Blood Money (23 page)

“Nick, let’s go—we’re here.”

“Yeah, I know.” What he wanted to say was,
Too bad
. He wished the plane had crashed. But it would be unfair for him to wish the same fate on others. After all, it was his problem, not theirs— winning a fraudulent case by concealing a murder, ruining an innocent doctor by suborning perjury, becoming a coconspirator in Sean Riley’s murder, and turning his back on his oath to support and defend the law and protect the truth. Or, turning against his own innocent client, the widow Riley, and forcing a defense verdict by putting Donna Price on the stand.

Either way, he figured he was a dead man—disbarred, in prison,or physically dead—they were all the same. Any one of them meant the end to Nick, who had fought so hard to raise himself up from his unfortunate roots and into a noble profession. That is, unless he got to them first. He had to get to Silvio and Levin before they got to him. And that wouldn’t be an easy task.

Grace moved out of her seat in front of Shoes, who was blocking the aisle, waiting for Nick. Two men behind him, clearly annoyed, cursed in Russian. Shoes was happy to be the source of their displeasure since all the Commie bastards had done for the past five-and-a-half hours was to talk in Russian. He turned and gave them a toothy grin as he slid his middle finger down the bridge of his nose while Nick stepped out in front of him.

The airport was empty. All flights had been canceled. The threesome quickly walked past the locked duty-free shops and empty newsstands. The moving walkway hummed under their feet, doubling their speed as they raced toward the exit hoping that their ride was waiting as planned, despite the weather. Grace had a hard time keeping up. She was exhausted and moving as fast as she could with Nick pulling her along. All she could think of was a warm bed and some saltines to ease her nausea.

Shoes stayed purposely a few feet behind, looking straight ahead, listening to footsteps as they hastened and quickly closed in behind them. He smelled trouble. It was a natural, God-given instinct. He knew what was coming, and so did Nick. Neither
turned to face the Russians from the plane—that would have been a serious mistake. Instead Nick grabbed Grace’s arm.

“Jump,” he yelled, pulling her toward the low barrier separating the moving walkway from the rest of the corridor.

Grace hurled herself over the low steel wall, landing on her back, followed by Nick. Her purse flew from her arm and its contents scattered over the floor. She grabbed her bag as Nick yanked her up and into a dead run. Nick stumbled down the escalator, pulling Grace past the baggage claim. Neither looked back. The glass exit door slid open and the two charged into the snow, looking for any signs of life.

“Where’s security?” she yelled, brushing the blowing snow from her eyes.

“How the fuck should I know? Just keep running.” Nick held her hand and pulled her, sliding on the ice, unable to see in the blinding storm.

Grace held her side as she ran. “I can’t do this anymore,” she panted, slowing and stumbling.

“You have to, Grace—or you’ll be dead. Come on. They’re close. Keep up, Grace. Please.”

Blurry figures, barely visible in the blowing snow, closed in behind them. Grace fell and lay in the snow. Nick tried to pull her up, using both hands, but he slid. He had no leverage. “You’ve got to help me, Grace. Come on. You’re going to get us both killed.”

Suddenly she thought of her baby and was on her feet, running, looking for anything, anyone, preferably headlights from a police car. Nick tried to catch his breath. He hung his head and coughed, looking back for an instant, trying to locate the enemy. Suddenly one figure, the one farthest behind, leaped onto the back of the other and the two fell, rolling in the snow. Clouds of white flew into the air as they struggled. “Come on,” Grace yelled.

“Wait—one of them is Shoes,” Nick said pointing.

“So what? Let’s go!”

“We can’t leave him—you go—go, go!” he yelled.

“No—not without you.”

“I said get out of here.” He spun Grace around toward the exit road. “Go. I’ll catch up.”

