Текст книги "Naked Greed"

Автор книги: Stuart Woods

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Dino called the following morning to thank Stone for dinner. “The port was fantastic.”

“Way too good for you,” Stone replied.

“I hesitate to bring this up,” Dino said, “but I believe Caroline and the Brit were hatching something.”

“They were indeed,” Stone said. “I heard her slip out at six AM.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I discovered I’m not very good at sprinting over distance, and Caroline is indefatigable.”

“So you planned that?”

“Let’s just say I thought seating them together was a good idea. And speaking of ideas, I’ve had a thought about resolving the Gino Parisi thing.”

“You’re going to kill him?”

“Certainly not. Tell me this: Does your department have somebody undercover who might deliver a little message to Frank and Charlie?”

“Maybe. What kind of message?”

“I’d like for them to hear that Gino wants to get rid of them.”

“You want them to hear that Gino is firing them?”

“No, I want them to hear that Gino thinks they’re too expensive, that it’s cheaper for him to hire someone else to, ah, fire them.”

“That’s a dirty, rotten thing to do to anybody,” Dino said. “I love it.”

“I thought you might.”

“Let me see what I can do. This would have to happen very subtly.”

“I thought your fine Italian hand could manage that.”

“I’ll get back to you.” Dino hung up.

Joan came into the office. “The two goons are back—the real goons, not the ersatz ones.”

“Tell you what,” Stone said, “ask Fred to take them some coffee and Danish. Maybe they haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Now, why would you want to do that?”

“I want them to think well of me.”

She looked at him narrowly. “Why?”

“Because if they think well of me they might be a little less interested in causing me harm.”

“You think you can buy off a pair of pro goons with coffee and Danish?”

“It can’t hurt to try. And do it every morning. I want them to get used to it.”

There was a rap on the back door to Stone’s office.

“Come in!”

Ian Rattle let himself in from the kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Come in and have a seat, Ian. This is my secretary, Joan Robertson. Joan, our houseguest, Major Ian Rattle.”

Joan shook his hand.

“I think you have a delivery to arrange,” Stone said to her.

Joan left, shaking her head.

“I wanted to thank you again for last evening,” Ian said.

“Did you enjoy your second dessert?”

Ian seemed surprised. “Did you arrange that?”

“No, Caroline arranged it. All I did was give her the opportunity.”

“The generosity of Americans never ceases to amaze me!”

“Really, it was less an act of generosity than self-preservation. Are you comfortable in your suite?”

“It’s bloody marvelous,” Ian replied. “Better than my London flat.”

“Peter did a nice job on it, I thought. He’s left a DVD collection of old films. You’re welcome to sample them.”

“I love good movies. He’s a film buff, is he?”

“He’s a film director, and a very good one. My library is available, too, if you want to read. I don’t want you to start getting cabin fever.”

“Frankly, I could use the rest, if I can have an occasional visit from Caroline.”

“If that’s what you think of as rest, go right ahead. Does she understand that you’re not really here?”

“We discussed that.”

“Invite anyone you like, as long as you trust them.”

“My orders are to have no one in, unless they’ve been approved by my service.”

“I see. We can call Caroline my guest, then.”

“Thank you. Holly said that the Agency had taken special security precautions here. What sort of precautions?”

“They removed the brick veneer from the front and rear of the house, put up half-inch steel plating, then replaced the brick. They also replaced all the windows in the house with armored glass in steel frames. You won’t have that problem with the windowpanes that you did in your so-called safe house.”

“That’s a relief. I’ve been instinctively staying away from windows ever since.”

“I’ll see you at lunchtime in the kitchen,” Stone said, and Ian went upstairs.

Arnie Jacobs tended bar at a joint downtown, and he had a very nice sideline in snitching for the NYPD. Bartenders were invisible to a lot of people, who would talk freely while he was standing there, polishing glasses. Now he had new instructions from a detective in the Organized Crime Division, and he was polishing glasses and thinking about how he was going to reverse the process when Frank Russo came in with his buddy Charlie Carney. He poured them both their usual without being asked.

