Once a Crooked Man (37 page)

“What's the catch?” he asked.

Max slapped him hard across the face, spun the chair around and untied his hands. With fingers of steel pressing into his arms, Harry was marched across the room and up the stairs. Halfway up he stumbled and fell. Max picked him up bodily. The man might have had a heart condition, but he was still physically powerful. They stopped at the end of the corridor before a door marked Berlin. Max turned the handle, kicked it wide open and shoved Harry inside.

A thin woman lay on a raised platform that was covered in black rubber. She was naked and tied down at all four corners. Max pushed him over to the side of the platform. The girl turned her head and their eyes met.

“Oh my God!” said Lizzie. “Harry!”

“That's the catch, Mr. Murphy,” said Max, and pushing him back out into the corridor he slammed the door shut and bustled him down the two flights of stairs into the basement. At a black metal door set in the far wall Max spun a dial back and forward five times. As he heaved it open, the light inside went on. Harry was shoved inside.

The vault was lined with shelves. Each shelf was piled with bundles of notes. Most of what Harry could see were hundreds.

“Figure a way to get three million of that to London,” said Max, “and you get your girlfriend back.”

“You sadistic bastard…,” said Harry.

“Well? What do you say?”

“Three million!?” replied Harry. “There's no way…”

“You did it before.”

Harry hesitated. Lizzie was in deep trouble. Max had a problem. If he could come up with a solution, maybe he could save her. He took a deep breath. “How much time have I got?”

“You don't. It needs to happen right away.”

“What if I can't do it?”

Max looked hard at Harry. “I'll just have to find a way without you.”

“How do I know you'll…?”

“You have my word,” said Max.

“Your word!” scoffed Harry. “That's reassuring.”

“My word that you'll both be dead meat if you fail. Do I make myself clear?”

“As crystal,” replied Harry.

Max stepped back and closed the door behind him. Automatically the light above Harry's head went out and left him totally in the dark.

 

70

Max ran up the last flight of stairs, paused to catch his breath before opening the door. Enzo was seated on the sofa next to Cora, Rocco was at the dining table and Benny was in the kitchen.

“Right,” said Max. “This is what needs to be done and this is how we're going to do it.” He closed the door and moved to the center of the room. “Cora, we have to close this place tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” said Cora. “Why the rush?”

Max spoke deliberately. “Need I remind you all, an IRS agent just went to Carter's apartment and asked about the Bruschettis. Now Carter has disappeared. Trust me, two days and the Feds will come knocking. It's not likely Carter told his wife about us, so she'll have no idea where he's gone. And if he did tell her anything she'll keep quiet to avoid any kind of a scandal. At the very least that gives Sal a few hours to get rid of him good.”

“So?” Cora persisted.

“So you will call everyone that works at Mazaras. Tell them Sanitation has cited us for violations and we have to shut down for a month. Call Maurizio and Nando and tell them the same. Tell them they'll all be getting a month's wages.”

“And then what?”

“Take a vacation. Lie low, but let me know where you are. I'll be in touch.”

“Just like that.”

“Yes, just like that. And before you leave, bring me up some fresh clothes for Murphy's girl.”

Enzo smirked. “Yes, I saw how her others got messed up.”

Max ignored the taunt. “Enzo, you go over to Macy's, and get a bunch of cases. Get ready to move the cash out of the vault. When you've done that, go home and make sure there is nothing anywhere the Feds could use against us. Destroy everything. Understood?”

“Where I should take it?”

“We still have those apartments?”

“The stash house? One of them, yes.”

“Be ready to take the money there.”

“When? Why the delay?”

“We have a slight complication. I had a call from Colonel Villiers asking for over a million dollars to keep his mouth shut. I've decided to give him what he wants.”

“You got to be joking!” exclaimed Enzo.

“No, I'm not, little brother. What's more, I'm going to use Harry Murphy to make the transfer. He's done it before. Given the right provocation, he can do it again.”

