Текст книги "Naked Greed"

Автор книги: Stuart Woods

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Gene Ryan woke on Saturday morning, his mouth dry, his head hurting and very fuzzy around the edges. It took him a minute to realize that it was his cell phone that had awakened him. “Hello?” Ryan croaked.

“Hey, Gene, it’s Al. How you doin’?”

“What time is it?”

“Hey, as bad as that, is it? It’s after nine—AM.”

“Shit.”

“Listen, I need to talk to you about something. Meet me at that diner down the block from you in an hour. I’ll buy you brunch.”

“What’s this about?”

“Work.” Al hung up.

–

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Ryan shuffled into the diner and located Al in a corner booth. “Coffee,” he said to the passing waitress, then joined Al.

“This better be good,” Ryan said as he slid into the booth. “Getting me up at the crack of dawn.”

Al laughed at that. They ordered breakfast and chatted idly. When the food was set on the table, Al got down to business.

“I got something sweet.”

“How sweet?”

“Maybe a hundred and a half—you and me take eighty percent.”

“Who gets the other twenty?”

“My cousin Vinny, like the movie.”

“What’s the job?”

“A poker game, a fat one. I’ve been playing in it for three weeks. Sometimes there’s two hundred grand changing hands.”

“Tell me more.”

“It’s in a pretty good motel on 17 North. The room is on the ground floor with two doors. The back one leads to the alley where they pick up the garbage. Six guys, all of them businessmen, no wise guys.”

“Go on.”

“I’m at the table, you and Vinny come in the two doors, you’ve got that sawed-off shotgun of yours. That will scare the shit out of everybody.”

“Are you carrying?”

“Nope, I’m a victim. You make everybody empty their pockets onto the table, then take the table blanket, cards, money, and all, and beat it out the back door, where Vinny has a car stashed. We meet at your place, as soon as I can get out, and divvy the money.”

“How do I know Vinny can handle this?”

“Because I say so. He’s a cool kid—it’s not his first job.”

“Are you the newest guy in the game?”

“There’s one newer by a week.”

“How’ve you been doing?”

“I’m up a couple grand for the three weeks. One of the players brought in a pro dealer, who, turns out, is a mechanic. I figure tonight I’ll win pretty big, and next week, they’ll lower the boom on me. Except you and me and Vinny will already have lowered the boom on them.”

“Okay, I’m in. When?”

“Tonight.”

“That’s not much time for planning.”

“The planning is all done. You just heard my plan.” Al looked toward the door. “Here comes Vinny.”

Vinny was lean and obscenely barbered, with a fashionable two days of stubble. He didn’t say much.

“I told him the plan,” Al said.

“I like the plan,” Ryan said, “but Vinny has got to understand: nobody gets hurt. No shooting, no blows to the head. This is an illegal game, so nobody is calling the cops—unless somebody gets hurt, then we’re in the shit.”

“Got it,” Vinny said. It was the first time he had spoken.

–

Ryan went back to his apartment, got a duffel off the top shelf of his closet, and dumped the shotgun onto the bed. It was an old-fashioned, open-hammer scattergun with the barrel sawed off to about four inches. Vinny had fired it into a target: from ten feet it had a pattern the size of a basketball.

He cleaned the weapon, dropped a couple of double-ought shells into it, and closed it. It couldn’t fire until he pulled back the hammers.

–

Al dropped off Vinny at his mother’s house. “You okay with Gene?” he asked the young man.

“No problem, I guess.”

“You guess? What does that mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“You do understand why nobody gets hurt?”

“Yeah, nobody gets hurt, nobody calls the cops. But, Al . . .”

“Yeah?”

“What if somebody’s packin’?”

“Don’t worry about it. Nobody in this crowd packs.”

“If you say so,” Vinny replied. “But if somebody draws, we’re in a whole new poker game.”

Al sat at the poker table and glanced at his hand again. He raised. The dealer dealt another card, and Al watched his face instead of his hands. He had already learned that the guy was too good a mechanic to make a move you could see. His face was something else, though. As he dealt Al’s next card there was a tiny smile.

