Dirty Deeds (11 page)

He smiled and nodded at Keane, who motioned for me to get into the backseat.

I was in the middle between the two FBI agents and Keane went to the front passenger seat, turning around and smiling.

“I’m not as dumb as I look, am I?” Keane said.

“Thankfully. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” I held up the handcuffs. “Are these really necessary? Something isn’t kosher about this. Where are the FBI-issue cars? Why is the driver working with you clowns?”

“All will be revealed,” Keane said. He glanced at the man on my left and the agent took out a key and uncuffed me. I rubbed my wrists even though they didn’t hurt. It seemed like the proper thing to do.

“How long has the FBI been infiltrating car services? Or do you just own the driver?” I asked. When the driver glanced back at me I wanted to lunge up and knock his head off. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time: you’re fired.”

“When we found out you were back in town we made an arrangement with the car service,” Keane said.

“He just lost my business.”

Keane smiled. “When the word hits the street he had to help us he’ll be out of business. An outfit like his relies on getting things done for bad people, no matter what it is.”

I thought of the guy in the trunk but wisely kept my mouth shut.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“To a secluded spot where we can talk. Just the two of us,” Keane said.

“I’ve already spent too much time with you this week. Unless we’re going to see another ballgame.” I sat back and tried to calm my nerves. This had been an intense afternoon so far. I needed to not panic and figure out what was going on.

How much did Keane actually know? He was acting like he’d figured it all out. He was smiling too much, but it could be a bluff.

I needed to take it for a bluff and make this as pleasantly hard as I could for Keane. He wasn’t getting anything out of me except my dinner order if it lasted too long.

We sat in silence for awhile and I purposely turned my head and stared out the tinted window. When we drove over to Staten Island I didn’t make a sound. I wasn’t going to ask where we were going because I wouldn’t get an answer and he’d know I was getting antsy.

The car stopped a few minutes later in the middle of a block of typical Staten Island houses, all cramped together and looking the same except for the house paint and the cars in the driveways. The house next to the car was vacant and it looked like construction was underway.

The agents got out and I followed. The two goons stayed behind with the driver – he was still fired in my book – as Keane led me inside the unfinished garage and through a door.

We were in the unfinished kitchen, saws and hammer in sawdust on the counters.

“Are you thinking of buying this place? Want my opinion?” I asked.

“I couldn’t afford this cramped box on my salary. You know what they want for them?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I could never live this close to my neighbors. I’d end up trying to buy the block so I could store baseball cards.

“I’m guessing there’s a reason we’re here,” I said. I wiped off a stepladder and sat down. I looked around, hoping there was something cold to drink and no one hiding anywhere. I didn’t take Keane for a guy who’d bring me out to a place to put a bullet in my head, but you never wanted to be wrong and dead.

“I need to know what you know about Chenzo and his dead son,” Keane said. He went right to the point, which I appreciated.

I also knew he thought the kid was dead. He hadn’t said it ironically or to see if I knew he was still alive. He genuinely thought the body on the beach was Little Chenzo.

“I know about as much as you do. It has nothing to do with me,” I said.

“I disagree. Word on the street is he’s looking for you, and it has everything to do with his dead son. In fact, I know the two monsters you were walking with. We’ve been watching them for months. We have enough to lock them both away and throw away the key,” Keane said.

“It would’ve been helpful if you’d already done it. I guess once they take turns beating me into bloody pulp you’ll get around to it,” I said.

“There’s a much bigger picture here, James. You help us put away Chenzo and I won’t be so hard on you when we finally catch you doing whatever it is you do. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

I shook my head. “You know if I had something juicy, especially on Chenzo, I’d give it over. Self-preservation is very high on my list. But I’m not involved. You’re asking the wrong guy.”

“The driver said he saw you the other night leaving the airport. Obviously he’s an agent and not a driver. He followed you to a suit guy. We questioned him,” Keane said.

“Great. Now I’ll have to pay full price because you bothered him.”

“Here’s the interesting thing I need you to clear up for me. We’ll get back to Chenzo,” Keane said and leaned on the counter although he didn’t look comfortable.

