The Informant (33 page)

Neil was at her side, leaning over her, whispering her name, his fingers gently brushing away hair from her forehead and eyes. He swallowed, feeling tears cool on his face. When he had entered the room, the fear of what could happen to him, to his career, if he went after Dominic León had
b
een strong on his mind, but now it was gone, and in its place was the firm decision to do something he never thought he’d ever do.

His whisper was barely audible. “I’ll get León for you, Lydia. I promise. I’ll get him for doing this to you, believe me. I promise you, I promise.”

She opened her eyes slowly, inhaled through her open mouth, and tried to lift one hand from the bed. Neil took the hand in both of his and kissed it. “I promise, I promise.”

Israel Manzana kept his cocaine in the kitchen of the
Casa Picadillo
restaurant, in the freezer compartment of a refrigerator that stood directly in front of the kitchen’s always open door. From the booth where Neil and Israel had been sitting, the refrigerator could easily be seen, and there was more security than that, Neil knew. There were cooks in the kitchen, and waiters coming in and out, always somebody to watch that refrigerator and two others. When Neil and Israel had left the booth to go into the kitchen, three Cuban men and two women had immediately slid into the booth, continuing their conversation in Spanish, fooling no one, and certainly not Neil, who knew that they were now watching the kitchen, keeping their eyes on Israel’s stash.

Israel grinned, handing Neil a tinfoil-wrapped package half the size of a brick. “Keep my shit cool for my customers. Go on, take a look. You see, it is white clear through, same color white. I hit it once, no more. Fifty per cent pure, like I say.”

Neil went through the motions, pulling off tinfoil and wax paper. To hell with what it looked like; it wasn’t good powder until the lab said it was, so Israel could keep on smiling until his lips got tired of being stretched. “Yeah, Israel, shit looks good.” Neil rewrapped the cocaine. “Where’s a phone?”

“There.” Manzana pointed to a pay phone hanging on a wall, where the white paint was now a faded yellow and peeling.

Neil said, “Cool. I’ll call my people, and the trucks will be here in no time. You’ll hear the horns: two quick beeps, then three more. You send two men outside, like we agreed, no more, and make sure they ain’t packing. Deal was that outside my people got guns, inside here your people got guns.”

Manzana frowned, palms upturned, shoulders raised. “Hey, Neil, you the Hundred Dollar Man. I trust you, we do some deals already, remember?”

Neil had a role to play. “Israel, you’re cool, I know it. But my people, you know how they are. Careful, right?”

Manzana nodded. He knew about Italians. When you did a deal with them, they always made sure nobody brought more guns to the table than they did. Italians had money, kept their word, but they were always tough. Israel understood.

He said, “Sure. Man gotta be careful. When my people come back, they tell me the TV’s are on the trucks, and then I let you walk out with the package.”

“Right.” Neil dialed a number, waited two rings, and heard Manny Hammonds pick up and say, “Yeah?”

“Go. It’s happening.” Neil hung up. Manny would now leave the bar where he’d been waiting, turn the corner, and meet Kirk Holmes, Katey, and another agent, the only one besides Manny who could drive a truck. After waiting ten minutes, the four would then drive the three blocks to the Casa Picadillo restaurant to complete the deal.

Israel Manzana took Neil’s arm with one neatly manicured tiny hand and walked him out of the kitchen and back into the crowded restaurant toward the bar. Neil’s street sense told him what was coming next.

“Neil, I like doin’ business with you. You got money, and you don’ argue. I mean, when we agree on a price, you don’ go back on your word. You tough, you drive a hard bargain, but you keep your word. Everybody knows this about you.”

Neil thought: Next thing you know, I’ll be getting a plaque from the Better Business Bureau. He said, “Business is business, Israel. It’s best to be a stand-up guy rather than a chump. People always remember.”

“I know, I know.” At the bar, three men who had been talking to each other slid off red-leather-covered barstools without being asked, without looking at Neil and Manzana, who took their place. “Neil, I wanna do more business with you.”

“Israel, a lot of people do. My people got plans, and they got money. We ain’t got the overseas connect like your people, but we got green, and that counts for something.”

“Yeah. You the Hundred Dollar Man, all right, and the street knows it. I’m not talking about selling you a piece, of even half a key. I’m talkin’ ’bout a lotta keys, and
white
, man. Talkin’ ’bout white.”

“Oh?”