She instinctively hugged him. “I love you,” she said and started to run in the knee-deep drifts. Her shoes were all but gone. Halffrozen, half-wet, they fell from her feet. She didn’t bother to try to pick them up. She simply stumbled and clawed her way toward the ice-covered road, barely visible in the blinding storm. She headed toward the streetlights, hoping that was the direction in which she’d find help.
I’ll never wish for snow again
, she thought as she tried to ignore her frozen, burning feet.

Nick strained to see what was happening in the fight behind them, but there was no movement. He was about three hundred yards from them. Both figures lay still in the snow. They were either badly injured or dead. He didn’t know which. But he had to find out. He couldn’t let Shoes freeze to death if he was still alive. Nick moved toward them, slowly and cautiously.

“Shoes!” he yelled. “Shoes, answer me.”

There was nothing, just silence as the snowed drifted over the still forms. When he was finally within ten feet of them, he noticed a thin red line staining the white ground. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should approach, and then decided he had to.

One of the bodies moved, groaning. Nick saw it was Shoes. He slid as he tried to pull Shoes up from under his arms. But Shoes was in good enough shape to get to his feet by himself.

“You OK?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yeah.” Shoes wiped the snow from his face. He had a small cut on his cheek but otherwise appeared intact. “Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

“What about him?” Nick asked.

“Fuck him—the bastard’s dead anyhow.”

Shoes rolled the portly body over on its back, exposing the thin, bloody line around the man’s throat where the nylon fishing line had cut through the flesh. “Can’t carry metal in airports,” he laughed. “Funny how this works just the same and nobody cares.”

“What about the other guy?”

“Dead, too. What is this—twenty questions?” Shoes protested. “It’s fuckin’ cold out here. Let’s move. Move!” Shoes started trotting ahead, pulling his coat collar up around his neck.

In the distance, headlights shone dimly through the relentless snow. Nick cautiously slowed his pace and squinted at the vehicle parked on the airport road. He shielded his eyes with his hand to get a better look.

“It’s our pickup,” shouted Shoes, who was at least twenty yards ahead. His voice was faint and muffled by the white blanket. He waved as he ran toward the car, passing Grace.

“How do you know?” she yelled. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She couldn’t feel her feet any longer. Her light coat was frozen around her neck. She didn’t think she could go much farther.

“Let’s go.” Nick tugged at her. “Let’s go. Come on.”

“How do you know?” she yelled, coughing while trudging forward as if on remote control. She wondered seriously if she could actually make it.
Dear God
,
please
, she thought.

“We don’t. But we have no choice,” Nick responded. “We’ll freeze to death out here, slowly. Or we’ll be shot and it’ll be quick. Take your pick.”

“Shot is better, I guess,” she yelled back, stumbling and scraping her way through a drift.

The three moved on toward the headlights, which now began to flash. Bright, dim, bright, dim. The vehicle began to slowly move toward them, crushing the snow drifts under its huge wheels. From its wide, powerful shape, it was clear that it wasn’t the black Chrysler that had brought them to the airport. And it certainly didn’t look like it belonged to DiCicco’s fleet either. Nick’s heart raced with apprehension as the headlights came closer. The vehicle stopped. A dark figure descended from the driver’s seat and quickly moved toward them.

Nick stopped, waiting to see what would happen before putting himself and Grace at the mercy of the figure. He held Grace
protectively around the waist, her eyes closed against the blowing snow. She was going limp in his grip, and he knew that she couldn’t take much more of the punishing cold. Shoes clawed ahead and then suddenly disappeared in a blowing drift. The dark figure moved quickly, and Nick watched as it located and then dragged Shoes into the vehicle. Nick stood frozen in the headlights, not knowing whether to run to or from the would-be rescuer or assassin. Then a voice rang out in the darkness.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Santa Claus?”

The raucous and obscene voice was music to Nick’s ears. He half dragged, half carried Grace to the waiting HumVee. The massive, dark figure, Billy Bonanno, better known as “Fatback,” swiftly lifted Grace into the truck. He put the HumVee into gear and began plowing through the blizzard as though it was a flurry.

