brow furrowed for a moment and then a smile began to spread across his face. "You know what you're gonna die of, Chet? A flicking ulcer--that's what you're going to die of. Now, quit being such a dumb-ass and let's go. We're gonna be late."
When he started walking again, Chet didn't follow. The speech had seemed sincere, but was it?
Gasta stepped into an open elevator and turned around. "Jesus Christ! Would you get in the goddamn elevator?"
Chet finally convinced his legs to move and he walked slowly forward, taking a deep breath before stepping through the elevator doors. Gasta stuck a key into a slot above the buttons and they started up.
When the doors opened, it was onto a generic but well-maintained hall. They walked past a number of large doors with business names stenciled on them, finally stopping at one belonging to the First Federal Development Bank. Gasta pulled another key out and they went inside.
The outer office was dark and empty, but there was a dim light coming from an open door at the back of it. Gasta straightened his jacket and squared his shoulders, then started forward.
Chet followed his boss into the inner office, trying to take everything in so that he could remember important details later. Overall there wasn't much to look at: a desk, a few chairs, and some pictures that you could buy already framed at Kmart. The only illumination was provided by a single desk lamp that had been turned slightly toward the door, creating an uncomfortable glare.
Gasta sat in a chair in front of the desk and Chet took a position behind him. It would look properly subservient, but he actually figured it as the best spot to see around the glare and get a look at the man sitting behind the desk. He seemed tall, with dark hair kind of slicke d back. His shoulders were extremely broad and heavy-looking through the deliberately formless jacket he was wearing. Probably muscle and not fat, but it was impossible to be certain. His face had no features prominent enough to be obvious in the bad light and was partially obscured by large tinted glasses.
"Who the hell is this, Carlo?" The man's voice was cold, but the anger beneath it was obvious.
"This is Chet. I told you about him."
"Why is he here?" This time the words were spoken through clenched teeth.
"He's my new right hand--handling a lot of the business end for me now. All he does is worry, but he's smart as shit. I thought you two should meet."
Chet ignored the compliment, still trying to identify the man behind the desk. He wasn't a player in any of the New York families--of that, Chet was certain. A drug lord he wasn't aware of, maybe? A greedy investment banker that Carlo had met through one of his celebrity playmates?
"You thought we should meet," the man growled. "Relax, John. He's okay. I'd trust him with my life, all right?"
Chet was only half listening at this point, focusing on concocting a plan to get close to the man sitting in front of him. Was this the mysterious source of Carlo Gasta's money? "You trust your life to anyone you want, Carlo, but I make my own decisions about who I deal with. Do you understand me?"
Gasta nodded and stared at his feet.
"Now, get him the hell out of here."
Gasta twisted around and waved toward the door. "You heard him. Get the fuck out."
"Goddamn it!" Gasta shouted. It was the first sound he'd uttered since climbing into the Corvette and pulling out of the parking garage. Chet's ears actually rang a bit from the sudden volume of it as he watched Gasta pound on the dashboard. Obviously the meeting hadn't gone as planned.
Kyle Mill s "You okay, Carlo?"
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!"
Chet leaned his head against the window and looked out at a police barricade set up in front of a sprawling hospital. He'd heard the new threat by the asshole with the rocket launcher on the radio earlier that day. It seemed he was considering blowing up a hospital now. According to the news, seriously ill people all over the
When he started walking again, Chet didn't follow. The speech had seemed sincere, but was it?
Gasta stepped into an open elevator and turned around. "Jesus Christ! Would you get in the goddamn elevator?"
Chet finally convinced his legs to move and he walked slowly forward, taking a deep breath before stepping through the elevator doors. Gasta stuck a key into a slot above the buttons and they started up.
When the doors opened, it was onto a generic but well-maintained hall. They walked past a number of large doors with business names stenciled on them, finally stopping at one belonging to the First Federal Development Bank. Gasta pulled another key out and they went inside.
The outer office was dark and empty, but there was a dim light coming from an open door at the back of it. Gasta straightened his jacket and squared his shoulders, then started forward.
Chet followed his boss into the inner office, trying to take everything in so that he could remember important details later. Overall there wasn't much to look at: a desk, a few chairs, and some pictures that you could buy already framed at Kmart. The only illumination was provided by a single desk lamp that had been turned slightly toward the door, creating an uncomfortable glare.
Gasta sat in a chair in front of the desk and Chet took a position behind him. It would look properly subservient, but he actually figured it as the best spot to see around the glare and get a look at the man sitting behind the desk. He seemed tall, with dark hair kind of slicke d back. His shoulders were extremely broad and heavy-looking through the deliberately formless jacket he was wearing. Probably muscle and not fat, but it was impossible to be certain. His face had no features prominent enough to be obvious in the bad light and was partially obscured by large tinted glasses.
"Who the hell is this, Carlo?" The man's voice was cold, but the anger beneath it was obvious.
"This is Chet. I told you about him."
"Why is he here?" This time the words were spoken through clenched teeth.
"He's my new right hand--handling a lot of the business end for me now. All he does is worry, but he's smart as shit. I thought you two should meet."
Chet ignored the compliment, still trying to identify the man behind the desk. He wasn't a player in any of the New York families--of that, Chet was certain. A drug lord he wasn't aware of, maybe? A greedy investment banker that Carlo had met through one of his celebrity playmates?
"You thought we should meet," the man growled. "Relax, John. He's okay. I'd trust him with my life, all right?"
Chet was only half listening at this point, focusing on concocting a plan to get close to the man sitting in front of him. Was this the mysterious source of Carlo Gasta's money? "You trust your life to anyone you want, Carlo, but I make my own decisions about who I deal with. Do you understand me?"
Gasta nodded and stared at his feet.
"Now, get him the hell out of here."
Gasta twisted around and waved toward the door. "You heard him. Get the fuck out."
"Goddamn it!" Gasta shouted. It was the first sound he'd uttered since climbing into the Corvette and pulling out of the parking garage. Chet's ears actually rang a bit from the sudden volume of it as he watched Gasta pound on the dashboard. Obviously the meeting hadn't gone as planned.
Kyle Mill s "You okay, Carlo?"
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!"
Chet leaned his head against the window and looked out at a police barricade set up in front of a sprawling hospital. He'd heard the new threat by the asshole with the rocket launcher on the radio earlier that day. It seemed he was considering blowing up a hospital now. According to the news, seriously ill people all over the
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