Greenmantle (19 page)

“God. If anything ever happened to Ali…”

Frankie leaned weakly back in her chair, feeling her resolve drain away. She looked at Tony’s serious face. He made it hard, too. There was something about him—not just the secrets she could sense in him, but some inner strength he had that she envied. She was attracted to him because of who he was and how he carried himself, because of his relationship with Ali, too. But what if that attraction was just her reaching out to lean on someone again?

“How…how involved in this scary business stuff were you?” she asked.

“Whatever I was into, I’m retired,” Valenti replied. “Believe me, Frankie. But I will tell you this: What I learned in that business kept Ali from being snatched last night.”

Frankie nodded. Neither Ali nor Valenti had been forthcoming about the details of what had taken place last night. Frankie meant to get to the bottom of it, only now didn’t seem to be the right time. But there was more than just Earl involved. Of that she was sure.

She sat up straighter. “I’m still not going,” she said.

“Will you let me help you?” Valenti asked. “As a friend helping a friend, or a neighbor helping a neighbor? No strings.”

“But I’m not staying up here. We’re going back to our own house.”

“Fair enough. And you’ll call if anything comes up?”

“God! Of course I’ll call. We should call the police as well—now, before Earl comes back.”

“And what are they going to do?”

Frankie thought about that. Unless they caught Earl in the act, the most that could happen was that she might be able to get a restraining order from the court, but she knew from past experience just how much use that would be.

“But if Earl
does
come again…?”

“Call me,” Valenti said. “I’m two minutes away and my friend Tom’s staying for the week. By the time the police answer your call, God knows what’ll have happened.”

Frankie nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll call you.”

Valenti held back a “that’s a girl.” He didn’t think Frankie would appreciate it. But come to think of it, who the hell was he to talk down to her like that? She was making a stand, wasn’t she? And willing to do it on her own, too. You had to admire someone who was willing to do that, man or woman.

“Things are going to work out,” he said.

“God, I hope so,” Frankie said. But she knew she had a lot to think about. Just then Ali and Bannon returned, Bannon loaded down with a half-dozen books that Ali had lent him.

“You going to stay for lunch?” Valenti asked Frankie.

Frankie nodded and found a small smile with difficulty. Just looking at her daughter as Ali bounced happily about the room, talking up a storm with a somewhat bemused Bannon, she felt a stab of fear so sharp that her chest hurt. If anything happened to Ali… No, she told herself. Don’t even think about it.

2

Broadway Joe Fucceri didn’t much like the idea of the meet. He liked it even less when he and two of his boys stepped into the restaurant, spotting at least three hired muscles on top of the one they’d noticed outside. It was easy to spot them—but then he was supposed to. What bothered him was that he couldn’t make any of them. The fact that the meet was in the area of a lot of off-Broadway theaters hadn’t escaped his notice either. The message was: Play it cool.

The Silver Fox was waiting for him in a booth at the rear of the restaurant, looking the same as always. The big smile, the silver hair. Broadway Joe motioned his bodyguards over to the counter and walked down to the Silver Fox’s booth.

“Hey, Mario,” he said as he slid in across from him. “Immigration know you’re in town?”

Mario shrugged. “
Come te la sei passata
?” he asked. How’s it going?

“Not so bad,” Broadway Joe said, waggling his hand. “We got a few problems, but there’s always problems. Nothing we can’t handle.” He picked up the menu and studied it for a moment. “You wanted to talk?”

“I got a favor I’d like you to think about.”

“Must be a pretty important favor to get you to fly in, considering.”

“For me, it’s important,” Mario said. “For you, it’s nothing.”

“So tell me about it.”

Mario studied him for a moment. He’d wanted a face-to-face meet because that was one thing he was good at: reading faces. “It’s about Tony,” he said. “Tony Valenti.”

“That’s old news now,” Broadway Joe said.

“Old news as in, you don’t want him, or old news like, you’ve got a line on him?”

“I’ll tell you the truth, Mario, it’s a little of both, you know what I’m saying? Now, I know you’re not stupid enough to come in here carrying a wire, so between the two of us, I know Tony had nothing to do with the Don getting hit, so what do I want with him?”

“Word on the street says the open contract on him still stands.”

“That’s just business—we’re not looking for him.”

“Not even if someone fingers him?”

“I never figured the Silver Fox for a snitch,” Broadway Joe said.

Mario’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I didn’t fly three thousand miles to listen to this kinda shit.”

“So what
did
you come for?”

“I want you to call off the contract on Tony,” Mario said. “As a favor. You can say he was hit—I don’t give a shit how you put it—just so’s you call it off.”

Broadway Joe shook his head. “I don’t like what I’m hearing, Mario. I don’t like your muscle, I don’t like this ‘off-Broadway’ shit, I don’t like threats.”

“I’m asking you for a favor, Joe.”

“Yeah. But I’m hearing ‘or else’ behind your asking.”

Mario shrugged.

“We were friends once,” Broadway Joe said. “We were family, Mario. But I don’t know who you are anymore. You told me you were retired, but the word comes from overseas that you’re connected with some of the old families now. Now, I got as much respect as anyone for them, but this is America, and what they say don’t mean shit here—you understand what I’m saying?”

“We’d still be working together if the family hadn’t let me be deported.”

“Well, I regret that,” Broadway Joe said. “I really do. But that’s the way of the world,
capito?
Not much we can do about that anymore.”

“I’m not asking for that.”

“I know. You’re asking me for something that’s not so easy for me to promise—not when I got to think about some of the old families trying to throw their weight around over here. What you’re asking for is a little thing—but if I give it to them, what’re they gonna ask for next?”

“This is personal—you know that.”

