Keeplock: A Novel of Crime (26 page)

“Every time I turn around,” Condon said, his finger jabbing out at me, “you threaten me with some kinda bullshit. One minute you’re gonna walk away. The next minute you’re gonna talk to your P.O. The minute after that you’re gonna punch me out. Somehow that don’t sound reliable to me. It don’t sound like your heart’s really in it. We’re gonna nail these motherfuckers in the fuckin’ act and you’re gonna be right there. That way, if you should happen to have an attack of conscience on the witness stand, the whole thing’ll fall on your deserving head. You understand what I’m tellin’ you?”

“What I think,” I said, sipping at the inevitable cup of coffee, “is that you should save your motivations for your psychiatrist. I’m not asking you why; I’m asking you what, when, and where.”

“We didn’t set up surveillance because there’s no safe way to do it,” Condon said. “
You’re
our surveillance.”

“That’s smart.” Truth be told, I was relieved. I hadn’t been kidding about Eddie’s potential reaction to the sudden appearance of the cops. If he had any chance at all, he’d most likely fight. “What about the rest of it?”

“Lemme think about it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Lemme think about it and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

They bullshitted me again on Tuesday, taking me through all the details without giving me any hint of what they planned to do. Instead, they cross-examined me like I was a suspect in a precinct interrogation room. What was our escape route? Where was the garage in the Bronx? How would Avi get from the school to the Bronx? What would he be driving? Would he be taking the same route as the rest of us?

“In the first place,” I told them, “there aren’t that many ways to get to the Bronx from Douglaston. In the second place, it’s not going to get that far unless you let us go through with the job, which is clearly impossible. What’s the point of it?”

“The point,” Rico explained, “is to make sure the rat squeaks the same story every time he tells it.”

“The point,” Condon explained, “is that why should we trust you more than you trust us? You went to your parole officer and told him about us so you could cover your back. Why should we trust someone who don’t trust anyone else?”

He had a point, actually. Trust wasn’t really part of our deal. So I told them about truck 345, listing each pickup and Parker’s estimate of the cash 345 would be carrying by the time it got to Stern’s, in Douglaston. “Now, what you can do is go back to Chapman Security and check their schedule. See if it matches what I’m telling you. You could also ask them, if you haven’t done it already, to look for an executive with full access who doesn’t exist anywhere else but in the soul of the fucking computer. That’ll be Parker. You should be able to find out exactly when he was in the computer and exactly what he looked at. But don’t take a lot of time with it, because tomorrow at noon that executive will cease to exist. Gone. No trace except for a few outgoing phone calls to a number that belongs to an unmarried postal worker in Queens.”

I ground to a stop, but nobody jumped in to pick up the slack. Instead, they exchanged meaningful looks.

“He rats good,” Rico said. “I gotta admit that he rats good.”

“Rico’s a rat connoisseur,” Condon announced.

“That’s right. A good cop’s gotta know his rats. Who’s got time for clues? Who’s got time for canvassing neighborhoods? What ya gotta do is go down to the garbage dump and shake the rats until one of them tell you what you need to know. That’s what we done with
you
.”

They went on and on, taking every opportunity to rub it in my face. They didn’t even have the
possibility
of professionalism. Their egos were bound up in everything they did. Of course, my ego was right there, too. I felt it every time the blood rose in my neck and ears. My instincts told me I could take Rico out with one hand. He was nothing, an asshole trying to throw his weight around. I knew a lot of hacks like that. They shoved us around to show how tough they were. Smart cons tried not to attract their attention. If we shoved back, we were headed for a beating and the box. If we didn’t shove back, we lost face.

I controlled myself by thinking of Ginny. I was still haunted by dreams, but I didn’t carry them into the daylight. The stakes were too high. Later, maybe, I’d have to pay a price. I’d look in the mirror and know myself for a coward. A man without the courage to give up all hope for an ordinary life with the woman he loved. To give it up and go back to the tender bosom of a New York State Max A Institution.

“Look, boys,” I said, “you’re only gonna get one more chance to play it straight. After tomorrow, you’re not gonna see me again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rico demanded. He was sniffing the air like a dog.