“Hey, Arnie,” Frank said.

“Hey, Frank.” Arnie leaned in. “I picked up a little something yesterday, might interest you.”

“I’m all ears, Arnie.”

“Coupla guys I didn’t know came in yesterday, ordered beers and started gabbin’. Lotsa people think bartenders don’t got ears, y’know?”

“Okay.”

“I hear your name mentioned.”

“How mentioned?”

Arnie looked carefully around. “Not so good.”

“Then I better hear it.”

“They’re talking about some guy named Gino. I didn’t get his other name.”

“Yeah? I know a Gino or two.”

“This one owes you money.”

“Oh, that Gino.”

“I guess. Problem is, he doesn’t wanta pay.”

“I tell ya, Arnie, nobody wants to pay.”

“This one thinks it’s maybe cheaper to take you out. Charlie, too.”

Frank froze. “Tell me exactly how he said it.”

“One guy says, ‘Gino wants to hire us to take out Frank and Charlie, says it’s cheaper than payin’ him.’”

“Exactly like that?”

“Exactly.”

“No doubt in your mind?”

“Not a one.”

Frank tossed off his drink and put a hundred on the bar. “Thanks, Arnie.”

Arnie made the hundred disappear. “Always a pleasure, Frank.”

“C’mon, Charlie,” Frank said, standing up. “We got a collection call to make. You drive.”

–

In the car Frank produced a nicely made silencer and screwed it into the barrel of his little 9mm, then tucked it into his belt.

“You gonna off ’im?” Charlie asked.

“Depends,” Frank said, getting out his cell phone. “Gino? Frank. I gotta see you right now. Yeah, I know it’s quitting time, but it’s important. I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up.

They parked in the garage next door to Gino’s office building. “C’mon,” Frank said. Charlie followed him next door and inside. On Gino’s floor, Frank said, “Stay by the door, don’t let nobody in.”

Charlie nodded and took up his station. Frank went in and found Gino at his desk.

“What’s the problem, Frank?” Gino asked. “I’ll be late for dinner.”

“Problem is, you owe me two grand,” Frank said. He tossed a list of his expenses on Gino’s desk.

“You ain’t done nothing yet,” Gino said.

“I got the better part of a week in this, and I got expenses, just like you.”

Gino sighed. “My girl’s gone—she’ll give you a check tomorrow.”

“I’ll need cash,” Frank said.

“I don’t keep that much cash around,” Gino said.

“Don’t start, Gino, I know you got it.” He unbuttoned his jacket and let the grip of the pistol show.

“You strong-arming me?” Gino asked.

“If you insist.”

Gino glared at him, then he went to a safe across the room, opened it, and took out a stack of cash and counted out some hundreds.

Frank watched, counting with him. Gino got to twenty.

Frank walked across the room and took the money, then stood over Gino, who was bending over to close the safe. Frank’s foot stopped the door. “Thanks, Gino,” Frank said, shooting him in the back of the head. When he was sprawled on the floor, Frank reached inside the safe and took the rest of the stack of cash, then closed the safe door and spun the dial. He shot Gino once more in the head for luck, then left.

“How’d you do?” Charlie asked as he came out the door.

“In the car,” Frank said. When they were back in the front seat, Frank took out the twenty hundreds Gino had given him and counted out half. He handed the money to Charlie. “He settled.”

“What did you do?”

“I settled him, the son-of-a-bitch cheapskate. We need a new gig.”

–

Farther downtown on the West Side a cop seven months away from handing in his papers sat in front of a collection of screens and recorders. He took off his headset and made a call. “Hey, it’s me. I think we got a murder at Gino Parisi’s office. Shooter used a silencer. Name of Frank.”

–

Stone was having an early-evening drink with Ian Rattle in his study when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino, with news.”

“I love news, if it’s good.”

“It’s double good. Frank Russo offed Gino Parisi.”