Al forced himself not to look at his watch, on being completely caught up in the game. He wanted to be as surprised as everyone else at the table. When the two doors were simultaneously kicked in, he flinched with the best of them and looked around. Two men in masks and black clothes came into the room, one with a semiautomatic pistol held out in front of him and the other with a mean-looking sawed-off shotgun.

“Hands on the table, everybody!” Ryan shouted, and for emphasis, he cocked both hammers of the shotgun.

Al went back to looking at the dealer, and as he placed his hands on the table, the butt of a pistol revealed itself under his jacket. Oh, no, Al thought.

Vinny was methodically emptying the pockets of the players, while Ryan moved the shotgun back and forth, as if spraying the men at the table.

Al saw a flicker of a move of the dealer’s right hand, and he caught the man’s eye and slowly shook his head. That stopped the man long enough for Vinny to discover the pistol. It was a snub-nosed .38, and he thumbed open the cylinder and shook the cartridges out onto the table. Al heard somebody say, “Shit!” but he wasn’t sure who.

Vinny began wrapping the money, the cards, and the cartridges in the blanket, then he nodded at Ryan, who let go a single, deafening round into the ceiling, showering everyone with pieces of acoustic tiles. The two men ran out the rear door, and a moment later, Al heard the car’s tires squeal as it drove down the alley.

People seemed reluctant to move for a moment. “They’re gone,” somebody said.

Al turned to face the dealer. “You,” he said, “you nearly got somebody killed.”

“Fuck you,” the dealer snarled.

–

After a change of cars and a dumping of their clothes, Ryan let them into his apartment and tossed the bundle onto the couch.

“I want to see it,” Vinny said, making a move.

“Not until Al gets here,” Ryan said. “That was the deal.”

“He’s going to be at least an hour,” Vinny said.

Ryan switched on the TV and found an old movie. “Watch and learn,” he said. “It’ll make the time fly.”

Al arrived at the apartment just before two AM. “Sorry,” he said, as Ryan let him in, “I had to drink with them, or they’d have suspected something. A couple of them were looking at me funny, until I pointed out to them that I was the big loser.”

He opened the blanket, and they stared at the pile of money. “I had twenty grand on the table,” Al said. “I get that out first.” He quickly counted the money, while Ryan and Vinny sorted the bills by denomination and kept a running tally on a shirt cardboard.

“I make it two hundred and twenty-two grand,” Ryan said, “give or take.”

“Vinny,” Al said, “you just made yourself forty-four grand.” He counted out the money.

“You guys made more,” Vinny said.

“You set up the jobs and do the planning, and you’ll make more,” Al said.

“Somebody give me a lift to my mom’s house?” Vinny said, getting to his feet.

“Sure,” Al said, getting up. “We’re all beat. Remember, no flashy spending for a while. Give it a month before you buy anything noticeable.” He led Vinny to his car and told him to get into the rear seat. “Stay down,” he said. “I don’t want anybody seeing us together.”

“Right,” Vinny said. “You got something else for us soon, Al?”

“Maybe,” Al said. “You don’t want to pull a rash of jobs. You got cash, take your girl to the city for dinner and a show.”

“Right.”

Al deposited Vinny on his doorstep, after a good look around, then drove away.

–

Ryan still wasn’t ready to sleep. He turned on New York One, the 24/7 cable news channel. He was half asleep when he heard a name that jerked him awake.

“Police Commissioner Dino Bacchetti worked late tonight,” the reporter said, “and got home late to his Park Avenue apartment.” Ryan watched as Bacchetti got out of a black SUV and walked under an awning into his building. He saw the building number on the awning. This was Barrington’s buddy, who rousted him outside the restaurant and made him spend a night in the can. Barrington had been hard to find lately, but now he knew where to look for his friend.

Bacchetti would do.

