New York Minute

by Bob Mayer

“Fuck you.”

  “What about the custody thing?” Kane demanded. “Did she come up with that or did you help her?”

  “That was her,” Toni said. “And she had valid points. I agreed with her.”

  “Fuck you,” Kane said.

  They sat with the drum roll for several seconds.

  Kane gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. “The guy who was harassing James at Gramercy. Was that a set up to get me there? Hook me up with Farrah?”

  Toni rolled her eyes. “You know what the word obtuse means? Did they teach you that at Hudson High as it relates to more than just a triangle in engineering?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Yes and no.” She glanced down at his hands. “Mad? Going to hit me, Will?” She rattled the table with her nails harder, much like Ruiz typing in response to Monty Python.

  Kane closed his eyes briefly, removed his hands from the edge of the table, put them on his thighs and squeezed hard into his own flesh. Took a deep breath. “Never.”

  Toni stopped tapping. “I know. Taryn thought you might have killed someone in cold blood in Vietnam but one thing she was certain of: you loved her and Joseph. At least in the fucked-up way you thought love was. Is. Whatever. You’d never hurt them deliberately. It was the not deliberate stuff that destroyed her. I know you’re my friend. You’ve got a lot of faults, but dependability isn’t one of them. That’s never changed. But there’s only so much you can do, isn’t there? Your dependability didn’t help Ted.”

  Kane’s voice was harsh. “Don’t go there.”

  “You’re right. That was mean.”

  Kane veered from analysis. “What did you mean ‘yes and no’ about Farrah?”

  “Yes, it was a set up. But not by me.”

  “You called me to go there.” Kane leaned back in the chair, freeing his thighs from his fingers.

  “You know what goes on in that apartment?” Toni asked. “What really goes on?”

  “Strong showed me the camera.”

  “You know who owns the place?”

  “A company called Advantage LLC, which I’m guessing is Sean Damon.”

  “Very good.” Toni nodded. “Okay, you’re up to speed a bit. The next part should have been simple deduction. Damon set you up.”

  Kane shook his head. “Why? I first went there back in February.”

  “It’s what Damon does,” Toni said.

  “I still don’t get why he’d want to set me up?”

  Toni repeated herself slowly. “It’s what Damon does.”

  “Why did Damon give a shit about me in February? He never met me. How did he even know I existed?” Kane twisted in the chair and his hand went for the .45 as the back door swung open.

  “Relax, lad,” Pope said, holding up his cup. “Forgot my tea.”

  They both waited as Pope poured himself a generous jolt, then leaned the bottle toward Toni. She nodded and he topped her off. “William?”

  Kane shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  “Apologies for intruding,” Pope said. He exited.

  As soon as the door shut, Toni explained. “Don’t take it personally. Damon learned we had a new investigator working for the firm. He wanted leverage on you, like he wants leverage on everyone in his orbit. Just in case.”

  “I thought I was paranoid,” Kane said.

  “You are. So is he. Except he likes staying ahead of the power curve. When I was ordered to send you there, I called Farrah. Asked her not to film you. Because unlike many people, I happen to like you.”

  “She didn’t film me.”

  “And she probably got the shit beat out of her for that. When Damon checked his archives, because now he wanted it, he discovered the film with your name on it was blank.”

  “Fuck. Where are his archives?”

  “Lots of people in the city would love to know that.”

  Kane tried to understand. “Who actually told you to send me there in February? Damon directly?”

  “Father. On Damon’s orders.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s a lot of fucks,” Toni said, an attempt at a smile.

  “Why is your father doing what Damon wants?” Kane asked.

  Toni looked past him, out the window at Pope, whose weeding consisted of sitting on a wood bench and sipping from the cup while sweating.

  Kane rubbed his forehead. “Okay, I’m slow but I’m catching up. Damon has dirt on your father? He was ahead of him when he was the prosecutor. That’s why you father cut the deal.”

  Toni nodded, but still didn’t look at him.

  “Your father threw everything away just ‘cause he was caught on film screwing a hooker?”