Enzo gave an exasperated sigh. “Why send the fucking money? Just send Rocco. He can take care of it.”

Max shook his head. “I don't agree. Rocco will go with Murphy. When the Colonel sees the cash, he'll believe everything is going along the way he planned. With Murphy there as an added distraction, Rocco should have no trouble in dealing with Villiers.”

“He's right, Enzo,” said Rocco. “Villiers will have figured we tried to knock him off once. He'll be on his guard. This way he'll be less suspicious.”

The room became very quiet.

Enzo was still skeptical. “What makes you think Murphy will go along with such a crazy idea? What's in it for him?”

“He has no choice. I've told him I'm using his girlfriend as collateral.”

“I like it,” said Rocco.

“You going to keep her with you?” asked Enzo.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out of sight and out of mind,” replied Max. “I haven't quite figured that out yet. As soon as I do I'll call you.”

Enzo stood up. “Well, if that's what you want, let's get on with it.”

 

71

Harry lay on the floor of the big safe with a lumpy bundle of cash under his head as a pillow. The Stygian darkness helped him to focus his mind. The bad guys thought he was an accomplished smuggler. If he was going to save Lizzie he couldn't disappoint them.

The last time he had skillfully hidden the notes in camera cases and that had worked well. Why not simply do it again with different cases? They would have to be carried for a specific purpose and whoever went with them would have to be associated with that purpose. All he needed was an agenda that would fill these parameters. The rest would be a matter of logistics.

There was an odd noise above his head. The dials on the door were turning. As it swung open, Harry blinked at the sudden light.

A man stood in the doorway.

“My name is Rocco,” he began. “And I'm here to help.”

“Great!” said Harry, getting up. “Right now I need a bottle of red wine, preferably Italian. Shouldn't be too hard around here. After I've had a drink I am going to sit and think. If I fall asleep, wake me at five exactly. Bring me a razor and soap and some clean clothes. Mine are in the trunk of a rented Ford Escape that's parked across the road. The keys are in the ignition. Move it to the garage upstairs and bring my stuff down here. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Rocco. As he went out of the basement, Benny the driver came down and sat strategically at the foot of the stairs. The man seemed totally unconcerned that moments earlier he had killed the man in the gray suit. The man they had called Carter.

 

72

Lizzie couldn't help but relax on the soft warm surface. For a while she dozed off. The door opening woke her. Max came over and began to undo the straps that bound her wrists and ankles.

“That wasn't a ghost, was it? Harry's still alive, isn't he?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You told me he drowned.”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

Before he could answer her, Cora came in with a dress draped over her arm and a pair of panties. “Jesus, Max!” she cried. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“It was your idea,” said Max with a grin. “And it succeeded.”

Lizzie sat up. “You got a smoke?” she asked Cora.

“Sure, honey.” Cora pulled out a packet of Marlboros and lit one. Lizzie's hand trembled slightly as she took it from her. She took a long drag, let the smoke trickle out slowly and then slid to the edge of the bed to put on the panties.

“What did you mean, ‘it succeeded'?” she asked.

“Thanks to you,” replied Max, “your boyfriend now works for us.”

Lizzie picked up the dress and pulled it over her head. “Doing what?”

“Doing what you said he does well,” said Max. “Moving money.”

“How come he agreed?”

“I told him I'm using you as security,” replied Max.

Lizzie looked around for her shoes and slid her feet into them. She picked up her purse and slowly used her lipstick.

All was not lost. Harry was still alive. How long he would remain that way was another matter. Once again he had managed to get himself into a dangerous situation, and this time there was very little she could do to help him.

“You need me anymore, Max?” Cora asked. “I have calls to make.”

“No,” he replied. “Let me know if anything comes up. I'll be upstairs.”

As soon as they were alone, Lizzie said, “Upstairs?”

“Where I live when I'm not at home,” said Max. “Come on; I'll show you.”