Ryan came back from his test-drive of a two-year-old Triumph Bonneville Black motorcycle and made the man an offer. After some haggling, he shelled out five grand for the machine, got the paperwork, and got the hell out of there. He was in Manhattan in half an hour.

The TV news show he’d watched during the wee hours had said that Bacchetti attended Mass on Sunday mornings, but not where. Ryan planned to see him either coming or going.

He eased the bike into a spot between two cars on East Sixty-third Street, locked the machine, and took the shotgun from the saddle bag and concealed it under his biker jacket. He didn’t take off the helmet.

–

Dino showered, shaved, and got into a suit. The doorman rang as he was checking his tie, and he told the man to tell his detective that he’d be right down. It was ten-thirty, plenty of time to schmooze on the steps of the church. He’d been advised when he was sworn in that he should be seen in public around town often, and he’d managed to do so.

He left the elevator and walked briskly through the lobby, greeting the doorman and his detective, Bobby Calabrese. He could see his car at the end of the awning.

–

Ryan had seen the black SUV pull up to the building and the plainclothes cop get out of it and go inside. He’d been waiting for less than half an hour, and he’d gotten it right.

–

Dino walked out of the building, and all hell broke loose.

–

Stone and Pat were having a late brunch by the pool when his cell phone rang.

“Oh, turn it off,” Pat said. “Nothing important ever happens on a Sunday morning.”

Stone looked at the phone. “It’s Joan, she wouldn’t call if it weren’t important. Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Joan. Something’s happened to Dino.” She sounded breathless.

“Just slow down and tell me what you know.”

“I had the TV on, and there was a report that Dino was shot on the sidewalk outside his apartment building. They’ve said nothing since.”

“I’m on my way,” Stone said. “Call again if you get more information. We’ll be in the air in half an hour, and you can reach me on the satphone.” He looked at his watch. “Ask Fred to meet us at Teterboro at three PM.”

“Got it.” She hung up.

“Something wrong?” Pat asked.

“It’s Dino—something’s happened. Get packed, we’re leaving in ten minutes.” He got up and ran for their cottage, with Pat right behind.

She filed a flight plan for Teterboro as they drove to the airport, and they each took half the airplane for the preflight inspection.

Stone was frightened of the phone call that might come at any moment. He had tried to reach Viv, and the call had gone directly to voice mail. He got his IFR clearance and taxied to the runway while Pat entered the flight plan into the computer. He was cleared for takeoff, and as he lined up on the runway, he tried to get everything out of his mind but flying the airplane. He pushed the throttles forward, and Pat called the airspeed for him.

“Rotate,” she said, and he did. He got the gear and flaps up, engaged the autopilot at 450 feet, and pressed the flight level button to climb to his first assigned altitude of 16,000 feet. He was halfway there when he got his clearance to cruising altitude of flight level 410. The autopilot did the rest, while he ran through his checklists and tried not to think about what awaited him in New York.

He was over Orlando when the satphone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Joan. There’s more, and it’s not good. He was shot, and the reports say it was a head wound. A detective with him was shot, too, and they were both taken to a hospital. They didn’t say which one.”

“It’ll either be New York Hospital or Lenox Hill,” Stone said. “Try and find out and let Fred know.” He hung up and tuned in XM rado, a news channel. Not a word about Dino for the remainder of the flight.

He flew the ILS 6 into Teterboro and taxied to Jet Aviation. As they approached the terminal, he could see Fred waiting on the ramp. Five minutes after shutdown they were in the car.

“The commissioner is at New York Hospital,” Fred said.

“Drop me there, then take Pat home.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Pat asked.

“Not a thing. I’m sorry our weekend got interrupted.”

“You go do what you have to do. I’ll go sit by the TV.”

Stone got out of the car, ran into the emergency room, and flashed his badge at the admissions clerk. “Where’s the commissioner?” he asked. She told him, and he ran for the elevator. There was a knot of uniforms gathered in the hallway, and Stone spotted Dino’s chief of detectives, Dan Harrigan, and pulled him aside.