“I’m all ears. I’m also getting thirsty.”

“How is it the driver you had the other night ended up dead and dumped into the Hudson River an hour after you were dropped off at your hotel?”

I shrugged my shoulders and remained calm. He had nothing on me or we’d be doing this dance in an actual interrogation room.

“We found the car a block away. It had never been returned. Here’s the funny part, too. An eyewitness says he saw the guy driving the vehicle that dumped the body into the water and walked away from the car. It wasn’t you, obviously. You were already tucked away in your hotel bed. Who was the guy you were with, and which one of you killed the real driver?”

It hit me then. Hard.

The actual driver I’d hired had been in the trunk the entire time. I was being driven around by another player in this game, one I had no idea about. Was he connected to the cheerleader being shot? Did Keane know about it?

I needed to get out of here and think. Think. Think.

“I think it’s time I asked for a lawyer,” I said to Reggie. It was more about distancing myself from Keane so I could sort through a few things, and I needed to call Marisa as soon as possible.

“This isn’t an interrogation. It’s just two people having a chat in a house on Staten Island,” Reggie said.

It dawned on me what he was trying to say. The rumor for years was Chenzo owned most of the construction, cement and electricians in and out of Staten and Long Island. A few bodies had been dug up every now and then on new construction sites. A few dated back to before Chenzo had gained power, leading everyone to believe his predecessor had shown him the nice spots for the bodies to go six feet under.

“I won’t be intimidated by you or anyone else,” I said. Was Reggie on the take? Had I underestimated his humanity? Was he on Chenzo’s payroll like everyone else? If Keane had a price I needed to eventually find it and get rid of him before he did Chenzo’s dirty work and took care of me.

Reggie smiled. “I think you misunderstand me, James. I’m not trying to scare you into helping us. I need you to understand where I’m coming from. Chenzo has his hooks in half the agents under me. There was a shakeup in the Brooklyn office of the U.S. Marshalls this past week. The estimate is half of the agents were on The Family payroll at some point. It makes it hard to get rid of Chenzo or make anything stick. I suspect even my boss as having ties to The Family.”

“I still don’t get why you’re telling me any of this. I don’t have ties to Chenzo. In fact, by you pulling me off the street, he’ll definitely want me dead,” I said.

“I lost your file,” Reggie said.

“What file?”

“The eight hundred page folder of everything we’ve ever gotten on you. Every last sheet is gone,” Reggie said.

I shook my head. “I guess you’re going to bury me out here in the dumps with the rest of the bodies, is that it, Reggie? After all is said and done, dirty money is more important than doing the right thing?”

“I’m not interested in dirty money for dirty deeds,” Keane said. “I really need your help.”

“I can’t help you and you know it. Why are we wasting time?” I wanted to run out the door but knew his goons would drop me to the pavement. “The two agents with you. . . can they be trusted?”

“No one can be trusted. It’s why we’re all alone. I hid your file away. I don’t need it, anyway. I’ve studied your every move for years. When you called me Captain Ahab it wasn’t far off. I’ve obsessed about what you’ve been doing. Killing innocent children. What kind of man could do it and sleep at night? How could God let it happen?” Reggie asked.

“Are you asking me?”

He shook his head again. “I know you won’t give me anything. I get it. Part of the game. I want to crack this case on my own without any hints, James. Then it will be so satisfying for me. The odds are now firmly against me, though. I’m trying to figure out what you’re really doing.”

“You just accused me of killing children,” I said.

Reggie smiled. “And then. . . a child’s body washes onto a beach in Mass. Only, it’s nearly twenty years later and he’s all grown up. The little boy has been living in secret in another country and the way he got there is really strange. I talked to Sister Patricia.”

“I have no idea who that is.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t. I get it. Again, I’m fine with doing this the hard way and getting to the bottom of what makes you tick and what you’re really up to,” Reggie said.

“If you know I’m not going to make this easy, why bother with this meeting? Why not just keep following me and see if I slip up. Leave a clue at the scene of a crime,” I said.