“Wow! How about that! Frankly, I didn’t expect such decisive results.”

“Nice thing is, we got the preceding conversation recorded, so not only is Gino out of the way, but so are Frank and Charlie, or they will be as soon as we find them.”

“A triple play. Wow.”

“A good day’s work,” Dino said. “See ya.”

Stone hung up.

“Good news?” Ian asked.

“It seems I’m no longer confined to quarters,” Stone said.

Frank was a block from dropping off Charlie at his house when his cell rang. “Yeah?”

It was his wife. “Don’t come home.”

“Why not—you couldn’t get your lover out of the house soon enough?” He laughed at his own joke, so she would know he was kidding.

“Two detectives were just here. They left, but they’re sitting outside waiting for you.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go to that place. Call Charlie’s house and ask if they been there.” Frank hung up and made a U-turn.

“What’s up?” Charlie asked.

“The cops were just at my house. They’re still there, waiting outside.” Frank’s phone rang again. “Yeah?”

“There’s two of them at Charlie’s, too.”

“Talk to you later.” He hung up. “They’re at your place, too.”

“They can’t know nothing, it’s not an hour yet. Well, almost an hour.”

“Yeah, creepy, ain’t it?”

“It must be some other beef.”

Frank thought about it. “What if Gino’s place was wired?”

“Oh, shit,” Charlie said. “You think?”

“We can go to the apartment,” Frank said. He had a little studio apartment for occasions just like this.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“You got any cash stashed?”

“Yeah, at home.”

“At home. Swell.”

“I see your point.”

“Does your wife know where it is?”

“Are you kidding? She’d be at Bloomingdale’s right now.”

“I can let you have a thousand,” Frank said. “So you won’t have to go back.”

“What’ve you got in mind, Frank?”

“I think we should be on a plane. Right now. Separate planes.”

“Where?”

“It’s better we don’t know each other’s plans. You got a place you can hole up?” He raised a hand. “Don’t tell me where.”

“Yeah, I got a place.”

Frank pulled up in front of his apartment building. “Ditch this car somewhere and take a cab back here,” he said. He got out, and Charlie drove off.

Frank went into the building and to his apartment, which was at the rear of the building, next to a fire exit. He let himself in, went into the kitchen, knelt down and opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink. He removed half a dozen bottles of cleaners and some sponges, then he took out a Swiss Army knife he always carried and pried up a couple of floorboards. He reached into the hole and withdrew a plastic briefcase, then replaced the floorboards and the cleaning supplies and went into the living room.

He opened the briefcase and took out four stacks of money, a new driver’s license, and a passport and burned his old ones in the kitchen sink and ran the ashes through the disposal. Then he went back to the living room and counted out a thousand—no, he thought, make it two thousand. He measured the height of the stack with his fingers and compared it to the rest. He reckoned he had close to a hundred grand. He put all but the two thousand back into the briefcase and packed some clothes into a large bag. The doorbell rang.

Frank let Charlie in and gave him the two thousand. “I can spare two, until you can get your hands on your stash. You got some extra ID?”

“Yeah, I’m covered. I’ve got a credit card in another name, too.”

“Okay, here’s my plan: I’ve got a car downstairs in the garage, and the tank’s full. I’m gonna drive to Philadelphia and take a plane to L.A., then lose myself. You can come with me, or you can make your own plans—up to you.”

“Can I hang out here a few hours?”

“Sure.” Frank gave him a key. “Stay as long as you like.”

“I think I’ll wait until the middle of the night, then sneak into the house and get my stash, then I’ll make tracks somewhere.”

Frank went to a drawer, took out two throwaway cell phones, and gave Charlie one. “Give me your cell.” Charlie handed it over. Frank went into the kitchen, took a hammer out of a drawer and smashed both phones thoroughly, then scraped the remains into the garbage can. He went back to the living room and they entered each other’s new numbers into their phones. “All right, I’m outa here,” Frank said. He offered his hand, and Charlie took it.

