Johnny let the crosshairs drift over them. Acuna wore a heavy coat, thick glasses, a hat with a feather in it, leaned on a cane. If Johnny were to fire, he knew he would have to compensate for the angle, aim high, take into account the bullet’s drop. He had a sudden image of the heavy shell striking home, vaporizing skull and skin, Acuna’s body catapulting forward, nearly headless when he hit the ground.

  The two Town Car men came back out. There was a brief discussion and all five went into the shop, closed the door behind them.

  He set the gun on its side, sat back.

  “Is him?” the Russian said. The room was cold enough now that his words misted in the air.

  Johnny didn’t answer, zipped his field jacket up, buttoned the collar.

  Five minutes later, he saw Joey’s Escalade pull into the lot. It parked sideways, using two spots. The headlights went off.

  The cell phone in Johnny’s pocket trilled. He opened it.

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re here,” Lindell said.

  “I can see that. Acuna’s in there. Four others too.”

  He heard Joey take the phone.

  “You have a clear shot?” he said. Johnny could hear the tension in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “If this goes bad, I want you to open up on those motherfuckers as soon as they come out the door. All of them. You understand?”

  “Easy shots,” he said.

  “Good. ’Cause remember what I said. My uncle won’t take any chances. If I go, we all go.” The call ended.

  He put the phone on the desktop, set his cigarette on the edge, lifted the gun again, put his eye to the scope.

  For a few moments, there was no movement from the Escalade. Then both front doors opened, Lindell getting out from the driver’s side, Joey from the other. Johnny squinted into the scope, could see their breath. The back door of the shop opened, threw warm light onto the blacktop. They went to the door, spoke with someone there. Johnny could see a hand come out, touch Lindell’s chest. More talking and then Lindell turned around, went back to the Escalade. Joey went inside the shop and the door closed behind him.

  Lindell got back behind the wheel, and Johnny saw the plume of exhaust as he started the engine. Lindell would be running the heater, waiting, nervous. He let the gun rest again, took his cigarette from the edge of the desk. The cell phone rang. He picked it up.

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s in,” Lindell said.

  “I saw. You should stay off the phone. Someone’ll look out a window, see you, wonder who you’re talking to.”

  “I don’t like this, man. This waiting.”

  “No way around it. Sit tight. If they were going to take Joey out, they wouldn’t have left you outside. They would have let you go in with him, done you both.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “Follow the plan.”

  He ended the call, put the phone back on the desk.

  “What’s wrong?” the Russian said.

  Johnny shook his head, picked up the rifle, leaned into it, feeling the coldness of the stock against his cheek. Through the scope he could see figures moving behind the lighted shop windows.

  After twenty minutes, the back door opened again. Joey came out alone. He went to the Escalade, pulled open the passenger door and climbed up. The headlights came on as it pulled away.

  The phone trilled again. Johnny set the rifle down, answered it.

  “Get out of there,” Joey said, anger in his voice. “Clean the place up after yourself. Meet me at the warehouse.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you there.” He ended the call.

  Johnny looked at the phone, closed it. The Russian was on his feet, watching him.

  Johnny picked up the rifle, ejected the clip, worked the bolt to clear the breech. A shell clattered out onto the table. He fit it back into the clip.

  “We go?” the Russian said.

  “We go.”

  Joey was pacing the break room. Johnny was in the same chair he’d had last time. Lindell sat across the table, watching Joey.

  “That son of a bitch,” Joey said. “That cocksucking old bastard.”

  He picked up a metal napkin dispenser, hurled it across the room. It hit a soda machine with a loud clang, bounced off and fell to the floor.

  “What’s the deal?” Johnny said. “How much?”

  Joey wheeled on him.

  “How much? Two hundred and fifty fucking K, that’s how much. Can you believe that?”

  “Could be worse.” He took his cigarettes out. “A couple days ago you were worried about even coming out of there alive.”

  “That’s beside the point. That old bastard wants two hundred five from me—my money, that I’ve earned—to keep the peace.”

  “It’s the nature of the business,” Johnny said. “You kick up.”

  “‘Kick up’? Fuck him. What did he ever do for me?”

  “I don’t see you having a lot of options.”

  “Options? How about I option to take out that old man and his whole fucking crew?”

  Lindell looked up. Johnny turned away, looked out the window into the bay.

  “And I could do it too,” Joey said, quieter now. “I’ve got the muscle, the people. I could do it.”

  Johnny lit his cigarette.

  “Don’t talk nonsense,” he said.

  “What did you say?”

  Johnny let smoke out, looked up at him.

  “Two hundred and fifty grand,” he said. “It’s not worth it. Pay him. Get it over with.”

  “Pay him? You fucking pay him.”

  “It’s a one-shot deal. Get the money together, give it to him. It keeps the peace, lets him know you’re a serious player, lets you stay in business with his blessing. He’s not going to be around forever.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  “You talk like that and people hear you, you might not be around very long yourself. Give him the money, consider it an insurance payment, an expense. You’ll earn it back triple within a couple years.”

