Authors: R.J. Ellory
‘And the problem with that?’ Klein asked.
‘The problem Victor, is that Walt Freiberg is not a man to stand back. He’s right in there already if I know Walt. He’s right in there figurin’ out every angle on this thing, and if he believes for a moment that we had anything to do with Lenny’s hit then I guarantee there’s going to be a war.’
There was silence amongst the gathering.
‘A war we don’t want,’ Neumann continued. ‘Bernstein may
be in a vulnerable position, but right now we cannot deal with a war. We are not set up to deal with the costs and losses of such a thing. And there is another factor.’ Neumann paused and looked at Marcus.
Marcus nodded.
‘Lenny’s son has come into the picture.’
‘You what?’ Klein asked. ‘Lenny’s son? Who the fuck is that?’ Neumann leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the desk. ‘We don’t know. Right now all we know is that Lenny’s son has come to New York, and from some inside track we think he’s come up from Miami. We don’t know who he is, we know nothing about his history or connections. For all we know he could have his own crew down south who are set to come and clean the slate for his father if a wrong step is taken. With Lenny’s shooting there appears to be a power vacuum. Freiberg could have stepped in, may very well have done so, but we now have this unpredictable factor to contend with.’
There was silence from the gathered men.
‘Which leaves us in a situation of making a decision,’ Neumann said. He cleared his throat, reached for a glass of water on the desk ahead of him and took a sip. ‘We have to decide whether to go with the plan Lenny Bernstein was proposing.’
‘Which was?’ Henry Kossoff asked.
‘Four actions, simultaneous—’ Neumann stated.
‘The hits I was working on?’ Victor Klein asked.
‘The very same,’ Neumann said.
‘And what do we get from this?’ Ray Dietz asked.
Neumann nodded his head. ‘It’s real simple. We go through with this thing then we minimize any suspicion Walt Freiberg may have about our involvement in the shooting of Lenny Bernstein. We avoid any possibility of Lenny’s son bringing people from Miami into a war we don’t want. We all make some money and we wind up with Lenny’s territory.’
‘Seems a good deal to me,’ Dietz said.
‘Okay, there it is,’ Neumann said. ‘We need a majority on this, whichever way it goes.’ He scanned the faces. ‘Okay . . . yes for the Bernstein deal, no for anything else.’
The vote was unanimous. All of them – Ray Dietz, Victor Klein, Karl Merrett, Lester McKee, Maurice Rydell, Henry Kossoff, Albert Reiff – all of them voted for the Bernstein deal.
‘So there we have it,’ Neumann said. ‘Victor is going to get some details together on some places we’ve been looking at, and myself and Mr Marcus are going to have a meeting with Walt Freiberg and straighten out any changes as a result of what has happened with Lenny. Then we’re going to get with Bernstein’s people and go through this thing until we got it nailed down tight. We have days, not weeks, but we’ve done this kind of shit before and we’re all still here to tell the tale, right?’
A chorus of agreements.
‘So get the fuck out of here,’ Neumann said. ‘Go kiss your wives and fuck your girlfriends, buy presents for the kids. Get whatever shit together you need to ’cause we’ve got a busy Christmas ahead of us.’
The men rose from their chairs, talking amongst themselves, draining glasses, laughing once more, and in twos and threes they filed out of the warehouse and started down the fire escape to the car lot below.
Neumann walked across the room just as Ray Dietz was leaving and touched his arm. He indicated back towards Ben Marcus. Ray Dietz turned.
‘Ray,’ Marcus said. ‘Come and speak with me.’
Ray Dietz walked towards the desk and sat down.
Sol Neumann sat beside him, almost between him and Ben Marcus. Dietz was struck with the impression that it was always Sol’s words, but somehow they were generated and driven by Ben Marcus.
‘So here’s where we stand on this,’ Neumann started. ‘Only people who know about the thing that happened to Lenny are me, Mr Marcus, Henry Kossoff and yourself. Only thing Henry knows is that you were s’posed to pay this McCaffrey guy off, he didn’t know any details. I’m lost on this one Ray, I really am. Tell me exactly what happened.’
‘We went to the meeting,’ Dietz said. He glanced nervously at Ben Marcus. He found it disturbing talking to Neumann, knowing that really he was speaking to Ben Marcus. ‘We went to pay McCaffrey the balance and he wasn’t there. He didn’t show. Nothing more than that.’
‘Someone would have to have a pretty good reason not to show up and collect fifty grand, don’tcha think?’