“Thanks for everything,” Charlie said.

Frank grabbed his bag, let himself out of the apartment, and took the stairs down to the building’s garage. He pulled the cover off the car—a ten-year-old Mercedes station wagon. He removed the trickle charger, closed the hood, tossed his bags into the rear seat, and started the car, which ran perfectly.

He drove out of the garage, parked nearby, and made a call to a Florida number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe, it’s me.”

“Frankie!”

“I’m coming to see you.”

“When will you be here?”

“I think I’m going to drive all the way, so maybe three days.”

“I’ll be ready for you. There’s steaks in the freezer, too. How long can you stay?”

“Long time, baby, maybe forever.”

“Forever is good for me.”

Frank hung up, put the car in gear, and aimed it at the Lincoln Tunnel. He paid cash at the booth; no E-Z Pass record. Fifteen minutes later he was headed south on I-95, the cruise control set at sixty-five.

–

That evening, Stone got a call from Dino.

“We screwed up, I think.”

“What happened?”

“Frank and Charlie beat it—they never even went home. My guys played the recordings for me. Gino called his killer Frank at one point, but the recording quality wasn’t that great. Charlie didn’t feature at all, so we haven’t got much of a case against them. The good news is, you won’t be hearing from these two guys again.”

“I didn’t know they would kill him,” Stone said.

“Don’t worry about it, you did the world a favor.”

“If you say so. You free for dinner? I’d like to get out of the house.”

“Sure.”

Jerry Brubeck got to work on time, as usual. Late the evening before he had had a call from his sister, Maria, wanting to know where Gino was—not why he was out late, just where. Jerry figured there was a girl in the picture.

He let himself into the office and stopped at the break room to make himself a cup of coffee, then he walked into his office and spilled coffee everywhere. Gino was lying on the floor in front of the safe, and his head was a mess. Jerry didn’t even try for a pulse, he just sat down at his desk, swiveled his chair away from Gino, and called 911.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“I want to report a murder.”

–

Not quite ten minutes passed, and he heard the elevator open. He walked into the reception room and found Hilda, the receptionist, hanging up her coat. “Hilda,” he said, “the police are going to be here in a minute. When they come—”

The elevator door opened again, and two young uniforms stepped out. “Where’s the murder?” one of them asked.

“Murder?” Hilda asked.

“Hilda, you just sit down at your desk and I’ll deal with this.”

“Who’s murdered?”

“Hilda!”

“Yes, Mr. Brubeck.” She sat down.

“In here,” Jerry said to the cops, holding the door open for them.

The two cops walked in and gazed at Gino’s body. “This the guy?”

“How’d you guess?” Jerry asked drily.

“You touch anything?” the other cop asked.

“Just my telephone, when I called nine-one-one.”

Two detectives walked into the office. “Okay, you two,” one of them said to the uniforms, jerking a thumb toward the door. “We got this.” The two uniforms left, muttering under their breath.

The younger of the two detectives closed the door. “We’re Detectives Mills and Schwartz,” he said, indicating he was Mills. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jerry Brubeck.”

“And who’s he?” He pointed at the corpse.

“He’s Gino Parisi, my business partner.”

“You two have a little argument over business?” Schwartz asked.

“No, I just arrived at work and found him like that.”

“You touch anything?”

“Just my phone.”

“When did you last see Mr. Parisi alive?”

“He was here when I left work last night, at six-thirty.”

“He was working late?”

“He was about to leave when he got a call. I left him to it.”

“Anything missing?”

“I don’t think so, but he’s lying in front of the safe. You want me to open it?”

Schwartz handed him a latex glove. “Please.”

Jerry put on the glove and opened the safe. “There was some cash,” he said. “It’s gone.”

“You keep a lot of cash around?”

“Some of our customers pay in cash. After it builds up, we take it to the bank.”

“Any idea how much it built up by yesterday?”

“Maybe twenty-five, thirty thousand. Our bookkeeper can give you an accurate number, when she comes in.”