“Dino’s in surgery,” Harrigan said without being asked. “Viv is on her way in from L.A. with the mayor. They were both at a security conference out there. They’re on Mike Freeman’s airplane and should be here soon.”

Stone flopped into a chair, closed his eyes, and waited. Soon, he was being shaken awake. Viv was sitting beside him. “He’s out of surgery,” she said. “The doctor will be out here in a minute.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I’m half out of my mind!”

“Yeah, I know. I was in Key West when I got the word from Joan. We landed an hour ago.”

“Mike and the mayor will be here in a minute.” She looked around. “This is a real zoo, isn’t it? I haven’t seen this many uniforms in one place since the last . . .” She stopped.

“Inspector’s funeral,” Stone finished for her.

She laughed, then a man in green scrubs appeared and introduced himself as Dr. Gordon. “It went well,” he said. “He’s out of surgery and in the ICU. You can see him, if you want to, but I’m keeping him out for a few hours to let the swelling go down. He wouldn’t be able to talk.”

“I want to see him,” she said.

He led her away, and she came back a couple of minutes later. “I’m sorry I saw him,” she said. They were led into a VIP suite with a living room attached to a hospital room. A bed and a lot of equipment awaited Dino. The doctor came with them and sat them down. “Let me tell you what we’ve got here,” he said. “I’m no ME, but I’ve treated hundreds of gunshot wounds, and this is the oddest one I’ve seen.”

“Odd how?” Viv asked.

“This is how it went down, from what I’ve been told. Dino was coming out of the building with his detective, when a man in a motorcycle helmet and jacket appeared with a very short sawed-off shotgun. He fired both barrels from about twenty feet. The detective got the worst of it in the shoulder. He’s in surgery down the hall now and will be okay, after a lot of physical therapy. Dino was farther from the shooter than the detective by a few feet, and the shot pattern was expanding. There are nine pellets in a double-ought twelve-gauge shotgun shell. The detective caught half a dozen, Dino caught four—three in the side of his head and one that penetrated the soft tissue of his cheek and lodged in his tongue. He spat that out on the way to the hospital. That’s why his tongue is so swollen.

“Dino was very lucky. The pellets in his head stopped at the skull and didn’t penetrate or even fracture it. Those wounds are superficial and will heal quickly. He suffered a concussion but will be just fine, believe me. He’ll be walking and talking by tomorrow. I suggest you go home and get some rest, then come back first thing tomorrow morning. He won’t be awake until then.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “Stone, I’ll take the sofa, you take the reclining chair.”

Stone was awakened by something being set on his lap. He opened an eye and found a young, pretty nurse beaming at him.

“Good morning!” she chirped. “Coffee’s on the coffee table, of all places.”

Viv raised her head and contemplated the food. “Thank you so much. When . . .”

“You can see your husband in one hour. He’s being slowly wakened now, and his swelling is down considerably.” She turned and fled the room before there were more questions.

Stone tried the eggs.

“How is the breakfast?” Viv asked, shaking her hair.

“I recommend it,” Stone said. “The sausages are particularly good, and the orange juice is freshly squeezed.”

They dug in and finished everything. Stone poured them coffee from the pot and found two copies of the Times on the table.

POLICE COMMISSIONER ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT

the headline read, and there was nothing in the story he didn’t already know.

“I’m told there’s a shower in there,” Viv said, pointing. “I eat more slowly than you, so you go ahead.”

Stone stood under a hot stream for five minutes, dried his hair with a towel, and got back into the same clothes. “Much better,” he said to Viv as he left the bathroom. “Plenty of towels in there.”

Viv emptied her coffee mug and went for the bathroom while Stone perused the Times for further news. “No suspects, shooter dressed in black motorcycle clothes and helmet, weapon: double-barreled, sawed-off shotgun, double-ought buckshot. Police detective recovering from shoulder surgery, in good spirits, commissioner sleeping.”

Stone heard a hair dryer from the bathroom, and a moment later Viv emerged looking fresh and ten years younger.

