No Feign No Gain

by Carrie Ann Knox

But knowing I was surely being watched, and possibly had been for a while, I had taken some precautions.

  My first stop, a visit to Joe’s Diner, had included a special request with my order. Sayid asked no questions when I slipped him a piece of chalk and a scrap of paper with a Dave Matthews song title. A shy nod told me he was in on the routine. I knew the alarming phrase would be written on the side of the diner’s brick facade as soon as I took off.

  All that was left to do was wait until dark. And hope the message would be seen soon, before I lost my mind.

  After what seemed like an eternity, a faint tap sounded from one of the tall, dark office windows. I scanned the wall until I found Lucas's face, partially obscured by a dark beard and green trucker’s hat, peering in the window.

  I felt my whole body sigh in relief as I yanked open the window and he clambered in. Lucas will know what to do.

  He straightened up and surveyed the room. “Where’s Mac?”

  “Sloan’s not here. That’s why I called you.”

  “Oh.” A crooked grin swept across his face. “Interesting.” His eyes took me in for the first time, strangely contemplative. “I thought it was kinda weird she would send me a message like that. But it was you . . . ” He trailed off, lost in thought.

  I blinked back, confused and anxious. “What are you talking about? I sent you that message so you would know it was serious. And urgent. When the World Ends.”

  “Yeah.” His smile didn’t fade as he continued to gaze at me curiously. “That’s right.” The corners of his mouth were edged with humor. “And do you even know what that song is about?”

  Frustrated we were off-track, I paused to fly through a few lyrics in my head. Quickly a blush crept into my face. Oh. It’s very dirty.

  Lucas laughed, clearly reading my reaction.

  His response to such a signal was intriguing, but had no time to parse it. I shook my head to refocus. “That’s not what I meant,” I snapped sternly. “Next time I’ll be more careful. But I need your help.” I hoped my serious expression would bring him back. “Sloan’s been kidnapped.”

  The grin slid off his face instantly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, more like taken hostage. Mob men, I guess. Three of them showed up at the house and said they’d taken her.”

  “Kidnapped?” Fury reddened his face. “What happened to the security? They were supposed to have you covered at all times. They swore.” His voice lowered as he grumbled, more to himself. “Knew I shouldn’t have trusted them to take care of it.”

  “They were there,” I argued. “They were always around. They only left us alone for a few minutes to take care of Levi.”

  “Levi! Who the heck is Levi?” His angry gaze snapped to my face. “Is he another mobster you two were chasing, despite all my objections?”

  I shook my head. “No, he was just the mailman.”

  “Oh, I heard about him. Skulking around.”

  “He had been . . . friendly.” I hung my head a little, not wanting to get into it. “But it looks like he might’ve been working with those guys, too, so yeah. Maybe he was another mobster. And just using us. Or me, rather.”

  Lucas's arms flexed powerfully as his fists clenched. He took a deep breath and let it out before speaking again, calmly this time. “Okay. And?”

  “And,” I said, trying to ignore his fury, “when we realized he might not be who we thought, the team swarmed in. I guess they have him, or are questioning him or something. In the meantime some mobsters snuck into the house and took Sloan. Everyone was looking the other way.”

  “How do you know that?” Lucas sounded frantic again. “And why am I just hearing about all this? Why hasn’t the team contacted me?”

  “They don’t know yet.” I waited a second, watching Lucas freeze and stare at me, blinking. “Only I know. And now you. And we have to keep it that way.”

  Lucas's strong jaw flexed and then bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay.” He stepped to the nearest armchair and sat absently. His voice was more calm when he looked up at me, direct, and finally spoke again. “Start from the beginning.”

  I gave up on our stubborn secretiveness and filled him in on each step of the mess. Every detail I could remember from the last twenty-four hours, from figuring out Grant’s duplicitous cooperation with the mafia to learning my new objective from that same ring of mobsters: lying, and lying big. In order to free the rest of the bad guys.

  Lucas let out a long breath, when I finished my story. Relieved to have the whole thing out there, finally, I slid back in my seat and waited for him to process. It was a lot, I knew. But Lucas would have the answer.

  After what seemed like hours, he finally met my eyes again. Only his were not the shining beacons of hope I was looking for. They were glazed. Dulled and unfocused with concern. “I’ll be honest,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure how to get you out of this one. Not yet, anyway.”

  My stomach sank. Surely he’s just being modest. He would have to think it over. Mull his plan.

  Because if not him . . . who?

  “I guess we could try to track her down,” he mused. “Get to them before you’re supposed to make your move. We won’t have long, but maybe. I can make some calls.”

  “You can’t,” I retorted, panicked at the idea. “If they find out the authorities are involved at all, she could get hurt.”

  “Don’t worry, I have back-channels. They won’t have to know.” His expression was pained. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think the easy way is an option. Just getting them all set free, that can’t happen. I can’t help with that. Not after all that’s gone into it. This case had finally made it all the way to the top.” His eyes blazed with frustration. “We got ‘em.”

  All the way to the top. His words bounced around in my head, trying to get my attention. Something wasn’t right. I thought back to the man’s words in that steamy bathroom. His evil laugh at the mention of his boss.