‘Fuck knows, Sol. I don’t know what the hell happened.’
‘You knew him from where?’
‘From Attica a few years back. We shared a cell together.’
‘And you rated him?’ Neumann asked.
‘Sure I did. McCaffrey and I were close. You spend that much time in a room with someone you either kill each other or wind up like brothers. I wouldn’t have suggested him for this thing if I didn’t figure he could do it.’
‘He did it, no question about that,’ Neumann said. ‘Didn’t do all that was needed, but we don’t know exactly what happened in that liquor store . . . we can’t make a judgement. Only thing we know for sure is that he’s done a runner.’
‘He has family,’ Marcus said, the second time he’d spoken since the others had left the room.
‘A brother and a sister here in New York,’ Dietz replied.
‘You know where they live?’
‘Can find them easy enough.’
‘So go find them,’ Marcus said. ‘See if they can’t help you find out where this guy is. I cannot have him running around New York with a .38 all spooked and upset. I need him found and I need him dead.’
Dietz nodded. ‘I think I should have gone to the pay-off alone. I think he must have seen Henry with me and got frightened.’
‘Sure as shit he was frightened . . . bastard probably knew Henry was going to kill him,’ Neumann said.
Marcus raised his hand. ‘Now it doesn’t matter. Turning this thing back and forth serves no purpose. I need him found Ray . . . take Albert, Karl, whoever you want. Victor needs a little time to work on some things with these sites. I need a day or two to sort things out with Freiberg before we have a full meeting of both crews. Get these people found, this brother and sister, see if they know where your guy is hiding. I need him found Ray, I need McCaffrey found and dead within twenty-four hours, okay?’
‘I’ll sort it out,’ Dietz said, and started to rise.
‘One other thing,’ Neumann added.
Dietz sat down again, looked at Ben Marcus, back to Sol Neumann.
‘You probably know more about Bernstein’s people than anyone here.’
‘Jesus, that was twenty, thirty years ago Sol. I knew Garrett
Sawyer, met his wife a couple of times. Think she had a sister that went out with Lenny. You’re talking history, real history.’
‘Lenny have a son you were aware of?’ Neumann asked.
Dietz shook his head. ‘Maybe he did, I don’t know. Maybe he had a son with this girl, Evelyn Sawyer’s sister; Garrett never spoke to me about it. Jesus, I did a couple of things with the guy. We used to go out drinking every once in a while. Later, when the territories separated we went different ways. He killed himself more than twenty years ago.’
Sol Neumann nodded, was silent for a moment. ‘And Walt Freiberg?’ he asked. ‘You know much about Walt Freiberg?’
Dietz shrugged. ‘By reputation, nothing else.’
‘You think he’s a talker?’
Dietz shook his head and smiled. ‘Freiberg? Christ, no. From what I’ve heard Lenny had Walt Freiberg on a short leash ’cause the guy was so fucking dangerous.’
‘So you think the right decision was made today?’
Dietz nodded. ‘No question about it. Irrespective of whether or not Lenny has a son from Miami, and whether or not he has a crew he can bring here, I sure as fuck wouldn’t want to go to war with Walt Freiberg.’
Sol Neumann smiled. ‘Okay . . . so you have to sort this thing out with your boy McCaffrey. He came to us on your recommendation Ray. You said he could do the hit on Lenny, and he was reliable. Well, he’s done a runner, and
you
have to find him and kill him, okay?’
‘I’ll find him,’ Dietz said.
‘I know you will Ray, I know you will. Stay in touch, let us know what’s happening – and get it straightened out because shit is going to happen fast once we’ve met with Freiberg.’
Dietz rose from the chair and straightened his jacket. ‘I’ll take care of everything,’ he said. He glanced across at Marcus, smiled nervously, nodded his head deferentially. ‘I’ll find him and straighten everything out.’
Ben Marcus raised his hand in acknowledgement.
Ray Dietz turned and crossed the room to the stairs.
‘Sonny!’ Walt exclaimed from ten yards down the sidewalk.
Harper felt cold and loose inside. What could he say? How do you ask someone not to do something like that? He smiled, stood there as Walt Freiberg hurried towards him. Cathy stood patiently, her hand through Harper’s arm. To an observer they perhaps looked like a young couple awaiting a family friend, a shopping trip, perhaps a theater matinee.
Cathy stepped forward and greeted Walt. She kissed him on the cheek.
Walt reached out and took both of Harper’s hands. He gripped tightly, looked directly at him, said, ‘Good to see you, John, really good to see you. You look better today, a little less ragged around the edges.’