  “It’s not your money.”

  “You’re right,” Johnny said. “It’s not. You want to go after him, start taking out his guys? Just say the word. I’ll do it. But I’m telling you I don’t think it’s a good idea. You think about it awhile, you’ll realize I’m right.”

  Joey turned away, looked out through the glass.

  “When does he want it?” Lindell said.

  “Four days from now,” Joey said. “Can you believe that? Four days to get that kind of money together and give it to him. Who the fuck does he think I am?”

  “He thinks you’re somebody that can raise that kind of money in four days,” Johnny said. “Which means he knows you’re serious, that you’re for real. Play it right, Joey, you’ll come out of this way ahead.”

  “And what’s to keep him from whacking me as soon as I hand it over? I get the money up, give it to him, one of his fucking guys pops me, I end up buried at a chicken farm. What’s to keep that from happening?”

  “Me,” Johnny said. “I watch your back. I take the money to him myself if need be. Keep you safe. If he knows you can get the money, are capable of coming up with it, he won’t fuck with you in the interim, endanger that.”

  “You sound like you’re sure about that.”

  “I am,” he said.

  29

  “You really think this is necessary?” she said.

  She set her suitcase down on the floor. Harry got up from the Italian couch. Errol was on the other side of the room, looking at the titles of books on the shelf.

  “He followed me,” Harry said. “He knows where you live.”

  He picked up the suitcase, felt a jolt of pain in his knee.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she said.

  “Later. Let’s get moving.”

  “Where are you taking her?” Reggie said from the kitchen doorway. Behind him, Harry could see Jack at the kitchen table. He’d been fighting tears since they’d arrived. “We have a right to know.”

  “No, you don’t,” Harry said. “And it’s better for you if you don’t. Might be a good idea if the two of you thought about going somewhere yourself for a couple weeks.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “He knows about this place. He’ll come back, looking for her.”

  “I wish he would. Then I’d settle this whole thing.”

  “Maybe,” Harry said. “Maybe not.”

  “She’s safer here.”

  “Please, Reggie,” Nikki said.

  He looked at Harry, his anger unconcealed, went back into the kitchen.

  Errol had taken a book off the shelf, was paging through it. Harry could see the title: Sodomy and the Pirate Tradition.

  “Who’s paying for the hotel?” she said.

  “Ray, at the moment. It’s a place he uses, puts people up. Can you get the door for me?”

  He carried the suitcase out to the station wagon, stowed it in the back. She followed him out.

  “Jack hates to see people leaving,” she said. “It upsets him.”

  “I understand.”

  He shut the tailgate, nodded at the house.

  “I wasn’t joking,” he said. “They should go somewhere. It would be better. You should talk to them.”

  “I will … but Reggie—the both of them—can be pretty stubborn sometimes.”

  “Not a good quality in this situation.”

  She reached up, touched his cheek gingerly.

  “Did he do that?” she said.

  He moved her wrist away gently.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get the rest of your stuff.”

  They went back inside. Errol shook his head, closed the book, replaced it on the shelf.

  “I need to get a couple more things upstairs,” she said, “then say good-bye to Jack and Reggie.”

  “We’ll wait outside,” Harry said. “Warm the car up.”

  Out in the station wagon, Harry at the wheel, Errol said, “That true, what you said? About that blond guy being an actor? Making those movies?”

  “That’s what I heard. Why, you find him attractive?”

  “I’ll forget you said that.”

  Harry turned the heater up, raced the engine.

  “He don’t look like much,” Errol said. “Built like a mop handle and you couldn’t call him pretty. Must have a big one.”

  “Ask Reggie.”

  “Thanks, but that definitely falls into the too-much-information category. That’s an image I can do without.”

  “You asked.”

  They watched her come out of the house, carrying a shoulder purse.

  “That is a fine-looking woman, though,” Errol said.

  She pulled open the back door, got in.

  “Ready to go?” Harry said. “Get everything you needed?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It just feels strange, leaving like this. This is the first real home I’ve had in a long while.”

  “You’ll be back,” he said.

  The hotel was off Route 35 in Old Bridge. She used the key card to open the door, held it for him. He set the suitcase on the bed.

  “You can call out,” he said, “but don’t give anyone this number or tell them where you’re staying. That includes Jack and Reggie.”

  “They’ll be worried.”

  “Give them my number. They can call me, I’ll tell them what they need to know, get a message back to you if that’s the issue.”

  “That sounds like a roundabout way of doing things.”

  “It’s the safest.”

  He went over to the window, looked down onto the parking lot.

  “How am I supposed to get around?” she said. “I’m sure that T.G.I. Friday’s downstairs is a delight, but I’ll get a little tired of it after a while, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll be around. Take you where you need to go. That includes meals too.”

  “So you’re going to stop by, take care of all my needs?”

  He saw her half smile, felt himself blush.

  “Errol’s waiting,” he said. “There’s some things we need to do. I’ll call you later tonight, see how you’re doing.”