  “About that,” I said hesitantly. “I thought Salvatore was sort of in charge. And that’s why the FBI finally brought everything down at once, because they got to the top guy. Like you said.”

  “That’s right. The boss was the real target. Been after him for years.” He paused and looked at me carefully. “Why?”

  “Well, this guy, that took Sloan,” I said, cringing as I tried to block the image, “he mentioned something about Salvatore not actually being the boss.”

  “He said that?” His brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes at me, moving closer. “What were his exact words?”

  I scrambled back in my memory, hesitant to fully replay the dark scene. “Trust me, Sal knows . . . who the big cheese is?”

  Lucas’s eyes lit up for a split second before his brow furrowed further, now an impossible clench. “So did he happen to say who that big cheese might be?”

  The man’s harsh chuckle at the suggestion that Sal was his boss played in my head again. “I . . . definitely got the impression he was really the one in charge.”

  Lucas froze and stared back silently, his face stoic. I could see the wheels grinding in his head. His gaze turned inward.

  After a long moment, he pulled out his phone and flipped through numerous photos before handing it to me. “Tell me . . . is this the guy?”

  I knew as soon as I looked down that it was him. I would never forget that pock-marked face. I nodded solemnly. “Who is that?”

  “That’s Vincent Tartalano.” Lucas took another deep breath. “And he’s been dead for over two years.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  After that I sat alone for a bit, just watching. Head spinning. Trying to piece things together while Lucas barked cryptically into the phone, one abrupt call after another. It turned out that Vincent, better known as Vinny—the man I had chatted with in the locked bathroom earlier—was the true original head of the crime
family. The main man.

  Up until he was presumed dead in an explosion two years before.

  Witnesses had seen him heading into the building just before the blast. The authorities considered it fortuitous timing for the local mob. They had been closing in on Vinny and his gang, with an arrest planned within days. It would bring down the entire operation, starting with the head for once. And then—BOOM.

  After that, the case had come to a grinding halt and everyone had to regroup. Everything had rested on Vinny and his inner circle, all obliterated by the blast. They would have to inch their way up again, one lowly mobster at a time. Any moves on a lower-level guy before the timing was right could result in the whole thing going dark, key people disappearing and evidence moved or destroyed. So they resumed their patience and started again, this time prominent local businessman Salvatore squarely in their sights as their assumed new leader.

  After the revelation of my encounter, however, the new working theory was that Vinny had still been pulling the strings all along. He had operated from a distance, all but his closest associates believing him dead after the assasination attempt. And once the indictments had started to fly, he had painfully seized Sal’s appendage as a warning for him to keep quiet. Vinny had wanted to stay dead, to continue in the shadows, no matter what.

  But he took the chance to come out of hiding once he saw an opening. An opportunity to undo all the damage and reemerge alive and on top, all turncoats and informants publicly outed. The feds’ case against his people would be shattered, the results of all their years of hard work useless in a court of law as public trust in the intel and confessions that made up their case was destroyed. And I, apparently, had been the linchpin of that entire plan.

  Finally Lucas stopped his pacing and put down his phone. He turned to stare at me a long minute, still saying nothing. I let him think, my own mind whirling.

  “Okay,” Lucas said finally, “we have a plan.” He moved to sit in the other chair and faced me, solemn. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  ***

  It was insane. They had to be crazy, all of them. Whoever they were.

  They wanted me to just give in. Do what the mobsters said. Follow orders, lie to the police about everything. And get Sloan back as reward. Easy, peasy.

  “Is this really the best way,” I said, trying to hide the skepticism threatening my voice, “just giving them what they want? Won’t it ruin everything?”

  Lucas nodded. “It does jeopardize the case, I’ll admit. But it doesn’t ruin it. With time, we should be able to roll everything back once we get what we want.”

  “Which is what? Certainly it’s not just Sloan they’re willing to do this for.”

  “No,” he replied, his gaze steady. “They’re not that charitable. Because of you, we know we were never really finished anyway. And now we can truly chop off the head of the monster. Vinny is the real goal here, he always was. Those guys are downright drooling for him.”

  “The feds?” I took a stab, trying to to finally pierce some of his mystery. “Like you?”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not exactly . . . official. But yeah.”

  Still unclear. “Okay.” I pondered his plan. “Two birds with one stone, then. As long as it helps, I guess.” I looked back at him hopefully. “So it’s just a setup, then? The police will know it’s all a fake, that I’m just doing this to help?”

  Lucas's lips tightened as he met my eyes. He hesitated. “I’ll have some guys in the background who will know the whole story. Some feds’ll be in on it. But the local police department can’t be read in on this. There’s no telling where the leaks are, and we suspect many. It’s just too dangerous.”

  I looked away, my hopes for playing the hero rather than the fool vanishing. I would have to be the enemy here. No way around it.

  “So,” I mused, “I’m supposed to march into the police station and tell them I lied—”

  “Both of you lied,” Lucas interrupted. “You and Sloan.”

  “Right,” I continued acidly. “Tell them we lied about everything that happened. The tapes of Carolyn Evans admitting she paid a drug dealer to get rid of her husband. I’m supposed to say that we, what, doctored them? That it was all faked?”

