Greenmantle (29 page)

13

“You say the road just stops at Valenti’s place, right?” Louie asked, as Earl turned off Highway 511 toward French Line.

“You got it,” Earl replied.

“Well, let’s just take a spin by the end of his road for starters,” Louie said.

“I don’t see why we don’t just—”

Louie cut Earl off. “This is my baby,” he said. “You don’t have to understand shit, you understand what I’m saying? Now you can just point out the spot to us and then blow, or you can hang in and maybe—if you do what I say—earn yourself a little bonus.”

Earl didn’t bother correcting him. Louie could think Earl was working for him all he liked. He could throw his weight around, mouth off—no problem. But Earl wasn’t going to forget. And when this Colombian deal he’d set up with Louie’s old man went through, well, maybe he and the wop could repeat this little conversation. Only this time, Earl would call the shots.

He made the turn that would take them to Lammermoor instead of French Line if they went far enough. “It’s coming up,” he said, slowing the car.

They passed by the road and came up on Frankie’s place.

“Is this the closest neighbor?” Louie asked.

Earl didn’t answer right away. He was looking at all the lights on in the house. His bucks were sitting in there, just waiting for him. All he needed was Frankie’s signature. The second car in the driveway bothered him.

“Hey—are you listening to me?”

Earl glanced at Louie. “Yeah, sure. Valenti’s place is maybe half a mile up that road on a dead end. Other than that place we passed a mile or so back, the next closest people are living just outside of Lammermoor.”

“How far’s that?”

“We’re talking maybe two miles.”

“What about this place?” Fingers asked from the back seat. He indicated a rundown old log cabin that was coming up on their right.

“It’s deserted, like the other place just before we got to Valenti’s road.”

“Okay,” Louie said. “I’m getting a feel for the area. Turn us around once and then drop me off at the end of Tony’s road.”

Earl glanced at him. “Listen,” he began. “If you’re—”

“Just get this shitbox turned around and drop me off, okay?”

“Sure,” Earl said. “No problem.”

He turned the car and headed back the way they’d come, slowing as they drew near to Frankie’s house once more. The drapes were drawn, but he could see figures moving inside, silhouetted against the interior lights. Party while you can, he thought as he pulled over to the end of the road leading to Valenti’s.

“You want me to come?” Fingers asked.

Louie shook his head. He picked up the Ingram that was lying on the seat between himself and Earl. “I can do it. I’m just going in for a look-see. You drive on, Earl, and come back and pick me up in a half hour or so. Think you can handle that?”

He stepped out of the car before Earl could reply and closed the door.

“You heard the man,” Fingers said.

Earl nodded. He drove off. Maybe he’d made a mistake, calling Broadway Joe. All this Valenti shit was slowing down his personal business. Who cared if Valenti bought it or not? What was important right now was the bread Frankie had. Once the money was in hand, there’d be plenty of time to deal with Valenti. It wasn’t like Louie had a monopoly on wanting to pay the guy back.

He glanced in the rearview mirror. Fingers was resting easily. Wonder what he’d do if we just left his boss back there? Earl wondered. Maybe when he took out Louie, he’d put a bullet through Fingers’ head while he was at it. Fucking wops.

“Pull over,” Fingers said suddenly. They weren’t more than a mile and a half from where they’d let Louie off.

“What for?”

“We’ll give him his twenty minutes or so,” Fingers said, “but I want to be close in case something comes up.”

“He isn’t exactly gonna phone or anything,” Earl said as he pulled over.

Fingers leaned over the seat and killed the engine. “I want to be able to hear,” he said. Hefting the Browning automatic rifle, he stepped out of the car.

“Somebody drives by and sees you standing there with that, they’re gonna wonder why,” Earl said as he joined Fingers on the road. He swatted at a couple of mosquitoes. Of course they went for him instead of the wop.

“You let me worry about who sees what,” Fingers replied. He walked a little way down the road.

Earl trailed after him, hands in the pockets of his jacket when he wasn’t swatting bugs. The fingers of his right hand closed around his .38. Bang, he thought. I should just blow the both of you away right now and tell Big Daddy Broadway Joe that Tony Valenti hasn’t lost his touch yet. But maybe, as a personal favor to Joe, Earl would see what he could do.

Earl grinned. If it wasn’t that it’d probably fuck up the dope deal, he was real tempted. He’d show these wops that he didn’t have to belong to no fucking “family” to get ahead.

“What’s Louie’s problem with Valenti?” he asked as he came up beside Fingers.

“Goes back a way. You know Louie’s got Tony’s old job, right?”

“Sure. First deal I ran by you boys was through Valenti.”

“Yeah, well, when Tony hit the
padrone
, he tried to disappear. Trouble was, he went to the first place we thought of looking—Mario Papale’s place in Malta. The guy they called the Silver Fox.”

“Before my time. I never heard of him.”

“Yeah, well, he was one of the best. Anyway, Louie went to Papale’s place to hit Tony—it’s like his first hit on the job, you know what I’m saying?”

Earl nodded. “Only he blew it.”

“It don’t look so good. Well, Louie’s made things up, but this’s always been a little piece of unfinished business. He’s got all the respect a man can get because when he does a job, it gets done, and no one’s holding the Malta deal against him because he was up against both Tony
and
the Fox, but it’s still eating at him, you know? So he’s got to do it right this time—up close and personal.”

“Yeah, but dead’s dead.”

“Sure it is,” Fingers said. “But it’s a matter of honor for Louie now. He wants to do it himself—with Tony looking him in the eye and
knowing
what’s going down—and he wants it clean, too. That’s going to give him a lot of respect, if he pulls it off right. Any asshole can do a hit. It takes a guy with something special to do it just right. Clean. No connections. Just the right people knowing what went down.”