  Toni finally faced him. “It’s worse than that. First, my mother has the money. She brought it into the marriage. So a divorce would have gutted father financially. But I think he could have survived that. Downgraded his life-style. He would have been fired by the Feds. Even that he could have survived.”

  “What was it, then? What was worse?”

  Toni shook her head. “What else did you go through at the firm?”

  “You guys don’t leave much lying around,” Kane admitted. “Your combination was easy to figure out. And Ted’s footlocker in your father’s office had the same combo from West Point.”

  “And?”

  “The Westway plan in the boardroom on the back side of the sliding doors.”

  “Shit.” Toni let out a deep sigh. “You took pictures?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s a bomb you’re sitting on,” Toni said. “People get vicious when that much money is involved.”

  “And your father and Damon are slicing it up and will be passing it out. And they’re buying up property.”

  “Wait?” Toni was surprised. “What do you mean buying up property?”

  “Where Westway will go,” Kane said. “And next to where it will be. There’s two maps in the boardroom.”

  “I’ve only seen the one with the plans,” Toni said. “And that was just briefly.”

  Kane stared at her.

  “Fuck you,” Toni said again.

  “Your father isn’t letting you in on that?”

  “Apparently not,” Toni said.

  “And you talk about my family?”

  “Have you told anyone? Shown anyone the pictures?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not ever,” Toni said. “You’re way out of your league, Will. I’ve been trying to tell you. The Delgado case is closed. If you have a deal worked out with Strong, then the Cibosky killing will go away. Do not get involved with my father or Damon or Westway.”

  “Or you?” Kane asked, “You’re in on the Westway contracts, right?”

  “I’m not in on anything,” Toni said. “Told you. I’ve set up my own place.”

  “You’re the second woman who’s said that to me today,” Kane said. “That she has a plan to get out. Her plan didn’t work well.”

  “Burn the photos,” Toni said. “Destroy the negatives. Do not send to your fucking cut out.”

  “Who else knew?” Kane asked.

  “Knew what?”

  “About Taryn filing for custody and the divorce? Who else knew?”

  “Whoever she told. I certainly didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Except Mrs. Ruiz,” Kane said.

  “I trust her.”

  “Yeah, but now I know why she doesn’t like me. You know who I saw this morning at the hospital?”

  “Farrah.”

  “And Mrs. Delgado,” Kane said. “Know who was with her?”

  Toni folded her arms across her chest.

  Kane gave it a few more seconds, but she didn’t bite. “Quinn. The Cappucci family enforcer. And he was kissing her. Much like you were at Studio 54. Seems Mrs. Delgado, or we should say Ms. Cappucci now, gets around.”

  “So?”

  “You don’t care?”

  “Why should I?”

  “I assume the Cappucc
i family is in on Westway?”

  “They get some contracts. Everyone gets a taste. Which is why you need to stay away and burn those pictures. This is so much bigger than father and I.”

  “Yeah. I’m picking up on that. Did you tell Sofia Cappucci about me? That I was on the case?”

  “We already discussed that.”

  “We discussed it before I knew that both you and Quinn were fucking her.”

  “Technically, I’m not fucking her.”

  “I’m not in the mood for bullshit,” Kane said. “Here’s the thing. I wondered how Quinn knew about me. About the Army. More importantly about Taryn and Joseph. And now I know, don’t I?”

  For the first time Toni didn’t meet his eyes. “I might have said something. I honestly can’t recall.”

  “Because you were high on cocaine? Drunk on champagne?”

  “I think we’re done here.”

  “Hold on.” Kane backtracked. “Was Taryn going to serve me at the airport?”

  “I don’t know,” Toni said. “Really. I don’t.” Her shoulders slumped, but she met his eyes. “She might not have served you at all. She might have torn it up. She was going to make her decision when she met you. What she felt when she finally saw you. It was hard for everyone.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Toni said, fire sparking in her eyes. “Don’t fuck with Damon. I’m not ‘going along’ with Westway, Will. That would be like saying you went along by going up Hill 1338 or the next worthless hill where you got shot six months later.”