Harper smiled. Looked better yes, felt better no. He said nothing.
Freiberg released Harper’s hands. ‘I checked on Edward,’ he said. ‘His vital signs are a little stronger . . . they feel optimistic that he might make a fight of this. He’s a tough man, your father, a very tough man. If anyone can make it through such a thing it will be him.’
Harper, once again, said nothing. Walt Freiberg was speaking of someone that was as much a stranger as Cathy Hollander, more so in fact. Cathy he had spoken to, held at least two or three conversations with – awkward, ever present his awareness of how
charged
he felt around her – but nevertheless they had exchanged words. Edward Bernstein was a dying man in St Vincent’s Hospital, a man who’d shared only one word with him in his life, the one word he could remember, if in fact he’d said anything at all.
Leave
.
Harper looked away. A knot of unidentifiable emotion constricted his throat. Anger, confusion, grief, emptiness? He didn’t know. Safer not to know perhaps.
‘So we are out together,’ Walt said. ‘I figured we should get some things for John, seeing as how he may be here for a little while—’
Harper frowned. ‘A little while? What d’you mean?’
‘A few days perhaps.’ Walt looked concerned. ‘To see how he is doing, John. To stay a little while and make sure that he has all the support he needs.’
Harper laughed. It sounded remarkably incongruous. He was amazed that anyone could speak of being there to support a father who had left a child alone, disappeared for more than thirty years, turned up seventy years old and shot, turned up in such a manner as to wreak havoc in other peoples’ lives, people he had evidently cared little for. ‘I don’t know that I’m going to stay, Walt. More I think about it the more it makes sense to go back to Miami.’
‘No,’ Cathy Hollander said. ‘You can’t go back to Miami.’
Walt was shaking his head. ‘You should stay here, John, seriously you should, at least until we have a better idea of how Edward is doing.’
Cathy stepped closer and touched Harper’s arm. ‘We want you to stay,’ she said. ‘Me and Walt, we really want you to stay, at least a few days more.’
Harper shook his head. ‘I don’t know . . . I just don’t know . . .’
‘I understand,’ Walt said. He raised his hands, palms facing Harper. ‘I understand something, I think, at least something of how you might be feeling.’
‘Do you, Walt? Do you think you have even the faintest clue about what might be going on in my head?’
‘No confrontations, John, no confrontations. We don’t do confrontations here. This is all for another time, another day. I had Cathy come over and get you simply because I wanted to get a few things for you, that was all. I don’t want you to read anything into this. It’s not complicated. Your father and I have been friends and business partners all these years. Evelyn told you Edward was dead. I’ve carried that lie for thirty years or more. After your mother died I wanted to make sure you were okay. I felt a sense of duty.’ Walt smiled, shook his head. ‘Don’t
ask me why, John. Maybe because I never had kids of my own. I wanted to make sure you were okay, so for a little while I kept an eye on you the only way I could. I couldn’t tell Evelyn what to say to you. Who the hell was I? I was just another of Edward’s no-good friends.’
Walt stepped forward and took Harper’s arm. He led him to the edge of the sidewalk away from the road, out of the path of other people who were walking back and forth.
‘I was never your father,’ he went on. ‘I never tried to be anything other than a friend to you. Evelyn didn’t want me coming around, and after a while it seemed pointless. I didn’t want to see you get caught in the middle of some imagined upset she had with me. I never did anything to harm her. I never said anything that was designed to be anything other than helpful, but she had her reasons, and who was I to question them? When you were old enough to recognize that everything she said wasn’t the gospel truth I left. I didn’t want to, it made me feel bad, but I left. I had a life to get on with as well. I was young then, younger than you are now, and there were things I needed to do, people I had to deal with. I did what I felt was the right thing, and when I felt you could deal with things yourself I let it all go.’
Walt Freiberg paused to catch his breath. It was bitterly cold.
‘So it is what it is. She told you your father was dead. I didn’t agree with her, but Evelyn Sawyer was never a woman to wait for anyone’s agreement, right?’ Walt smiled, squeezed Harper’s arm. ‘Right, John?’
Harper nodded.
‘So it went the way it went. And then when Edward was shot and I figured he might not make it I felt the very least I could do was make her call you. Whether that was right or wrong I don’t know, and now it’s too late to make a judgement. The call was made. I insisted she tell you. If she’d had her way you’d still be in Florida none the wiser. Tell me I made the wrong decision. What can I do?’