“I need your help, like I keep saying.”

“I don’t know how to help you. I’m just trying to live my life,” I said. I wasn’t lying. I didn’t trust Keane because I didn’t trust anyone. It was part of the lifestyle, I guess. I was sure someday I’d be able to settle down and retire and find a nice woman who thought I was an old, laidback baseball card collector who got lucky and made some wise investments. I’d never tell her or anyone else what I’d really done all these years. Especially an FBI agent.

“I guess what I’m asking, James. . . if you get into a corner or find out some information that could help me put away Chenzo, I’d really like to hear it first. Do we understand one another?” Keane asked. He stared at me but it wasn’t a lame attempt to be menacing. He was hoping I’d nod my head.

I nodded my head.

“If anyone asks we went back and forth about me trying to get you to confess to all these dead children. That’s the reason I took you here, to work you over and get you to loosen your lips,” Keane said.

“I’m guessing your goons outside will ask some questions.”

Keane nodded. “I don’t trust them.” He put his hands up. “Let me rephrase that: I know one of them is on the take and it’s a fifty-fifty for the other one. They’ve both been assigned as my shadows by my boss, which looks really fishy to me. But they both know I do some things on my own and they’ll sit outside and wait for us to come out. There will be questions, though.”

“Not to me, I hope. I’ll give them my standard answer I give to all of you FBI thugs. . . no comment,” I said.

I had to admit, this was getting interesting. Chenzo’s power was much bigger than I’d thought, and his kid alive had thrust me into the center of a hurricane of hurt. For me.

“I enjoyed the Red Sox game the other night,” Keane said and stretched. “I can’t remember the last one I’d been to.”

“I like to go as much as possible, especially to a new stadium I’ve never seen,” I said.

“How many have you hit so far in your life?”

“Out of the new ones only eighteen. Someday I’ll tour the rest. I should be smart about it and find sports card shows happening around home games for places I need to see,” I said.

We both started walking towards the door and I knew Keane was making small talk because he was going to do something unpleasant to me before we got to the driveway.

“That would be an excellent goal,” Keane said. He stopped in the foyer and glanced out the side glass panel next to the front door. “Those two goons actually obeyed an order and stayed in the car.”

“Miracles do happen, right?”

Keane turned to me and nodded. He pulled a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket and slowly put them on.

“Is this where I die?” I asked.

“No. I need you alive. Remember? You’re going to help me crack this case and put Chenzo behind bars once and for all. I’ll also be able to figure out what you’ve been up to all these years. Maybe you’ll get to share a cell with Chenzo, although I can’t imagine you’d enjoy it,” Keane said.

“I doubt it.”

Keane sighed. “I can’t go out there with us smiling and laughing. We’ve been inside too long. I need to put a mark on you so they see I tried my best to get you to talk.”

“You’re going to use me for a punching bag? Seriously?” I didn’t like this one bit.

“Just one hit to the face.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“I need to leave a mark so they can see.”

“What if you bust my jaw or damage my eye? I’m not much of a fighter and I bruise easily. I also have a low tolerance for pain. I could go on,” I said.

The right cross came suddenly and I had time to close my eyes just as it landed across the side of my head. I was thrown back and banged the other side of my face on the sheetrock. That would also leave a mark.

“At least you didn’t break my nose,” I said, rubbing both sides of my face. I’d have matching bruises for a few days.

Keane led me outside, still disoriented, and the two FBI goons looked satisfied to see me in pain.

I took a cab to Spanish Harlem, walked three blocks before hailing a second cab, and after six blocks took the subway into Manhattan. I was being followed but it was easy to slip by the two FBI guys tailing me once I hit Penn Station.

The FBI on my trail was better than The Family, anyway. I was hoping the agents would scare off Chenzo’s men for awhile, until they figured out I was no longer being shadowed.

What bothered me was it wasn’t the two agents with Keane. I was being followed by yet another set, and I wondered how far and deep this went with the Feds. I’d suddenly become a person of interest after years of skating by and doing my own thing without interference.