nothing,” Kane said. “Actually, the same as you. That I don’t know anybody’s name.”
“As I said. You can fix that.”
“Not if they won’t tell me their names.”
Morticia held up the meal tickets. “More cryptic messages from Thao. These things don’t make sense. One is from yesterday.”
Kane took the tickets. “You get into everyone’s stuff, don’t you?”
“Only when I’m put in the middle of it. What’s with the blocks of letters?”
Kane put the tickets on the table and pulled out his notebook, opening to the trigraph. “It’s a secure commo system we use in Special Forces.” He tapped the notepad. “Thao has this trigraph memorized. I’ve got to use one. Sort of like I need this to keep track of names.”
“Names are easier,” Morticia said.
“True.”
“Thao’s a genius isn’t he?”
Kane nodded. “Yeah. He’s got special talents.”
“Why’s he a cook?”
“Why are you a waitress?” Kane shot back. “He’s studying to be more.”
“Good for him,” Morticia said. “And your friend, Toni? She’s too thin. Probably cocaine.”
“It is cocaine,” Kane agreed. “And stress. Any other words of wisdom?”
“Take care of yourself, Kane. This place would be boring without you.” Morticia glided away to serve some new customers.
MOUNT SINAI HOSPITAL, MANHATTAN
A hospital can be approached as a beacon of healing and hope or a pit of pain and death. Kane leaned toward the latter. He avoided them as much as possible. As a child the few times his mother had been in the hospital, he’d gotten nauseous, even running out once. He’d been chased down by his father, who’d publicly castigated him in the lobby
.
That hadn’t helped his attitude toward hospitals.
Neither had his own hospital stay after his first tour.
Farrah and Sofia Delgado were on different floors. Kane checked on Farrah first. She shared a room with three other women, all in various stages of battering. Her eyes were closed. Her face had been scrubbed of makeup and she was lost in the hospital gown and blanket. Kane paused, staring at her for several seconds.
She opened her eyelids. “I saw you coming. I was hoping you’d keep going.” Her brow was covered in sweat.
He sat down on a chair next to the bed. “Why is that?”
“I don’t want to cause anyone else trouble.” She wasn’t focused, the pain meds on top of withdrawal.
“You’d have to get in line. And you’d be pretty far back.”
Farrah sighed, then winced. “They kept me here. My back is worse than I thought. He really laid into me.”
“Sean Damon.”
Farrah nodded. “But you can’t tell the cops!”
“They know,” Kane said, realizing she couldn’t recall some of what happened. “He killed Malcolm. But he’s claiming self-defense. Nothing will come of it.”
“Oh,” Farrah sighed defeat. She gathered some strength. “Don’t you do nothing!”
“I’m here to see how you’re feeling,” Kane said.
“How is James?” Farrah asked. “Malcolm was everything to him.”
Kane wiped her forehead with a hand towel. “Are you detoxing?”
She closed her eyes tight. A single tear appeared at edge of each eye. A terse nod. “It’s not too bad. I wasn’t using much. The hospital meds are hitting me more than anything else. Hard to stay awake.”
“Malcolm was supplying you?”
Another terse nod.
“Is that why Damon beat you? Because you were using?”
Her eyes opened. “I was sloppy. He saw a needle mark. I crossed the line.”
“His line. Did you tell him Malcolm was your supplier?”
She looked away. “Not at first. But then it hurt so bad. I tried to defend myself like you said. I cut him a few times, but he got the knife. And really laid into me. I finally told him. Then he went out and I heard the shots a little bit later. I was hoping it was you shooting. And you’d killed him.”