Following Max up to the top floor, Lizzie realized that everything had changed. The worst thing she could do was escape. Now she needed to stay close to Max. That way she might be able to find out what was happening to Harry.

As they came into the apartment she asked, “What are the chances he could get caught?”

“That's a risk I'm prepared to take.”

“He's not a cat, you know. He doesn't have nine lives.”

“He did it once; he can do it again,” said Max.

“How much is he smuggling for you?” she asked.

“A lot.”

“What makes you think he can do it?” she persisted. “What if he just got lucky the first time? You stand to lose a bundle of cash. And then what?”

“We move to plan B.”

“Yeah? And where does that leave Harry?”

“You ask too many questions.”

Lizzie smiled. “Always do,” she said. “It's a habit of mine I learned when I was very young.”

She walked over and into the bedroom and was surprised to see that the walls were white and bare. An ugly prosaic light fitting hung in the middle of the ceiling. The bed was simply sheets and a blanket. The floor was bare polished wood. Incongruously under the window were unpainted shelves that overflowed with books. Most of them new.

“What's all those?” she asked as he followed her in.

“I like to read in bed. It's a habit of mine,” he replied.

She pointed at the door in the far wall. “Is that the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“I need to pee.”

“Go ahead,” replied Max.

Moments later Lizzie called out, “You don't have a tub, do you, just this bleedin' shower?”

“I only take showers,” he replied.

“Mind if I use it? I had a nasty experience earlier and I'd like to wash it off.”

“Sure,” he said. “Be my guest.”

Lizzie was soaping her hair and her eyes were closed when he slipped in behind her. She tried hard to push him away and upturned her face under the cascading water to get the suds off.

“Time for another nasty experience,” he said, and reached over for the soap. Working up a lather, he washed her back and shoulders. She gave a slight cry of protest and tried to get past him to the door. Max put his arms around her and massaged her breasts and abdomen. With her arms stretched high over her head and with her body pinned against the tiles he took her from behind. As he moved, their well-lubricated bodies slapped noisily together. Max held back for as long as he could and then drove hard into her and exploded. They both slid down and sat on the floor with the water falling like autumn rain.

“You are a randy old bugger, aren't you?” said Lizzie, holding her mouth open to drink the warm water. “You feed me, fill me with wine, tie me up, rape and ravish me twice in a few hours. Do you treat all your lady friends like this or am I getting the special?”

Max looked intensely at her and said, “I like you, Liz. I like the way you talk.”

“So you said.”

“Yes. But I also like the way your mind works.”

Lizzie gazed hard at him for a moment and then said, “I'm getting all wrinkly.”

Max stood up, turned off the water and opened the door. As she got out he handed her a robe.

“You're right about Harry,” Max said, toweling himself off. “I don't care what happens to him. I know what I want, and I know how to get it. When I'm through with people it's as if they never existed.”

“That's not very nice, if I may say so.”

“Maybe. I get the feeling you're the same. You know what you want and you know how to get it.”

Lizzie wrapped a towel from the rail around her head and they moved back into the main room. Max retrieved his pants and put them on. Lizzie sat down at the table as he poured them coffee.

Lizzie curled her legs beneath her on the sofa. “So tell me. What are you planning to do with your life? Or not to do?”

“No idea,” he said.

“Where would you go?”

“Somewhere far away where it's warm and the living is easy.”

“And you'd sit on the beach sipping Mint Juleps, or whatever you Americans drink, and watch the world go by?”

Max walked over to his desk and pulled out a framed photograph from the bottom drawer.

“My father Aldo,” he said, sitting beside her. “With one of his trucks. He used to make a big deal about Fate.”

“Fate?”

Max nodded. “He told me when you make a choice you make a deal with Fate. He said that Fate is never on your side, so you have to constantly fight to succeed. I realized early on that he was right. I also remember him telling me there is one choice no one ever makes for themselves.”