“I guess,” Earl said. If you’re a wop and not too bright. Fercrissakes. Honor. Respect. Who the hell did these guys think they were anyway?

“You’ve got to be family to understand what I’m telling you,” Fingers said.

“Hey, I understand,” Earl said. “I got a lot of respect for your boss. He’s some kind of guy, let me tell you. We don’t get his kind up here.”

Fingers nodded, pleased with the response.

Lap it up, Earl thought. Christ, Howie should see these guys. Thinking about Howie, he realized that he really should do something for the guy. He was a little worm, but he could be useful. He should get Howie back to Ottawa, keep him out of sight of these Italian clowns. It was always good to have some backup that nobody but you knew you had. Earl always liked the idea of having an edge.

* * *

An edge was what Louie was looking for, too. He’d talked to his father just before they’d left for Lanark and learned about the meet with the Fox. That complicated things, made it even more important that this hit didn’t look like what it was. At least not until they’d done something about Papale.

He followed the road, keeping to the side where his shoes made just a rustle of sound in the grass. Mosquitos hummed around his head, but few landed. He heard a soft sound like a birdsong coming from deep in the woods, but it was almost gone before he could place it. He wondered about what kind of bird would make a sound like that, then turned his thoughts back to the business at hand.

Before they planned anything, they had to know if Tony was still hanging around. Louie wasn’t really expecting it. Tony’d never been stupid. But he might not have made Earl. Or maybe he wouldn’t figure that Earl would go to the family with what he had, even if Tony
did
think he’d been made.

Until they knew for sure, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot they could do. And for this kind of thing, Louie liked check it out himself. If you were going to do the hit, then you should be the one to case the area. Get the feel of things. Figure out who was where, what they’d do. Being careful kept you alive after the job was done. And the less people involved, the better.

Every since the fiasco in Malta, he’d worked pretty much just with Fingers. It’d be easy to load the area with
soldati
, but that didn’t look good—not if word got out to the other families. He could just hear the talk. “Hey, didja hear the Magaddinos finally got Tony Valenti? Took twenty guys under Fucceri, but what the hell, they got the job done.”

No, Louie thought. That wouldn’t look good at all. And besides, too many men got in each other’s way. Like in Malta. Well, Tony wasn’t going to have the Fox to pull him out of this one. If he was still in the area, it was just going to be the two of them.

He could see the lights of the house now. He got the Ingram ready for use and moved in closer, through the hedge and out on to the lawn. He saw a man he didn’t recognize sitting by the window at the front of the house. A few moments later, Tony walked by and sat down beside him.

Louie grinned when he saw Tony’s limp. Guess you haven’t forgotten me yet, huh, Tony? He made a circuit of the house. When he was sure that it was just the two men, he started back down the road. It was starting to come together now—how he was going to play it.

Halfway back to where he was going to meet Fingers and Earl, he paused to listen. There it was again. Had to be some kind of bird. But what kind of birds were out at night? Didn’t they sleep or something? The sound was eerie, but he shook off the feeling he got from it. He knew shit about the woods, but he wasn’t about to let some little birdie get him all jumpy. Sure as hell was a strange sound, though.

He continued on his way.

* * *

The dark-haired man had followed Louie up from the road. He’d recognized Fucceri right off, finger tightening on the trigger of his crossbow, but he knew that by the time he fired and started to reload, the two men in the car would take him out. As the car drove off he realized that this probably wasn’t the hit yet.

He followed the lone man up the road, finger tightening again as Louie stood outside Valenti’s house, studying the two men sitting by the window. When Louie made a circuit of the house, the man stayed on his trail. He was still undecided as to what to do with Fucceri as Louie made his way back down the road.

When Louie stopped suddenly, the man froze. Had he been heard? He stilled his own breathing, then understood what Louie was hearing. It was the music. This is just one busy area, he thought as Louie continued on his way. The scene with the woman down by the road. The music. Fucceri showing up. Not to mention what had brought him here himself.

The car returned then, making his decision for him. He melted farther back into the trees and watched Louie get in. The car turned around and drove off, and the man returned to his van, listening to the quiet until another spill of eerie music slipped across it, fey and distant.

Cradling the crossbow, he leaned against a tree. That music… There was something in it…something… He shook his head. He could almost understand what it was saying to him, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. It was like it was talking to him personally, and while he’d never had any second thoughts about who he was or what he did with his life, he had the feeling that the music was trying to tell him that he should.

14

Lily stayed to keep Lewis company by the old stone after the other villagers had left the glade. Lewis wasn’t surprised. They were old friends and he appreciated her presence. It helped him concentrate on something other than the downward spiral of his thoughts that tonight’s events had set into motion, making him feel his years more than usual. What did surprise him, however, was that Tommy Duffin had stayed as well.

Tommy sat, half-hidden by the base of the standing stone, Gaffa lying near his knee. He would have been invisible, and then forgotten, if he didn’t lip his reed-pipes from time to time, sending a few bars of a sad air across the glade, which lingered, faded and then were gone, until he started the cycle over again.

Such a sound, Lewis thought, hearing the piping tonight as though for the first time again. It was this that they had heard in Arcadia, a music like this, when the world was young, but the forests already old. The mystery seemed close when the music played. Surely he was hidden by the low-hanging branches of the nearest trees, or in the spill of briars and bushes that grew thick on the slope behind the stone. He’d be a Green Man, a stag, a goatman, a boar—whatever shape he chose, or in no shape at all—but he was near. Or was it just the music? Lewis wondered. Just the glade that knew him so well, some trick of the stone, or was the mystery returning? Had he lost the hounds and was now bringing Mally and the girl back?