“Eddie’s rule. I told you about it last week. Everybody comes indoors three days before the job. Ya know, I can’t tell you how much I’m gonna miss these conversations.” I was lying. Eddie, after a great deal of persuasion (when women do it, it’s called nagging) had agreed to give me another night of freedom. I was going to spend it with Ginny, and the fact that Eddie’s place wasn’t being watched didn’t make it any harder.

“This is bullshit. You never told us nothin’.” Rico was livid.

“Yeah, he did.” Condon looked disgusted. “He told us on Friday. I got it in my notes.”

“Now listen carefully,” I said. “After tomorrow, you’re not gonna get another chance to make this thing right. If you fuck it up tomorrow, you lose everything. I wanna know what’s going on. And I especially wanna know exactly when my part is over and I can walk away.”

The message must have gotten through, because the next night Condon finally gave me the details. The cops would be waiting inside the loading area behind Stern’s. They’d disarm me and Eddie, then surround the van. Morasso could come out or not, as he chose. Parker’s fate would rest in his hands. As for Avi, he’d be taken when he stepped out of his car behind the schoolhouse. The rifle, broken-down, would be in a small suitcase. Eddie had insisted that Avi not carry a pistol on the street; he’d called it “unacceptable risk.”

After the arrests, we—those of us who were left—would be taken directly to Central Booking. We’d be fingerprinted, photographed and searched, then separated, which is routine in a big case. I’d give a statement directly to Condon and Rico, then walk out the front door.

“I don’t think you’ll have to testify,” Condon explained. “Eddie and them’ll plead. We’re takin’ them in the act, for Christ’s sake. But they’re gonna know who ratted them out. When you don’t turn up at Rikers or the Men’s House in Queens, they’ll know it was you. We got a place for you to stay up in the Bronx. Until after they plead.”

“I’ll get a place of my own.”

Ginny was already working on it. She’d promised a rent-stabilized apartment in the Sheepshead Bay section of Brooklyn by Saturday. Real estate was her field and she’d done enough favors over the years to make the whole thing routine.

“Yeah?” Condon shrugged, then gave Rico another meaningful look. “It’s your life, Frangello. Just make sure you’re available. You’re gonna have to give a sworn deposition to the prosecutor.”

“I’m still on parole.”

“This I already know.”

I
T WAS ALMOST NINE-THIRTY
when I got to Ginny’s. I opened the door to find the apartment completely dark. My hand went to my belt, looking for the gun I’d left in the car. Then the lights flashed on and I was staring at a mass of balloons and hanging crepe paper. The table was set in the dining room, complete with pointy hats and noisemakers.

“Surprise!”

“Goddamn it, Ginny, you scared the hell out of me. It’s not my birthday.”

“It’s your
re
-birthday we’re celebrating.” Ginny held up a bottle of champagne. As the days went by, she was looking more and more tired. Without having gone through it, there was no way she could understand how important it is to pace yourself, to save your energy for when it’s needed. Though she never complained, I had the feeling that her low would be just as sharp as the high that had followed my sudden reappearance in her life.

But her smile was as bright as ever. It was full of hope, an emotion almost unknown to me. Standing in the doorway, my heart still pounding away, I had a quick flash of myself returning after the arrests. Of Ginny waiting in the hall as I came out of the elevator, her eyes filled with tears of joy. Or glowing with pride. Or bright with desire.

“Ya know, I haven’t done much drinking since I got out. Be warned. When I get drunk, I’m liable to do
anything
.”

“Promises, promises. That’s all I ever get.”

We drank most of the champagne over dinner. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I have to report that I got drunk and let her take advantage of me. We were on the couch before we cleared the table. If Ginny had been hungry before, she was ravenous now. There was no foreplay. She pushed my cock inside her, jammed her knees against my thighs, grabbed the balls of my ass, and we were off to the races. I did the gentlemanly thing and rode her until she was exhausted.

Somehow we ended up in the bathtub. It was a narrow fit, but I’m not sure that was a disadvantage. Once again I played the part of the gentleman and took the end with the faucets. Ginny was lying back, a towel behind her head, while I sat up straight, trying to avoid the cold metal. Her legs, however, did come up along my shoulders and I was able to run a soapy washcloth down her calf, her knee, her thigh …

“What happened with Condon and Rico?” she asked.