“Amazing what a shower can do for the human spirit,” she said, picking up the Times. “Nothing here we don’t already know.”

“I’m here to tell you more,” a voice said from the door. Dr. Gordon, in civvies, stood there. “Right this way.” He led them a couple of doors down the hall and into the ICU, where Dino and his detective were the only patients. The detective was out, still. They pulled up chairs to Dino’s bed.

“How do I look?” he asked, his thick tongue mangling his speech.

“Like somebody tattooed your face on a soccer ball,” Stone replied, making Viv laugh.

“Funny, that’s exactly how I feel,” Dino said.

“The doctor said you’d be walking and talking today,” Viv said.

“I’m not ready to tap-dance, but I’ll walk to my bed this morning. What does the Times say?”

Stone told him. “Haven’t seen the tabloids yet, but they’ll be more fun, if not more enlightening.”

“It was Gene Ryan,” Dino said.

“What?”

“The ex-cop who’s been dogging you. I guess he got tired of that and decided to dog me, and he got lucky.”

“Did you see him?”

“I didn’t see a damn thing, but it was Ryan. I’ve got a feeling.”

“You’ve got a feeling.”

“It was a guy on a motorcycle—that’s how he made the attempt on your car.”

“A swimmer found a motorcycle registered to him in the East River.”

“So he bought another motorcycle.”

“Did Bobby see anything?”

“The shooter and the motorcycle, said they were both all black. He didn’t see a tag or a number, but he heard it roar off.”

“I’ll pass that on to Dan Harrigan,” Stone said.

“You do that—he could use some prodding.” “Prodding” came out mangled, but the meaning was clear.

“Dr. Gordon,” Dino said, “can you get me out of here and into my room? I want a TV.”

“Is right now good for you?” Gordon asked.

“Right now is just fine.”

Gordon corralled a couple of nurses, and in five minutes Dino was down the hall in his suite and on the bed. His IV was hung on a stand and checked, and the remote controls for the bed and the TV were put at his hand. Dino got the bed just right, then turned on the TV. “Nothing,” he said after a minute.

“I expect they’ve been holding this tight, until they could make a complete statement.”

“I believe that’s happening right now,” Gordon said, looking at his watch. “I’d better get out there and lend some authority to the occasion.”

“Don’t leave it to the cops,” Stone said. “They can mangle any simple statement into unintelligibility.”

The doctor left, and the three of them sat and looked at each other.

“Okay, what now?” Dino asked.

“Now you get better,” Viv said. “Take a few days, get it right. I don’t want you to go back to work too early, then faint at your desk.”

“No police commissioner of New York City, not since Teddy Roosevelt, at least, has ever fainted at his desk.”

“Then let’s not start now,” she said.

“Listen to the woman, Dino,” Stone said.

“I always do.”

“Anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah, tell Dan Harrigan to find Gene Ryan, and I don’t care if they shoot him on sight.”

“Got it,” Stone said, getting up. “I’m going to leave you two to whatever married people say to each other when one of them has a swollen head.”

“Thanks for being here, Stone,” Viv said, standing up and kissing him.

“Yeah, sure,” Dino said, “but I’m not kissing you.”

Stone left and went downstairs. To his surprise, Fred was sitting in the car, sipping coffee from a cardboard cup. Stone had forgotten to tell him to go home. He got into the car.

“I wish I’d told you to go home to bed,” Stone said.

“Not to worry, I slept very nicely in the rear seat,” Fred said, starting the car. He picked his way through the rush-hour traffic and delivered Stone to his home.

Joan was at her desk when he entered through the street door. “How is he?”

“He’s good, and he’s going to be better in a couple of days.”

“How about you?”

“I slept amazingly well in a reclining chair, then had some breakfast with Viv. She’s fine, too, now that Dino is out of the woods.”

“Then if everybody is fine, you’d better read this. It was stuck to the front door,” she said, handing him a single sheet of paper with a scrawl on it.

ONE DOWN, ONE TO GO, it read.