“Spit it out,” I said.
“Did Volchek give you the case files?”
“Yes. I’ve read most of it, whatever’s worth reading anyway.”
“Anything in there about the witness, the kind of deal he made?”
I knew where Harry was going with this.
“You mean why he only gave up Volchek for Mario’s murder? I know. I’ve had the same thought myself. I tried asking Volchek about it. He said something about Little Benny still having some loyalty. I got the impression Little Benny didn’t want to implicate his fellow soldiers, that he was still loyal to his comrades even though he was putting his boss in the frame. Doesn’t make much sense to me, either. Little Benny told the FBI enough to get himself killed, but not enough to buy his way out of jail.”
He nodded and sucked down the last finger of whiskey. Put the bottle back in a drawer and began fixing coffee. Somehow the physical routine of making coffee allowed him to think better. I knew not to interrupt him, to let him work it through in his mind. He would tell me when he was ready.
“You ever heard of the Penditi?” asked Harry.
My mother was Italian; my oldest friend was head of the New York Mafia. Of course I’d heard of them.
“Sure, the
repenters
. That’s what the Sicilian police called them. They were hit men and bagmen. They got caught and they testified against the Mafia. Every one of them. What’s your point, Harry?”
“As far as I know, the Penditi were some of the toughest men in the world. Ruthless killers. Even
they
gave up their organizations. I guess what I’m saying is there has to be a damn good reason why Little Benny is keeping his mouth shut about the rest of his gang.”
* * *
The coffee machine began gurgling its fanfare, and Harry poured us both a big mug each. I thought then how lucky I was to have befriended Harry and how lucky the men were who served under him in Vietnam. The man was smart, a leader, and even now, in his sixties, nothing seemed to frighten him.
“So are you going to tell me what you’ve got planned?” said Harry.
“I’ve got a friend who can help me find her and get her out. It’s probably best if you don’t know anything about that. I’ll need to contact him before we meet face-to-face. This might get messy, so I don’t want anything traced back to you. This is the kinda guy who has his phones tapped. I can’t call him from here. But there is something I need you to do for me. I need a few pieces of equipment. All I need is for you to pick them up and drop them somewhere in the building. Maybe the disabled john on this floor. Hide them somewhere no one will look. There’s no bathroom on the nineteenth. I’ll go down a floor and use the one on this level. It’s just one big room, no stalls. It’s perfect. It’s the closest bathroom, and the Russians will wait outside. They won’t follow me in if there are no stalls. I’ll write you up a list of what I need and where you can get it. It’s best if you keep your involvement limited, Harry. Whoever is holding Amy isn’t likely to hand her over without a struggle.”
Harry rubbed his head. “So this guy who’s going to help you, how are you going to meet him without Volchek finding out?” said Harry.
“I can’t,” I said, “but I think I’ve found a way to convince the Russians to take me to
him.
”
The window rattled in its frame, shaken by the rising wind. Harry sat down in his favorite chair, an old wooden-framed swivel chair. The chair reminded me of Harry: old, worn, solid.
The second screw landed on Harry’s desk and danced around before rolling to a stop.
Harry took off his glasses and pinched the top of his nose. That was Harry’s other tell.
“I just don’t like it. Something stinks,” said Harry.
He sighed and said, “No matter what you do, they’re going to kill you and Amy. This bullshit about letting you take the fall for blowing up a witness—if you play their game, they’ll make sure you don’t survive to tell anyone what really happened. They can’t risk it.”
I concentrated on the last screw.
“But you already thought of that,” said Harry.
Nodding, I tilted the last screwhead into the tip of the blade and lifted it clear of the housing.
Harry pulled up a chair next to mine. We hunched over the lamp light and waited nervously. I gripped the detonator casing gently and took my time prying it apart.
It separated.
My fingers trembled, but I didn’t drop the thing. I placed the two pieces of plastic casing open-end up beside each other on the desk.
At that moment, I had a plan. I’d been thinking it over for hours.
I knew I couldn’t trust the cops or the FBI, but once I had Amy back, Volchek no longer had a hold on me. I could take her and go, and I’d somehow figured out a way to do it—how I would con the Bratva into taking me to see Jimmy, who could track the cell number that I’d seen on Volchek’s phone so I could find Amy. Once she was safe, I could contact the FBI and tell them everything, help them nail Volchek and his whole crew, work out a deal.