  “I’m going to be sick,” Kane said. “Excuse me.”

  Toni was shocked. “What?”

  Kane put a finger to his lips and indicated for her to remain where she was. He went to the bathroom and shut the door loudly, remaining outside, then moved silently to the back door, gently opened it and slipped outside.

  When Pope looked up at him, Kane indicated for him to be quiet. He hopped the wood fence into the yard behind the next brownstone. Then the next fence into the narrow alley between it and the building next door. He ran to the front and stopped. Peered out at the tree-lined street. A Con-Ed van was parked on the far side of the street, forty yards away. But there were no open manhole covers or, per Con Ed SOP, a cluster of guys standing around chatting while one worked.

  Kane drew the .45 and sprinted for the van. He jerked the back door open, leveling the gun at the man sitting at the electronics console that lined one side.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” the guy yelled, ripping the headphones off and holding up his hands. “Take it easy, cowboy.”

  Kane climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “You alone?”

  The guy nodded. He wasn’t Robert Redford. A lanky man in his thirties, he sat on a rolling chair, shirt soaked in perspiration. It was sweltering inside the van and stunk of sweat, bad fast food, and boredom.

  Kane looked over the gear, keeping gun on target. Receiver, two tape recorders, both reels turning. Radio. “What’s your name?”

  “Fuck you. You got no right to be in here.”

  “Okay, mister ‘fuck you’, you had a choice which way to take this and that was the wrong answer.” Kane returned the .45 to the holster.

  The guy dropped his hands, his right one angling toward a backpack. Kane snatched the guy’s left hand, snapping him forward away from the backpack, while simultaneously executing a short, side-kick into the armpit. With the force vectors in opposite directions, the arm popped from the shoulder socket.

  The guy screamed and Kane hit the solar plexus with his other hand. That increased the pain and cut off any more screams as the guy doubled over, left arm dangling.

  Kane shoved the chair to crash into the other side of the van. It wavered, then tipped over. Kane ignored the gasping and inarticulate sounds. He opened the backpack. A lunch pail and a High Standard .22. Kane removed the lunch pail. He pulled the spools of tape off the spindles. Checked a cabinet below the console and found six more reels. He tossed them in the backpack.

  The guy regained his breath. “You know who I work for?”

  “That’s why I’m in here,” Kane said. “Tell Trent I say hi.”

  The acknowledgement was in the guy’s eyes and his words: “You’re fucking with the wrong people.”

  “You know who I work for?” Kane said.

  The guy didn’t respond.

  “I work for me,” Kane said. “I don’t have to answer to anyone. That makes me unpredictable.” He removed the High Standard from the backpack, made sure there was a round in the chamber. Pointed it at the guy. “Still the best available, isn’t it? A classic, I tell people.”

  “I go missing they’ll send someone.”

  Kane pointed at the FM radio. “How often do you check in?”

  “I don’t. That’s for emergencies and for updates from higher.”

  “You don’t check in?”

  “What for? I’m on surveillance for data, not action. This fucking shoulder is killing me, man.”

  Kane asked: “Where are the transmitters?”

  The guy cradled his dislocated arm. “You won’t shoot me.”

  Kane cocked his head as if considering the decision. “Yeah. You’re right. You’re not worth the bullet.” He put the gun in the backpack. “But you have two shoulders.” He took a step toward the technician.

  “Hold on!”

  “Tick tock.”

  “Four.”

  “Where?”

  The tech rattled off their locations.

  “Anything else I need to know about this surveillance op?” Kane asked. “When is shift change?”

  “Two hours. I gotta get to a hospital, man.”

  “It’s dislocated,” Kane said. “Pops back in. I’d do it, but I don’t like you.” Kane grabbed the bad arm.

  The guy squealed. “I told you everything!”

  Kane slapped one cuff on the wrist, then locked the other end to a stanchion, out of double arm’s reach of the radio. “You got any balls, you can pop it back in. Don’t come back here.”