  “That’s something to look forward to, I guess.”

  “In the meantime, any questions, problems, just call.”

  “I only have one question so far,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “How long do I have to stay here?”

  “I don’t know. Until this is over.”

  “Over? Will it ever be?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It will.”

  They waited in semidarkness, only one light on in the living room. Harry sat in shadow, Errol in the light, half-asleep, feet propped up on an ottoman. Reggie and Jack were in the kitchen, cleaning up from the late dinner they’d made.

  The phone on the coffee table rang. Errol looked up.

  It rang again. Harry leaned forward. He was aware of Reggie and Jack in the kitchen doorway.

  He picked it up on the third ring, said, “Right on time.”

  Silence on the line.

  “What’s wrong, sport?” Harry said. “Forget what you were going to say?”

  Errol was watching him, frowning.

  “Is she there?” Harrow said.

  “No. She’s gone. Just you and me now.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah.” He touched his split lip.

  “Then that’s bad news for you, sport. Like I said, the next time you won’t even see me coming. Just pop, pop and that’s it.”

  “Any time,” Harry said. “Any place.”

  “It’ll happen,” Harrow said. “Sooner than you think.” He hung up.

  30

  They were headed south on Route 34, Connor driving his unmarked Crown Victoria. He’d picked Johnny up at the motel, stopped for coffee at a Dunkin’ Donuts along the way. Their cups rested in plastic holders on the console. Connor had turned the police radio off when Johnny got in, and they’d driven the last few miles in silence.

  “Under the seat,” Connor said.

  Johnny looked at him, then reached under, felt the cardboard box there.

  “Go ahead,” Connor said. “Have a look.”

  He pulled the box out, opened it on his lap. Inside, nestled in bubble wrap, was a microcassette recorder. Beside it, coiled and bound with a black twist tie, was a thin cord and a tiny microphone.

  “Voice-activated,” Connor said. “Microphone can go in your jacket, collar, anywhere. I can show you how to rig it up. Take five minutes. They have newer models now, wireless, but this one was sort of borrowed off the books, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m supposed to wear this?”

  “Like I said, it takes five minutes to put on. After you get comfortable with it, you’ll forget it’s there. You have to tape it on, though. I’ll show you how to do that as well. You’ll need to shave in a couple places, make it easier to get the tape on and off.”

  “So you’re solo on this, huh?”

  “Far as it goes. When things develop, I’ll bring my SAC in. Not until I have some of those tapes in hand, though. Last thing I need is a clusterfuck, other people trying to horn in.”

  Johnny closed the box, slid it back under the seat, took his coffee from the console.

  “There’s extra tapes in there too. I’ll show you how to load it.”

  Johnny peeled the plastic lid back, steam rising out, sipped.

  “You do anything with that address I gave you?” Connor said.

  Johnny shook his head.

  “Maybe it’s better if you don’t. Ever think about that?”

  Connor pulled into a strip mall, parked, took the lid off his coffee. The nut smell of it filled the car.

  “The people you work for,” Johnny said, “how much they know about me?”

  “Like I said, they know I’m working a CI. But your name’s not in the files. Nobody knows who you are.”

  “That the way things are normally done? Or am I special?”

  “I did what I thought was best.”

  “And when Joey goes down, you get the credit. No one else.”

  “I don’t deserve it? All I did? I recruited you, got you out of Belle Glades, cut the deal. I gave you two years of life you would have pissed away down there otherwise. I did that. No one else.”

  “Seems odd, that’s all. You doing this on your own.”

  “Let me worry about that. I have my reasons.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you do. Don’t get me wrong. I respect a man that looks out for himself.”

  “There’s a flip side to that too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “By Department of Justice guidelines, if an informant is involved in a ‘serious act of violence,’ as they put it, the agent in charge is required to consider closing his file and targeting him for arrest.”

  “Consider? That’s all?”

  “That’s the way it’s written. Now, I don’t know exactly what you’re doing for Alea on a day-to-day basis, but I imagine you’re not selling real estate, you know? Any other agent, you would have been closed down, probably be back in Glades already.”

  “I’m never going back to Glades.”

  “You sound pretty certain of that.”

  “I am.”

  “I’m just trying to give you the whole picture. There’s more to it than you think.”

  Connor looked out the window. Johnny sipped coffee.

  “I’ll take you back,” Connor said. “Show you how to set that rig up so you can do it yourself. When is he going to meet with Acuna?”

  “Day after tomorrow. We’ll know the place soon.”

  “Close as you can get, John. And as much as you can get.”

  “I understand.”

  Connor put his coffee back in the holder, put the car in gear.

  “Do this my way, John, and we’ll both come out of it with what we want.”

  “I believe you,” Johnny said.

  The travel agency was in Freehold and catered to Central American immigrants and illegal workers. There were signs in the window offering phone cards, check cashing, money transfers. He chose it because he knew they would take cash, ask no questions. The heavy Latin man at the counter watched as Johnny counted the bills out, took them without a word.