“Swear on my mother’s grave. No white around now, you know that. You got Mexican brown comin’ out of California, outta Chicago, outta Mexico, and the guys dealin’ that shit think they own the world. But you and I know that there ain’t nothin’ a junkie want more than his white. Next year, a bunch of it’s comin’ in, and I’m gonna be holdin’ more than my share. Shit, man, I paid for it already. We all had to. Had to get up a lot of money in advance.”

Neil picked at the tinfoil wrapped around the cocaine he’d just bought. “Sounds like a tough way to do business. Couldn’t front it, huh?”

“Not this time, man. No way. All of us, the Cubans, the blacks, man, we all had to lay out money up front. Nothin’ on consignment, but the shit’s comin’ in for sure. Ain’t no way it can be stopped. Customs, feds, nobody can stop this load from coming in.”

A slim young Cuban bartender with a permanent sneer under his mustache and gold rings on both hands set a glass of red wine down in front of Manzana, then looked at Neil, who shook his head no. Neil wanted a clear head. Manzana was talking.

“Neil, what I’m sayin’ is, when I get my white, you check with me before you go to anybody else. I give you good quality, good price, maybe better than anybody else in town. Plus, since you a good customer, I give you somethin’ else. I give you, free, a piece of coke for every key of white you buy from me.” Manzana smiled, a man who had just completed his good works for the day.

Neil, not wanting to look anxious, looked at the rows of liquor and wine bottles stacked on shelves behind the bar, then into the mirror at the reflections of men coming out of the cockfights in back, men loud in their happiness and energetic in their back-patting. Winners, thought Neil, which means some poor bird’s just had his eyes pecked out of his sad little head.

Neil looked at Israel Manzana, a little rooster of a man. “Keys. You’re going to be able to do that kind of weight?”

Israel Manzana’s small hand went to his dark glasses, then he nodded again and again.

“You got my word, my friend. I’ll be able to take care of you.”

“Say I want five keys, maybe more.”

“I can do it.”

And Neil believed him, knowing what was happening. From now on, a lot of people would approach him about selling him white heroin, because he was the Hundred Dollar Man, and the dealers and distributors tied into Mas Betancourt wanted to line up customers early, to be able to quickly turn over whatever white they expected to have. Nobody wanted to hold his piece of Mas’s multimillion-dollar shipment any longer than necessary. Neil Shire was going to be a popular man.

When he heard a horn beep twice from outside, he jerked his head toward the sound, smiling at Manzana.

“C
AN’T UNDERSTAND A WORD
you’re saying,” said Neil over the telephone. “You chewing on a blanket or something?”

Lydia said, “Eatin’ chocolates. Got four boxes for Christmas, and two fruitcakes, and Jorge Dávila give me a teddy bear. You oughta see him, he’s cute.”

“Dávila? Seen him, and he ain’t that cute to me.”

She smiled, touching her lips with a small heart-shaped chocolate.

“No, you turkey. Talkin’ about the teddy bear. It’s got fuzzy pink-and-brown ears, a yellow ribbon around its neck, the bottom of its feet are white, and the eyes … oh, Neil, the eyes are the cutest thing. It’s lyin’ here on my pillow lookin’ up at me just like it wants to say somethin’.”

“I think it wants to pee. Finish telling me about René Vega, your missing cousin.”

“Oh, Neil, do I have to?”

“Lydia, you have to.”

She sighed. Talking about René meant talking about Dominic León. She shuddered, closed her eyes and leaned back in her hospital bed.

“Lydia?”

She spoke with her eyes still closed. “René called me this morning to apologize for not comin’ to see me here at the hospital. Said he had some trouble and had to keep movin’. He didn’t say anything ’bout Shana.”

“But we know, don’t we? The cops want him for snuffing her.”

“Yeah. Anyway, René needs money, and that’s why he called me. I mean, he wishes me Merry Christmas two days after Christmas is over, and he’s so nervous, I mean, he can hardly talk. He’s always had this trouble, nerves or something. He’s sorry ’bout what Dominic did to me.”

Neil said, “Sure. He tells Dominic the witch where to find you, and now he’s sorry. Fuck him.”

“Neil, he didn’t know. René didn’t mean to hurt me when he told Dominic.”

“Okay, okay. Finish.”

“I started tellin’ you that René called Dominic ’bout some money, ’bout maybe hidin’ out at his place for a few days. But Dominic, he starts talkin’ funny. Like suddenly he’s all friendly, real sweet. Tells René sure he’ll help him, give him money, let him crash at his place. But René, he’s not right in the head. He doesn’t trust Dominic. He jus’ get the feelin’ Dominic’s up to somethin’, and I tell him he’s right. I tell him Dominic’s an informant, that he’s lookin’ to get him busted.”