Mills called for a medical examiner, and they all sat down.

“How did you and Parisi get along?”

“I got along fine. Gino didn’t get along with anybody.”

“So he had enemies?”

“Almost everybody he knew, I imagine, to one extent or another.”

Mills pulled out a pad. “Give us the ones who hated him enough to want him dead.”

“I don’t have those names,” Jerry replied. “Gino dealt with certain clients, I did everything else. For what it’s worth, I don’t think a client did this. We’re in the beverage distribution business: wine, liquor, soft drinks. It’s not a contentious business anymore.”

“But Gino was contentious?”

“Gino was old-school—he liked to tell clients what they were ordering, not ask them. Call it a personality quirk.”

“There used to be a Carlo Parisi around.”

“Gino’s old man.”

“So your business is mobbed up?”

“No. We’re clean as a hound’s back teeth. Gino, I don’t know. He lived in his own world. We had just agreed that I would buy him out.”

“So what happens to his share of the business now?”

“I guess it will go to his son, Alfredo. I haven’t seen his will, if he’s got one. Had one.”

“How did Gino and Alfredo get along?”

“Gino gave orders, Al carried them out—as best he could. Al’s more like his mother.”

“Did he work in the business?”

“He was on the books as a salesman. I agreed with Gino to keep him on after I bought his share of the business. I guess I’ll buy it from Al now.”

“Cheaper?”

“Gino and I had a contract with a very explicit formula for determining the value of the company. All we have to do is the arithmetic, and we come up with a number. One of us buys out the other. Al will take the money and run, I expect.”

A medical examiner arrived, and the three men moved to a seating area to get out of his way, while the detectives continued to question Jerry in a desultory fashion.

Half an hour later, the ME ordered the body removed.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” Schwartz asked.

“He took two to the head, twelve, fifteen hours ago. No sign of a struggle. Somebody will need to identify the victim.”

“He was my brother-in-law, and his name was Gino Alfredo Parisi,” Jerry said. He gave him Gino’s address and his wife’s name. “I’ll notify her.”

The ME gave him a form to sign, then left.

The two detectives stood up. “We’ll be in touch,” Mills said.

Jerry shook their hands, and they left. Jerry picked up the phone and called his sister. “Maria,” he said, “I’ve got bad news. You’d better sit down.” After that, the conversation was brief.

After Jerry hung up he felt curiously weightless, as if he were floating a few feet above the floor. He would take the day off, for appearance’s sake; he’d get through the wake and the funeral and the weeping relatives, then he’d sit Al down and take the company away from him.

The future looked sunny.

Joan buzzed Stone. “Pepe Perado on one.”

“Pepe, how are you?”

“Very well, thank you, Stone.”

“How do you find San Antonio?”

“Much as expected—less inviting, since I spent time in New York. I look forward to coming back.”

“I think you may do that without fear, now.”

“Has something changed?”

“Gino Parisi was murdered last night, and two of his henchmen have disappeared. I believe the coast is clear.”

“Then I must have a conversation with my son,” Pepe said.

“When is he coming to New York?”

“He’s not, but I haven’t told him yet—thus the conversation. I’m coming myself, instead, and I’m going to start planning a brewery.”

“Wonderful!”

“I think the boy will be fine with my decision. He was not really looking forward to New York. He’s a Texan, not a cosmopolitan.”

“When are you coming back?”

“As soon as I can square things here. Shouldn’t take long.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” The two men said goodbye and hung up.

Joan came into his office. “Something has changed,” she said.

“Let me guess: the goons aren’t out there today.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I hear that their employer met a bad end.”

“Ah. You had a call from Cessna while you were on the phone. A Ms. Pili Barker said your airplane is ready for delivery. She says you can start the acceptance inspection anytime.”

“Great news!”

“You want me to call Pat Frank and set up the inspection?”