That was the plan.
Everything changed when I saw the inside of that remote detonator.
Inside, there were no workings, no chip, no circuitry, no battery, nothing.
It was an empty plastic shell.
“A fake?” said Harry.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Arturas armed the bomb a few times. I’ve seen the red light flash on the detonator when the signal is activated. It’s this bulb on the tip of the control,” I said and pointed out the small bulb to Harry. That bulb would never light; it had no power source.
“When Arturas armed the bomb, I felt something vibrate.”
I folded my arms and swore.
“What the hell is this?” I said.
At that moment, more questions swirled around my mind: Why would Arturas carry two detonators—a dummy detonator and a real one?
“Something else is going on here. There’s another game being played. What do you think this means?” said Harry.
“This means two things,” I said. “First, there’s a real bomb and I’m wearing it. Second, there’s a real detonator; but I don’t have it. I didn’t know Arturas was carrying two detonators. If I’d known that, I would’ve lifted the real one,” I said, picking up the two empty halves of plastic casing.
I stopped, frozen.
Harry gasped as the same realization hit him, too.
“Move,” said Harry. “If they find that room empty, all they have to do is press a button…”
My fingers trembled as I slid the two halves of the casing together. The screws seemed to have shrunk since I’d removed them because I couldn’t manage to pick them up.
“Calm down. They haven’t discovered you’re missing yet,” said Harry.
“How do you know?”
He looked at me as if I was being stupid. I didn’t need Harry to spell it out. I was just making conversation, anything to take my mind off the situation so my fingers would begin to obey me again.
“I know, Harry. I know,” I said.
The first screw tinkled back into its housing, and I started to wind it back into place.
Harry paced the floor, mumbling again.
“So I get the gear and do the drop. What is it that you need and where am I going to get it?”
For a moment I held my breath and prayed as I watched the screw I’d just dropped hit the wooden floor and roll toward the vent. I lunged at the screw and just caught it before it fell into the abyss.
Breathing heavily, I managed to slot the screw home and began working it with the head of the blade.
“Write this down,” I said.
Harry picked up a pencil and began taking my dictation.
“I’ll need to make calls. So I can set things up with Jimmy and keep in touch with you. You’ll need to get me a pirate cell.”
“A what?”
“It’s a special kind of disposable cell phone. Don’t worry about this. You can get everything in one store. It’s a little place on Baker Street called AMPM Securities. Ask for Paul. When you get there, the store will look closed. It isn’t. Keep knocking until somebody opens the door and sticks a gun in your face. Tell Paul I sent you. He knows what this stuff is. I’ll need a secure property marker. Either SEDNA or Security Water. I don’t mind what brand. And I’ll need a small black light to read the trace.”
He looked confused.
“Don’t worry. Paul understands this. He’ll make sure I get the right stuff.”
Paul Greenbaugh ran AMPM Securities as a legit business by day and sold a lot of illegal items at night. For Paul, the night shift was the most profitable, and I’d bought equipment, most of it illegal, from Paul for a long time. Sometimes a hustler is only as good as his tools.
“Is that it? Come on, Eddie. Move it,” said Harry.
Harry paced to the window, opened it, and looked out over the city. Another rain shower was just dying out.
With the last screw in place, I checked the fake detonator and felt satisfied that Arturas wouldn’t know that I’d opened it. I’d hoped to disable the bomb or the detonator. But I hadn’t reckoned on lifting a fake detonator from Arturas. That gave me an idea.
“Harry, you got a camera on your phone?”
“Yeah,” he said, fetching his flip-top cell.
“Take a picture of the detonator. Tell Paul I need an exact match.”
Holding the remote between thumb and forefinger, Harry photographed the detonator from all angles, added it to his list, and read over it.
“You’ll have to go and get this stuff now. I’ll be making my move soon, and I’ll need that equipment. Baker Street isn’t too far. Do you think you can make it back in an hour?”
“I’ll do my best, but I don’t even know what half of this stuff is. I’m not even sure that I want to know,” said Harry.
