The Fifth Man by James Lepore

million.”
    “I helped Max bury the bodies,” Matt said, addressing Tess, who remained focused and poised, like a queen, Chris thought, listening to the report of a battle.
    “Matt was supposed to go to Poland with Max,” Chris continued, “but Anna Cavanagh called and asked him for help. Her drunken husband was threatening her. That’s where Uncle Frank comes in. What happened, Matt?”
    “The husband was very drunk, or high on speed. Or both. He pulled a gun. I had no choice.”
    “Then what?”
    “I called Uncle Frank. An hour later, two guys in a pickup truck showed up,” Matt replied. “They looked like farmers. They took the body away, and all the guns and the husband’s truck.”
    “That’s it?” Chris asked.
    “They scrubbed the blood off the parking lot with some kind of solvent. I’m sorry, Dad.”
    “For what?”
    “Uncle Frank. You’re in his debt.”
    “That’s not a problem,” said Chris. “Trust me.”
    “Should I have called you ?” Matt said.
    “You can always call Uncle Frank,” Chris replied. “He works for me.”
    Now both Massi siblings were silent.
    “So,” Tess said. “What’s going on? Who’s Max French? How come we never heard of him before?”
    Chris looked at his daughter before answering. Just like that, he thought. She’s in .
    “He used to be in the FBI,” Chris replied. “Now he works for himself, and for me.”
    “Poland?” Matt asked. “That’s where we do our renditions, isn’t it?”
    “We have friends there,” Chris replied.
    “Wait,” Tess said. “Are you talking about you personally or the United States government?”
    “Both,” said Chris. “And neither.”
    Chris was looking at Tess but out of the corner of his eye he saw a quick wry smile cross Matt’s face.
    “You said Nico think s he was working for the Russian Mafia,” Tess said. “Who was he really working for?”
    “I don’t know,” Chris replied. “But I need to find out.”
    “Can we help?” Matt asked.
    “You’re in the thick of it, Matt,” Chris answered. “That’s why you’re here.”
    “Is it Marko Dravic?” Tess asked.
    “Who’s Marko Dravic?” said Matt.
    “Tess has a story of her own to tell,” Chris said. “I’m going up to shower. Tell him, Tess. I’ll see you at dinner.”
    ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
    “You killed a guy?” Tess said when Chris was gone.
    “Yes. But don’t ask me about it.”
    “Okay, but what about Anna Cavanagh, born Anna Cervenka ? Are you in love with her?”
    Matt did not reply. ‘Matt the Mute’ had been one of Tess’s nicknames for her brother when they were teenagers. When he wasn’t swaggering his idiotic Mafia-princeling swagger he was as silent as marble, and as dense, unable to formulate a coherent thought.
    “You have to be,” she said. “You killed her husband to protect her.”
    “Why the sarcasm?” Matt asked.
    “What sarcasm?”
    “Born Anna Cervenka.”
    He loves her, Tess thought; he hates her married name. And there’s something else I’m not getting. What? Does Matt have a secret?
    “He killed himself,” Matt said, without waiting for Tess to answer.
    “You mean by pulling a gun on you?” she said.
    “Yes.”
    All her life Tess had wondered what would become of Matt, the only grandson of a Mafia don on one side and a Mafia hit man on the other. Now he had killed someone. Made his bones as they used to say.
    “What’s she like, Anna Cervenka?” Tess said, shifting gears, hoping to get the thing out of her brother that she knew he was holding back. “Come on. I’m not teasing you. Are you in love with her?”
    “I just met her.”
    “That doesn’t mean anything.”
    “I don’t know, Tess. I am and I’m not.”
    “You had great sex.”
    Silence.
    “It’s a game changer, great sex.”
    Matt’s eyes darted at hers, but he remained silent.
    “Where is she now?” Tess asked.
    “She’s in New York. I gave her some money. I also got someone to watch her place.”
    “Is the money still