Broadway Joe nodded slowly. “Between you and me, then?”

“Between you and me,” Mario agreed. “And I
am
retired now, Joe. I’ve done the old families a favor or two, but shit, I got to live with them. It’s better to be owed than owing.”

“I can understand that,” Broadway Joe said. “Okay. As a favor to you, I’m calling off the contract on Tony.”

Mario regarded him for a long moment. You lying sonovabitch, he thought. But he’d had to try. “This’s one I owe you,” he said softly.

Broadway Joe smiled, taking the words at face value and missing the irony behind them. “I’m glad we had this talk, Mario,” he said. “It’s been too long. Maybe we can pull a few strings, get you back into the country legally—what do you say?”

Mario shook his head, matching Broadway Joe’s smile with his own. “I’m too settled where I am now, Joe. But I appreciate it.”

“You want to order now?”

“No. I’ve got a flight to catch.” Mario stood up and offered Broadway Joe his hand. “
Ciao
, Joe.”

Broadway Joe rose as well and shook. “May we all live long and prosperous lives,” he said.

Mario nodded and left the restaurant, but only one of the men Broadway Joe had spotted as his muscle left with him. The other two sat watching Broadway Joe and his bodyguards.

Now’s not the place, Broadway Joe thought. But as soon as Valenti was hit, something would have to be done with the Silver Fox. It would need to be carefully arranged, for although the old families didn’t have the control that the media claimed they did here in America, they still had a long arm. And Mario himself would be dangerous as soon as he learned about Tony being hit. Broadway Joe knew he’d feel a whole lot better once both of them were out of the way.

* * *

As the meet was going down in New York City between the Silver Fox and the
consigliere
of the Magaddino family, Earl Shaw was meeting a plane at the Ottawa International Airport. He drove a new Buick that he’d rented from Hertz under false ID. After leaving the lot with it, he’d taken the extra precaution of switching its plates with another Buick in an underground parking lot downtown. Leaving the car at a meter when he reached the airport, he drifted inside to wait for the most recent New York flight to disembark. He wondered who Broadway Joe had sent.

I’m gonna enjoy this, Earl thought. Ever since he’d worked with Valenti on that Miami deal, he’d had an itch for the guy. He was just too old-world Mafia for Earl’s tastes. When he’d heard that Valenti had hit old man Magaddino, he’d had to laugh. Just goes to show you, he’d thought. Don’t trust no-fucking-body.

The passengers were coming through now and Earl gave them the once over. When his gaze fell on Louie Fucceri, a smile came to his lips. Well, that figured. Who better to send after their old chief enforcer than their new one? He caught Fucceri’s gaze and nodded toward outside. When Louie nodded back, Earl ambled out the front door of the terminal and went for the car.

* * *

“He made you?” Louie repeated.

He sat in the front seat with Earl. He’d brought only one man with him, Johnny “Three-Fingers” Maita, who was sitting in the back. When they’d stepped out of the terminal looking for his car, Earl had trouble keeping a straight face. They were both in their three-piece suits with their slick wop hair and dark complexions. It was just too much.

In the back seat, Fingers was now taking apart some aerosol shaving cream and spray deodorant cans. Fitted neatly inside them were the makings of two small .22 pistols, complete with silencers. Putting aside the cans that had gotten the weapons in through customs, Fingers put the guns together. When the first was done, he passed it over the front seat to Louie, then went to work on his own.

“Yeah,” Earl said in reply to Louie’s question. “He made me. So what?”

Louie shook his head. “So what? He’s going to be long-gone, that’s so what.”

“Where’s he going to go?”

“Anywhere but where he was. I mean, think about it for a moment. Would you hang around?”

“Well, that’d all depend on who made me,” Earl said. “Valenti knows I’m not connected. Christ, I’ve only done one deal with you guys before, so what’s the problem?”

Louie didn’t bother answering. If he’d known this before, he wouldn’t have bothered flying in. “Well, we might as well check it out, now that we’re here,” he said.

Earl grinned. “Sure. Why not?”

Not for the first time, Louie wondered about his father’s wisdom in trusting Earl with this Colombian run. Sure, he had some good connections in Bogotá. But he didn’t have much in the way of brains.

“Did you get the artillery we’re going to need?” he asked.

Earl shook his head. “I got that deal going down this afternoon.”

The reason he hadn’t set it up sooner was that he was running drastically low on funds. Frankie-baby, he thought. You and me, we’ve got to talk. Real soon.

Coming off the Airport Parkway onto Bronson Avenue, he glanced at Louie. “You guys want to get set up at the hotel first?”

Louie nodded. Earl looked in the rearview mirror to see Fingers staring off out of one of the side windows. Nice suits, he thought again. Wonder how pretty they were going to look if they had to chase Valenti down through the woods. He grinned at the thought of the two big-city gunmen floundering through the bush. The image kept him in good humor all the way to their hotel.

3

Frankie turned off the ignition after pulling into their drive. She didn’t get out of the car right away, turning instead to look at Ali.

“What do you know about Tony?” she asked. “I mean, about what he did before he came to live up here?”

Ali regarded her mother and thought for a moment. She had a good idea as to why Frankie was asking this question, but she wasn’t sure how much Tony had told her. Some, at least, or she wouldn’t be asking about it.

“Not a whole lot,” she said finally. “I get the feeling from stuff he’s said that he was involved with some sort of law enforcement agency—something to do with studying organized crime.”

Frankie’s eyebrows went up. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“He knows things about Earl that I didn’t think he could know without being involved in some sort of criminal activity himself. But now that you mention it, a policeman would know the same things—or at least enough to know what kind of a man Earl is.” She shook her head slowly. “God, when I think of what he was like when I first met him…”