Folding away the bomb and putting the jacket back on, I said, “Trust me, Harry. You
don’t
.”
There are times when you really need to listen to your instincts and times when you need to do whatever is necessary to get the job done. As I stood on the ledge again, outside Harry’s window, every instinct I possessed told me not to go out on that ledge, that I should go back inside and find another way because I couldn’t possibly make it this time.
I ignored my fear and thought again of Amy. Harry seemed to sense my thoughts.
“She’s one tough little girl, Eddie. They’ll keep her alive, and we’re going to get her back. I’m supposed to be taking a civil court tomorrow. It might take me a while, but I’ll get out and I’ll watch your back. I’ll be sitting alongside Judge Pike so I can keep an eye on you.”
Any words of gratitude that formed in my throat were choked before I could speak. I was so relieved, so glad, so very grateful that I had a friend like Harry.
“How—how are you going to do that?”
“I’ll tell Gabriella I’m evaluating her for an appellate judgeship. Never mind about that. I’m worried. There is so much that can go wrong here. I’m not leaving you alone in that court. I’ll be there.”
* * *
I nodded and took his hand again, remembering the first time I’d taken that big, soft hand in mine all those years ago.
When I shook Harry’s hand on that first occasion, I’d put my hustling days behind me—well, almost.
Harry released his grip and closed the window. As I moved farther out onto the ledge, I wondered if I would ever get to shake that big hand again. Harry was risking a lot for me. I thought part of it was Harry’s moral code, his honor and his loyalty to his friends. Somehow, though, I knew that Harry felt responsible for me. He was that type of man.
Thankfully, the rain had stopped, although it had put a fine, fresh sheen on the already slippery ledge. As I shuffled forward, my foot slipped and my left leg shot toward the ground.
In a split second, my body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I grabbed for the brickwork, but my fingers couldn’t catch hold. Sliding my other leg underneath me, I let myself drop, trying desperately to alter the angle of my fall. My chest gratefully slammed into the ledge, punching the air from my lungs. My hands scrabbled for grip as I felt myself slipping on the wet surface. My left leg swung out. My right hand caught an exposed brick, and I quickly twisted my torso, my back screaming with the effort as I managed to keep both legs from sweeping over the precipice.
I was pretty sure I’d torn some muscles in my lower back, but I’d clung on.
My breath came back just as my body shut down and refused to move. Lying facedown on the narrow ledge, I could see New York below me. The street seemed to have quieted. The cab line that caught the night court business no longer stretched to this side of the building. There was little traffic and no people except … except one. Even from my vantage point, I could see a thin, bald man standing under a streetlight, the orange glow catching his dome. He wore a dark overcoat, and he seemed to be waiting for something. I saw a white limo pull up on the other side of the street, the same limo that had picked me up earlier that morning. The man under the streetlight had to be Arturas. The rear passenger door of the limo opened and an enormous guy got out—Gregor. I thought about his wallet burning a hole in my pocket as I saw Gregor carrying a large suitcase. It looked identical to the suitcase upstairs in the reception room that had held the case files. I’d left that case with Victor and taken the files into the chambers office beside the reception room.
Under the streetlight I saw Gregor unlock the case and lift the lid just a little. Arturas quickly checked the contents before Gregor closed the case. Both men were then joined by a third man. He wore a navy blue uniform, and I could see a badge on his fat chest catching the streetlight. The fat guard that I’d seen in the lobby that morning.
The three of them waited. The surrounding buildings were largely office blocks that remained still and silent at this time of night. Two white vans turned into the street and parked behind the limo. Gregor gestured to the drivers, and the first van disappeared into the basement parking lot of the courthouse. The second stopped, and the driver opened the passenger door. Gregor wheeled the case around the van; then, two-handed, he lifted and heaved it onto the passenger seat. This was the man who had picked me up like a rag doll that morning. Whatever was in that case was damn heavy. He closed the door, and the van drove into the basement lot of the courthouse. Then Gregor, Arturas, and the fat guard stepped close to the wall, out of the glare of the streetlights. They were waiting for something. The limo remained parked. After a few minutes, two men came out of the basement lot on foot. I guessed they had been the van drivers. Both men sallied up to Gregor.