Neil laughed.

Lydia frowned, sitting up in bed. “What’s so funny?”

“You. You telling René that Dominic’s, well …”

“René’s my cousin. What you want me to do?”

“You had a right to do anything you wanted, especially after what that bastard did to you. Just seems funny, that’s all.”

“I don’ care.” She reached for another chocolate. “You wan’ me to finish?”

“Sure.”

“Dominic tells René he’s got somethin’ goin’ down tomorrow afternoon.”

“Say what kind of deal?”

“C.” Lydia was being careful. The telephone call was going through the hospital switchboard.

“How much?” asked Neil.

“A piece. Dominic needs to straighten out his gun deal, so he’s got to turn an ounce to get him some money.”

Neil didn’t answer her for a few seconds.

“Neil?”

“I’m still here. Doing a little thinking. When you lived with Dominic, he was dealing, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Any special place he kept his stash?”

“Hmmmm. Tryin’ to remember. Bathroom, sometimes. Get rid of it quick. Sometimes the refrigerator, dependin’ on how much we had. Once, he kept it inside the leg on the couch. Hollowed it out and … Hey, why you wanna know?”

Neil said, “Just asking. Where’s Dominic live?”

“René says on West Sixty-fourth, Hotel Elliot, one of those roomin’ houses. Neil, what are you gonna do?”

She heard him chuckle softly, and she began to worry. “Lydia, get some rest. I’ll try to get over there tomorrow.”

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow. Doctor says I’m doin’ fine. Says I’m comin’ along jus’ great. Ever since you came here Christmas Eve, everything’s been okay. I hurt some, but the swellin’s gone down, and I can see okay outta both eyes. Neil, don’ get yourself in trouble over me. I know you promised, but you gotta job, you gotta family, you can’t get in no trouble.”

“Hotel Elliot, huh?”

“Yeah, Neil—”

“Did you get my present? I dropped by yesterday evening, but you were sleeping.”

“They gave me some kinda needle. Right in the ass. I just fell out and didn’t move. Oh, I meant to thank you for the sweater, it’s beautiful. My favorite color, and you knew, right?”

“Right.”

“Must have cost you a fortune. You didn’t have to get me nothin’. I mean, I didn’t give you no present. Well, I bought somethin’, but …”

“I wish to God I’d taken it. Now Dominic’s got it, right?”

“Yeah. Copped that, some jewelry, my TV, almost two hundred in cash. Even took a bracelet I bought for Olga, and … oh, yeah, took my fur coat.”

“Son of a bitch. And he walks, right?”

Lydia nodded, not wanting to remember. “He walks. Neil?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a nice Christmas?”

She heard him snort, and she knew he hadn’t. He said, “Want me to lie, or do you want me to lie?”

“Up to you.” She knew what he was going to say. It had been building up for some time. His wife.

“Elaine and me … she’s, uh, I’m … we might be separating. Just for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” That was a lie. She was sorry for Neil, not for Elaine.

Neil said, “Had to happen. Wasn’t much of a Christmas for her. Our first in New York, and I’m on the phone to you …”

“Heard her in the background coupla times. Yellin’, screamin’ …”

“ ’Bout the size of it. Our first Christmas in New York, and I spend it on the telephone. Talking to the office, then talking to three guys hot to do deals with me, Hundred Dollar Man himself, in person, in living color. Elaine couldn’t understand it, me doing business on Christmas.”

“
I
understand. That’s your job. You gotta connect when you can.”

“You know it, and I know it, but anybody who ain’t in our world don’t know the first damn thing about working with a connect. Like you said, you gotta ride with the tide and go with the flow. Get it while you can.”

“Neil, I ain’t … I mean, I don’t wanna interfere or anything, but if you want to talk about it, if there’s anything I can do …”

He breathed into the phone for a few seconds, and Lydia held her breath, wondering if she was being stupid to even think that there could ever be anything between her and Neil. One thing for sure. Lydia was more a part of his world than his wife was. Bet on it.

“Lydia, I appreciate it, what you just said. Like I told you, me and Elaine, we were heading down that road anyway. We just got to where we were supposed to end up, that’s all. There’s always the chance we can work it out, do something. Shit, I don’t know what, but what the hell, we got to try.” To Lydia, it sounded as though Neil was saying: Anything between me and Elaine from here on out is only going through the motions.