“You all right?” he asked. “I thought youse was never comin’. I waited out here for four-and-a-half hours in dis fuckin’ tank.” He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out the Beretta and handed it to Shoes.

Shivering, Shoes kissed it and shoved it into his coat pocket.

The phone rang loudly as Nick put the key into the lock of the door to his condo. He made his way in the dark to the first telephone he could reach and quickly picked up the receiver.

“Hello.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly. His throat hurt, and he knew he was getting sick.

“Mr. Ceratto?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“This is Detective John Richie from the Pasadena Police Department.”

Nick’s heart raced for a moment, and then began to pound in his chest. He could hear it through the receiver which he held tightly to his ear. Had Price gone to the cops and charged them with breaking and entering?

“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly. “What can I do for you, Detective Richie?”

“Do you know a Ms. Jane Welles, a nurse?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Maybe I should have said
did
you know Ms. Welles?”

“What do you mean—did?”

“Ms. Welles is dead.”

“What?…But I just spoke with her about twelve hours ago.”

“I know. That’s why I’m calling you. Apparently you were one of the last people to see her alive. We found your subpoena in her purse along with your name and telephone number on it, et cetera, and instructions on her appearance in court, et cetera, and a copy of the affidavit of service, et cetera…”

“Will you please stop with the ‘et ceteras’?” Nick yelled into the phone. He paused. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I had a terrible flight and I just got home.”

“Yeah. That’s OK. I know about the big storm out your way. You’re lucky you got home at all.”

“Yes, Detective Richie, you’re right. You’re so right.” Nick shook his head. “Tell me, how did this happen? She was my star witness. I’ve got a case to try tomorrow, and I desperately needed her.”

“I guessed that was the case, or you wouldn’t have come all the way out here to serve her yourself.”

“Can you tell me what happened to her?”

“I can tell you what we know.”

Grace came up behind Nick and put her head on his shoulder, embracing him in the dark. It was warm and the dark comforted her now. She sensed something had gone wrong, and she knew it had to be with Donna Price.

“She was fatally stabbed in the parking lot behind the hospital. The coroner put her death at about eleven thirty p.m. our time. No weapon was found. Her body was a mess. Stab wounds in her neck, chest, arms, hands. Looks like she tried to fight off her attacker and lost. Her purse was found in the bushes behind her. Nurse’s ID was intact, and so were the papers you served her with. But her wallet was missing. There was no cash or other valuables found on her. Oh, yeah. So was her watch. You could tell she wore one by the white mark on her wrist. Looks like robbery was the motive. But I wanted to call you to tell you that your witness is gonna be a no show. And to ask you if you know anything about her that would target her as a victim. Other than the first conclusion most cops jump to.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, I know about the affinity cops have for conclusions, sometimes the wrong ones, or should I say most times? Well, Detective, I’ve got a long story to tell you. But I can’t right now. I’ve got a case I’ve got to try tomorrow.”

“You gonna try a case in a blizzard?”

“Judge Barnes doesn’t care if there’s an earthquake going on. This case will be tried, no matter what. “

“You Philadelphia lawyers are nuts, I swear,” Richie laughed.

“Yeah, I’ll call you later.” Nick hung up and turned to Grace, smoothing her wet hair. “She’s dead,” he said.

“I thought so. I’m so sorry for all this…”

“For what?” he whispered, studying the silhouette of her finefeatured face in the dimness.

“For finding her, for almost getting us killed, for getting her killed. I should have just stayed out of this.”

“Grace, you did what you had to do. You did what was right. Now I have to do what’s right. He rubbed the top of her head and kissed her on the cheek, and then moved to the nearest light switch.

Grace screamed simultaneously with the click of the switch. Nick instantly turned and saw a large figure sitting in the overstuffed chair. The man stared intently, blinking from the glare of the sudden light. He fondled an AK47 equipped with a silencer.