  “Faked and manipulated.” He looked away, rubbing his hands absently. “Trying to frame all of them. You tell them that, Mrs. Evans’s plea deal gets rescinded, charges dropped. Her testimony is then rendered worthless because she will no doubt recant. So the guy she paid to do the deed then walks. And his testimony against all sorts of mob guys is also negated.”

  “And on and on, back up the chain,” I said, feeling weary just thinking about it. “I get it. But what I don’t get is how I’m supposed to go on after that. Will they be able to keep it quiet? Keep my name out of it?”

  He glanced up before averting his eyes again. “I’m afraid not.”

  I took a deep breath, finally grasping the full reality. Not only would I have to fake my way through this, but I would be announcing myself for all the world as an unbelievable liar and scammer. I was going to be infamous. Ignominious. I was finished here.

  Possibly finished everywhere.

  “Just remember,” Lucas said, interrupting my depressing spiral of dark thoughts, “it’s not forever. The truth will come out eventually. I can make sure your real story gets told.”

  “But then that’s my story around here. I’ll never just be me. I’ll be the girl who let the mobsters free, hoping they would catch them all again. Some people may never even get the whole story. If this even all works as you say.”

  I lowered my head, steeling myself a long moment before facing him again. “But I guess that’s better than all the alternatives.” I raised my chin a little higher, displaying confidence I didn’t feel. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

  It wouldn’t help to whine about it. I didn’t have a choice. My friend’s life was on the line, partially my fault. And in the end, greater justice would be done.

  Just maybe not for my life.

  “One more thing,” Lucas said, drawing out his words. “You can’t just go into the police station to do this.”

  He stared at me closely, waiting. I immediately tensed up, sensing his reluctance. Clearly there was more. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “It’s too risky,” he continued, holding my gaze. “We can’t have you being torn apart by questions the moment you try to tell your story. It would only slow things down, and the whole situation could easily fall apart. I’m sure you would agree.”

  I shook my head, trying to understand. “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying,” he said, reluctance returned, “unfortunately, they think that to make it work you’ll need to do something a little more . . . public. Very public, in fact.”

  So much for keeping my head down.

  ***

  Devastation. Pure, utter devastation.

  It was the only way to describe what was happening. What I was doing in front of that crowd. The swelling, now-livid crowd threatening to turn into a riot on me.

  I looked out at the growing horde. Their anger mixed with fearfulness, confusion, desperation, all directed at me. It played on every face staring slack-jawed at me behind the podium, including the sizable core of black and gold police uniforms, eyes narrowed with disgust as they watched my future unraveling. I had no disguise today, no way to hide in the shadows. Their ire was laser-focused on me. The real me.

  I took a deep breath and refocused on the prepared words on the page, leaning toward the microphone again. I tried to make sure my face expressed the appropriate fake remorse as I wrapped up my monologue. “Again, I apologize to the good people of this city for my part in this dangerous ruse. Things got out of hand, and I truly regret how many others were affected by our abominable lies.” My voice wavered as I s
printed toward the finish line. “I hope to help to clear this up as quickly as possible and assist in any way I can. Thank you.”

  I abruptly turned from the podium, more than ready to put distance between myself and all those hateful eyes. The crowd itself stood blinking at each other, stunned, as I rushed from the makeshift stage. The murmuring turned up a notch and some raised voices began to hurl insults behind me, rapidly becoming unintelligible as they blended into a stew of hate. The media at the fringes, however, were ecstatic. They immediately pounced.

  Fortunately, so did my security team. A swarm of dark-clad men appeared from all sides, rapidly forming a ring that led me down the courthouse steps as quickly as my shaking legs would carry me. The reporters followed, shouting questions and shoving their mics, trying to cut through the protective muscle. Once again I ignored them all, keeping my head low. Only this time I was the villain of their stories. The questions fired at me were now accusing, full of barely-veiled outrage. Daring me to speak.

  They chased us to the dark vehicle waiting at the curb. I climbed in and hung my head in shame as we sped away, playing into the act. Despite my urge to scream that it was all a sham, I would have to feign humiliation for a while. Fake profound remorse. We had to make them all believe, for as long as it took to do what had to be done.

  I sighed with relief as we sped through downtown and the crowds receded behind us, a trail of matching vehicles following with the rest of the men.

  Benton was watching me closely in the rearview mirror. “You okay? Heard you did pretty good out there.”

  I sank back in my seat, exhausted. “Sure hope you guys are right about this, about the press conference. Because that was brutal.”

  “You just wait. Brutal hasn’t even started yet. You’ll need to prepare yourself for the stories they’ll write about you.” He eyed me again and flicked his eyebrows up knowingly. “Or better yet, don’t. I think maybe no contact with the outside world for a while. Won’t do you any good, trust me.”

  I knew he was right. I wouldn’t be able to handle the things they would say. The meanness that would infuse all the stories. The glee with which they would denounce me and what I had done to the city. To the police. To justice itself. And they would be right about all of it. According to the version of reality I was giving them, anyway.