“Please.” Pat Frank, a recent lady friend of Stone’s, had a business offering services to owner/pilots, and acceptance was one of them. “As soon as possible, please. And ask her to fly the airplane back to Teterboro when she’s done, and to put it in the Strategic Services hangar. Then call Pili Barker and ask her to send me the closing papers. I’ll sign them and send a check with Pat, so that she can close.”

Joan went to make the call.

Stone’s previous airplane had come to an explosive end, in England, and he had immediately ordered a larger replacement.

Ian Rattle knocked and came into Stone’s office, as had become his habit since his arrival. He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I had a call from Dame Felicity this morning,” he said.

“Is she well?”

“As always.”

“Has she found the mole in MI6 yet?”

“I don’t know, but you can ask her. She’s flying into New York this afternoon. She asked if you were free for dinner this evening.”

“I am, as it happens. Will you be joining us?”

“I was not invited.”

“Ah.” Stone buzzed Joan. “Please book me a table for two at eight, at Caravaggio.” He turned back to Ian. “How did she sound?”

“Very cool, as always.”

“Has cabin fever struck yet?”

“Not yet. In truth, I’m enjoying the time off, catching up on my reading, and enjoying the company of the lovely Caroline.”

Joan buzzed back and confirmed his restaurant table. “What time does her airplane get in?”

“Two o’clock, I believe,” Ian replied. “She said she’d call you.”

–

Stone picked up Dame Felicity Devonshire shortly before eight, and Fred drove them to the restaurant. They were settled at a table, were served drinks, and ordered.

“You look radiant, as usual,” Stone said.

“Thank you, Stone. Is your houseguest behaving himself?”

“He doesn’t really have a choice, does he?”

“I suppose not.”

“Have you made any progress in the search for his betrayer?”

“The search is ongoing. Are you tiring of Ian’s company?”

“Not really, though I prefer yours.”

“You’re sweet, but you and I are not going to enjoy ourselves on this visit, not with Ian in your house and me in the embassy.”

“I’m sad. What brings you to New York?”

“I’ve come to see if I can make a place for Ian Rattle on our United Nations staff.”

“Does that mean he’ll be moving out?”

“Yes, if I can manage it. I can’t just transfer him, I’ll need our ambassador’s approval, and he’ll have to discuss it with his staff. A lot of Foreign Office people are suspicious of MI6 officers.”

“Do you think Ian would be safer here than in London?”

“I think he’d be safer almost anywhere than in London.”

“Is the sultan of Dahai not a patient man?”

“Like most multibillionaires, he is a very impatient man, and we have word that he is very angry that Ian is still alive. The twins are said to have been his favorites among his many children.”

Stone looked up, and his eye fell on the bar. Two men were just sitting down: the ex-policeman named Ryan and Al Parisi, son of Gino. “Oh, no,” he said.

“Oh, no what?” Felicity asked.

“Just a tail I thought I had lost,” Stone replied. “Excuse me for a moment.” He got up, strode into the bar, and leaned over the table where the two had sat down. “Get out,” he said.

They seemed surprised to see him. “What are you talking about?” Ryan asked.

“Get out or you’ll be spending a few days in jail.”

“Come on, Gene,” Al Parisi said, tugging at his companion’s sleeve.

“The hell you say,” Ryan replied. “I’ll drink wherever I want to.”

“Not anymore,” Stone said, producing his cell phone. “You are never again going to spend a minute where I am.” He pressed a speed dial button.

“Bacchetti.”

“I’m at Caravaggio.”

“Swell. Have some pasta for me, I’m working late.”

“I’ve been pursued here by Ryan and the little Parisi. I’d be grateful for your help with that.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Dino said. “Don’t shoot them or anything, I’ll have them out of there in minutes.”

“Thank you, Commissioner.” Stone hung up.

“Come on, Gene,” Al said, standing up.

Ryan got reluctantly to his feet. “We’re going to settle this sometime,” he said to Stone.

“No, I’m going to settle this if I encounter you again—anytime, anywhere.” Stone turned and strode back to his table.

“What was that all about?” Felicity asked.

“Pest control,” Stone replied.