So much for romance. I gave her the essentials of the meeting, hoping to return to her leg as soon as possible. We’d taken the champagne into the bathroom with us and I was too far gone to see the effect my story had on her. She pulled away as soon as I touched her.

“I don’t understand what Condon meant when he said Morasso could come out of the van or not come out. How can he be arrested if he doesn’t come out?”

Ginny had been drinking, too. Just enough to avoid the obvious, to make me spell it out for her.

“Morasso’s an M.O. It’s hard to predict exactly what he’ll do.”

“What’s an M.O.?”

“It stands for ‘mental observation’ and it means a prisoner is crazy enough for the hacks to notice, but not crazy enough to be separated from the rest of the convicts. The cons mostly use the word ‘bug’ to describe the same situation. Morasso’s a bug.”

“That means he might decide to fight it out. Go down in a blaze of glory.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“But what about Parker? He’ll be in the van with Tony.”

“That’s also true.”

“So what you’re saying is that if Morasso decides to fight, John Parker will be killed.”

“Ginny, if Morasso and Parker don’t come out of that van, the pigs’ll put so many holes in it, you won’t need the air conditioner in August. What’d you think, it was gonna be free? I’d whisper a few words into Condon’s ear and all my problems would blow away? Somebody has to pay, Ginny, and what I’m doing is trading their payment for mine. ‘Okay, Officer Condon, here’s the deal. I’ll give you a hundred years of other people’s time if you’ll give me five years of my time.’”

She got out of the tub and began to dry herself. You don’t often get to see a woman both naked and unaware of her nakedness, but Ginny was so wrapped up in her thoughts, I might as well have been on Mars. She’d dried herself completely before she got it straight.

“I’m part of it, too,” she said, turning to face me. “I listen to everything you say. I encourage you, help you plan for the unexpected. If Parker gets killed, then I’m also responsible.”

“Spoken like a true Christian.”

Her face reddened with anger. “You keep hiding behind that attitude. Why don’t you tell me what you really think.”

I pulled myself out of the water and reached for a towel. “You want me to say it’s okay?”

“I don’t know what I want. I’m new at this, remember?”

“Yeah, well this world isn’t about right and wrong. There are no good guys here. Everybody’s got their own brand of bullshit. This is about survival. I’m a wise guy because it helps me not to feel sorry for myself.”

“What about Simon? He wants to help you.”

“Simon’s a decent guy. He’d
like
to do the right thing, but he can’t. He’s trapped by the system. For instance, I came out of jail and Simon shipped me out to a battle zone. He said, ‘This is your new home, Pete. Try to be a good boy.’ If I’d bothered to say, ‘Simon, how do you expect me to follow the guidelines for parole if I have to live in a battle zone?’ Simon would have responded with his own helplessness. The politicians have sold him out. There’s no money for programs or decent housing or job training. What can he do?

“It’s no different with the cops. They know Calvin got what he deserved. Just like they knew you didn’t rip off that bodega. But the end justifies the means. Criminals must be stopped. Arrests must be made. Careers must be furthered.

“Eddie’s got his own brand of bullshit. ‘Guys like us, cuz, we never had a chance.’ Parker? Avi? It’s the same with both of them. Ask them and they’ll catalogue all the evil society’s done to them. Well, I don’t want that, Ginny. It doesn’t work for me. I can’t go back to jail and I’m doing what I have to do.”

I was lying, of course. I’d left out the bit about Ginny and the straw and the camel. She was part and parcel of my long rat tail, my shiny rat whiskers.

“What about me?” she asked quietly. “What’s my bullshit?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“I don’t owe Eddie Conte a damn thing. I don’t care what happens to him.”

“Spoken like a true Christian.”

Her face reddened again, this time from embarrassment. She started to speak, stopped, then started again. “I need you and I’m willing to sacrifice people I don’t even know to keep you. The rest of it—the arrest, the strip-search, the dyke—is pure fantasy.”

“Actually,
you
haven’t sacrificed
anyone.
If you recall, I jumped off this particular cliff without consulting you.”

I put my arms around her and pulled her close to me. She resisted for a moment, then laid her head on my shoulder.