  He exited the van, the pack on his shoulder. Went in the front door. Pope and Toni waited in the kitchen.

  “Here.” Kane dropped the pack on the table. Removed the transmitter from the floor lamp behind Toni, and where he usually sat, and handed it to Pope. “There are three more in my apartment. I’ll get ‘em later.”

  “What’s going on?” Toni demanded.

  “Very Watergate.” Pope was looking at the device. “Nice engineering. They get smaller every year.”

  “Who is bugging you?” Toni asked.

  “CIA.” Kane opened the backpack and retrieved the High Standard. Held it out to Pope. “You know how to use it?”

  “Well enough. Is it silenced?”

  “No gun is silent,” Kane said, “but if you shoot it in here, it won’t be heard in the parlor.”

  Pope accepted the gun.

  “’CIA’?” Toni said. “Why is the CIA bugging this place?”

  “To see what I’m up to,” Kane said. “They came with a job offer a few days ago. I turned them down.”

  “They seem to take rejection poorly,” Pope said, holding up the bug and gun.

  “They take everything poorly,” Kane said. He looked at Toni. “Where were we? Oh yeah. Whether my wife was going to divorce me and take my kid away as I got off the plane from Vietnam after I got out of prison after being accused of murder.”

  “You forgot to say ‘falsely’ accused,” Toni said.

  “I hear my garden crying out for me.” Pope grabbed the bottle.

  Kane sat down and Toni took that as her cue to stand up. “We’re done here, Will. Stay away from Westway. Stay away from Damon.” She indicated the bugs. “You’ve got enough problems of your own. I don’t know what you’re into.”

  “Ditto.”

  She walked to the back door. Pushed the door partly open. “Thank you for your hospitality, Pope.”

  “You’re welcome, lass.”

  Toni left v
ia the front door as Pope came in the back, rivulets of sweat on his face, bottle in hand.

  “It’s damn hot out there,” the old man said, taking off his hat. He turned on the fan in the window. “Not much better.”

  “My sister and I tried sitting in front of the open refrigerator with a fan to cool off one time,” Kane said. The front door slammed shut. He switched seats.

  “How did that work?” Pope sat with a weary sigh.

  “Fine, until my dad came home from work. The beating negated the upside.” Kane was staring out the window, but his eyes were unfocused.

  “What are you going to do?” Pope asked.

  Kane gave an abrupt laugh. “About what? I’ve got several problems.”

  Pope picked up the bug. “This seems the most immediate.”

  “Not really. Trent was just gathering information to try to get me to say yes.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “And if he doesn’t accept that?” Pope asked. “How is he going to feel about what you did to his person in the van? I assume whoever is out there didn’t give up the reels and gun willingly. You didn’t kill him did you?”

  “No,” Kane said. “Trent doesn’t give a shit about anyone.”

  “But he is going to show up here.” Pope made it a statement.

  “I imagine.”

  “And? What then?”

  “I’ve got his number,” Kane said. “I’ll call him and set up a meeting. Away from your place.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “You called the diner this morning. Left a message that you had something?”

  Pope reached over and retrieved his leather satchel. “I researched the properties in the photos.” He removed the rubber bands from the Scholastic notebook, putting them on his wrist. “A number of shell companies.”

  “Advantage LLC?” Kane asked.

  “Damon’s.” Pope ran his finger down the notes. “Some of the oldest properties are under that umbrella. Damon’s had one place since the forties. Surprised the Feds didn’t find it when he was convicted but it was hidden pretty well.”

  “Seven Gramercy Park,” Kane said.

  Pope raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. You are familiar with it?”

  “Somewhat. He keeps an escort there and she films her clientele.”

  “Ah, that makes sense,” Pope said. “Explains his leverage.” He thumbed through pieces of paper. “And this one is curious and his second purchase. By a company called Trinity Holdings. He purchased part of the old Nabisco plant in 1960, after the company moved out of the city.”