Jackie?”
“What?”
Chase toed number two and said, “Repeat.”
But the guy didn't. He was out cold.
There were sirens coming, but there were always sirens coming. Chase pocketed both pistols, got back in the limo, got out again and pulled the squeegeeguy away far enough so he wouldn't get run over one more time, climbed in and took off. The cops would never catch on. The madam would plead ignorance, never give a straight answer, speak in pidgin. The description of the stretch wouldn't help at all in Manhattan, and the two hitters would be questioned, released, and the next time they got sent up they'd get laughed right out of Rikers. Or Bishop would bury them.
Y ou need to leave town,” Chase told Jackie, thinking, Here's my chance.
Jackie was out in left field. For a guy who'd grown up in a mob house his mother must've kept him completely insulated, always sending him off for milk and cookies whenever the heavy action went down.
Jackie might've heard him, Chase couldn't tell.
“You need to snap to it and get on the ball,” Chase said.
“What?”
“Wake up, come on.”
Jackie made himself a drink, disturbed enough to add four ice cubes this time, that's how fucked he was. He filled the glass with JD, four fingers. “Who did this? Whose men were they?”
“Who do you think? Who knew you were coming to get walked on today?”
“Nobody,” Jackie said, his eyes receding into his head.
“Think about that answer.”
“Nobody, I tell you, there's nobody. There's never anybody.”
“The butler knew.”
“Porteroy?”
“The butler's name is Porteroy?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit.”
Wagging his head in disbelief, Chase figured Porteroy was playing the game just like Cessy. His name was probably Harvey Glupman from Passaic. Chase said, “If he knew, then everybody could know. You need to get out.”
“What?”
Chase didn't really give a shit about Jackie, but he also didn't want to be personally responsible for killing the mook, especially not after saving his life already today. Plus, if he could get Jackie to jump, then a little cash might fall out of his pockets.
“You need to run for it.”
“Run? Run where? I can't go anyplace. Where am I supposed to go? My father hasn't even been buried yet.”
“You told me you didn't want to go into the ground with him.” Chase figured Jackie, like most wiseguys, would never believe that his own blood would come gunning for him. “That was Elkins. This was an inside job, don't you see that?”
“See that it was an inside job? Elkins? You think it was one of my own troops? That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“I trust them implicitly.”
Chase tried not to sigh. Some people didn't want to be saved. They wanted to go over the side of a sailboat into the icy water and merge with the depths of their heartache and absurdity.
“You trust everyone? Even me? You even know all the names of your crew? Jackie, those two guys we just left out there work for you.”
“That's impossible.”
“The estate is no longer safe for you. You need to pack it in, hide out, until you clean house. You got a place you can hole up for a couple of weeks until you've found your rats?”
“They might hurt my sister. Or my mother. I have to stay and take care of things.”
Chase knew that he could explain it to Jackie for ten hours and the guy would never get it. He would never believe his sister was behind it, that she was already running the crew, and had been since Lenny got sick. Jackie could never imagine that Sherry might ace him, not even when she came up to him with that .38 and put it between his eyes.
“Your sister isn't the one they want, Jackie. Neither is your mother. It's you. You're the head of the family. They'll be fine.”
“I can't leave. My father's funeral is tomorrow.”
“If you stay, they'll toss you in the box with him.”
“Stop saying shit like that!”
It wasn't going to work, the way Chase was playing it. Jackie couldn't face
“What?”
Chase toed number two and said, “Repeat.”
But the guy didn't. He was out cold.
There were sirens coming, but there were always sirens coming. Chase pocketed both pistols, got back in the limo, got out again and pulled the squeegeeguy away far enough so he wouldn't get run over one more time, climbed in and took off. The cops would never catch on. The madam would plead ignorance, never give a straight answer, speak in pidgin. The description of the stretch wouldn't help at all in Manhattan, and the two hitters would be questioned, released, and the next time they got sent up they'd get laughed right out of Rikers. Or Bishop would bury them.
Y ou need to leave town,” Chase told Jackie, thinking, Here's my chance.
Jackie was out in left field. For a guy who'd grown up in a mob house his mother must've kept him completely insulated, always sending him off for milk and cookies whenever the heavy action went down.
Jackie might've heard him, Chase couldn't tell.
“You need to snap to it and get on the ball,” Chase said.
“What?”
“Wake up, come on.”
Jackie made himself a drink, disturbed enough to add four ice cubes this time, that's how fucked he was. He filled the glass with JD, four fingers. “Who did this? Whose men were they?”
“Who do you think? Who knew you were coming to get walked on today?”
“Nobody,” Jackie said, his eyes receding into his head.
“Think about that answer.”
“Nobody, I tell you, there's nobody. There's never anybody.”
“The butler knew.”
“Porteroy?”
“The butler's name is Porteroy?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit.”
Wagging his head in disbelief, Chase figured Porteroy was playing the game just like Cessy. His name was probably Harvey Glupman from Passaic. Chase said, “If he knew, then everybody could know. You need to get out.”
“What?”
Chase didn't really give a shit about Jackie, but he also didn't want to be personally responsible for killing the mook, especially not after saving his life already today. Plus, if he could get Jackie to jump, then a little cash might fall out of his pockets.
“You need to run for it.”
“Run? Run where? I can't go anyplace. Where am I supposed to go? My father hasn't even been buried yet.”
“You told me you didn't want to go into the ground with him.” Chase figured Jackie, like most wiseguys, would never believe that his own blood would come gunning for him. “That was Elkins. This was an inside job, don't you see that?”
“See that it was an inside job? Elkins? You think it was one of my own troops? That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“I trust them implicitly.”
Chase tried not to sigh. Some people didn't want to be saved. They wanted to go over the side of a sailboat into the icy water and merge with the depths of their heartache and absurdity.
“You trust everyone? Even me? You even know all the names of your crew? Jackie, those two guys we just left out there work for you.”
“That's impossible.”
“The estate is no longer safe for you. You need to pack it in, hide out, until you clean house. You got a place you can hole up for a couple of weeks until you've found your rats?”
“They might hurt my sister. Or my mother. I have to stay and take care of things.”
Chase knew that he could explain it to Jackie for ten hours and the guy would never get it. He would never believe his sister was behind it, that she was already running the crew, and had been since Lenny got sick. Jackie could never imagine that Sherry might ace him, not even when she came up to him with that .38 and put it between his eyes.
“Your sister isn't the one they want, Jackie. Neither is your mother. It's you. You're the head of the family. They'll be fine.”
“I can't leave. My father's funeral is tomorrow.”
“If you stay, they'll toss you in the box with him.”
“Stop saying shit like that!”
It wasn't going to work, the way Chase was playing it. Jackie couldn't face
Similar Books
