Kings of Midnight

by Wallace Stroby

  At the first rest stop she saw, she pulled in, got out her cell and called Rathka. When he came on the line, she said, “You need to be careful.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “That thing with your friend went wrong.”

  “I knew it. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Is there any way they can tie you to me?”

  “I don’t think so. Christ, I should have talked you out of this.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “What happened?”

  “He turned out to be triplets. Bad guys. They’re down for a while, but it won’t be long.” Maybe longer, she thought, if no one was awake enough to flush the coke before the police got up there.

  “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “I feel like I’m to blame.”

  “You’re not. Just the way it went down. I should have listened to my instincts.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How did you leave it? Will they come after you?”

  “Not anytime soon,” she said.

  “What if they do?”

  “I’ll worry about that when it happens,” she said, and ended the call.

  She went into the Arby’s to use the bathroom, splashed water in her face, looked in the mirror.

  Nothing’s ever easy, she thought. No matter how much you plan, allow for every contingency. Things go bad, and then you have to work twice as hard just to get back to where you started.

  She dried her face with paper towels, went out, pulled the gloves back on. There was a Dumpster near the car. She took out the three magazines, tossed them up and in. She kept the .32.

  TEN

  She was in the living room, sleet crackling against the sliding glass door, when Anthony Falcone called.

  “I’ve got bad news for you,” he said. “About the money.”

  She crossed to the stereo, turned the volume down. “Bad news is all I get lately.”

  “Your hunch was right. I took a close look at all the bills that guy gave you, especially the watermarks and security strips. Ran them under blacklight, too. The tens are all good, but the twenties…”

  “Tell me.”

  “More than half are bad. Pretty decent work, though. A lot of these going around lately. I flagged a couple at the restaurant last month.”

  Another of Cavanaugh’s sidelines. And now something else he owed her.

  “What’s the damage?” she said.

  “You could try to float the twenties somewhere, recoup a little of your loss, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “How much in good bills?”

  “Ten grand. Maybe.”

  Ten grand, out of a hundred and fifty. All her work undone, the risk wasted.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. Bad luck.”

  More than that, she thought. Bad planning, bad moves. She’d walked right into all of it, like an amateur. And now her stake was down to almost nothing. She rubbed the tattoo on her wrist.

  “Appreciate your help,” she said.

  “Let me know where you want to meet, and I’ll turn it all back over to you. I’m guessing you copied the serial numbers beforehand, so you’ll know I didn’t switch anything out.”

  “I did. Nothing personal. No offense.”

  “None taken. If I were you, though, I’d ditch these twenties as soon as possible. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

  “I will.”

  “One other thing. I’m not sure what it’s about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My grandfather called today. There’s someone he wants you to meet.”

  She frowned. “Who?”

  “Don’t know. He didn’t tell me. But you know my grandfather. If it wasn’t important, he wouldn’t mention it.”

  “He give you any idea of the reason?”

  “No. I have to call him back after I talk to you. He said if you were willing, he’d set it up. If not, forget about it. No problem. But that I should tell you it might be worth your while.”

  She knew the phrase. It was the one Jimmy used when he was steering them to work back in the ’90s, a decade’s worth of scores with no drama, no blowback. Before the jewelry store in Houston, before everything went to hell.

  “Tell him to set it up,” she said. “Then call me.”

  * * *

  She sat in the hard plastic chair, watching the man a few feet opposite her, not liking what she saw. Late fifties, early sixties. Balding, glasses. Nervous. Jimmy had introduced him as Leonard. He’d taken the chair near the window, sat half-facing her.

  Jimmy wheeled into the space between them. The door was closed, Anthony out in the hall to make sure they weren’t disturbed.

  “Let me just say this first,” Jimmy said. “I’ve known you both a long time. You both have my trust, for what that’s worth. And I’ll leave it at that.”

  Leonard fidgeted, looked out the window, then at his watch. Instinct told her to get up, walk out. The circle of people she dealt with was small, and this man was a stranger. But Jimmy had vouched for him. Leaving now would be an insult.

  “I don’t know about this,” Leonard said. He was mumbling, couldn’t make eye contact, but she picked up the accent. New York. Brooklyn, maybe. Queens.

  “About what?” Jimmy said.

  “This place. Talking here. I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  “It’s as good as anywhere,” Jimmy said. “I just wanted to make the introduction. You two want to talk more, you can go off somewhere yourselves. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

  “I don’t know,” Leonard said again. He took off his glasses, fiddled with the frames, put them back on.

  “Whatever,” Jimmy said. “We’re here now.” He looked at Crissa. “B … uh, Leonard here came to me with something of a proposition. Might be up your alley, might not.”

  “What kind of proposition?”

  “Better he tells it. I heard it all, but it’s your opinion that matters.”

  Leonard picked lint off his pants, his right heel rubbed at the carpet. This is more than nerves, she thought. This is fear.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It threw me. I mean, no offense, but when Jimmy told me he knew someone that could help, I didn’t expect a woman.”

  She’d been waiting for that. She looked at Jimmy. “Maybe this is a good time for me to head out, before I hear any more of this.”

  “Hold on,” Jimmy said. “Leonard, don’t embarrass me. I brought you both here in good faith.”

  She’d been hoping for an out, a way to cut this short without offending Jimmy. A cold meeting like this, with someone she didn’t know, was an unnecessary risk. Jimmy would know that. She wondered if age and illness had taken their toll, warped his judgment.

  Leonard rubbed a knee, squinted out the window, making a decision.

  “No offense,” she said, “but I don’t have a lot of time.”

  He looked back at her. “I’m not sure how much Jimmy told you.”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “What it is, I might have a line on some money that was stashed away years ago. A lot of money.”

  “Might?”

  “That’s just it. I’ve been away awhile. Things may have changed.”

  She was liking it even less now. “Away?”

  “Not what you think. Just out of state. But I’m from back here originally, Queens. Problem is, I don’t really know anyone around here anymore. Except Jimmy. Nobody I can trust, at least. So forgive me if I’m a little paranoid.”

  “Where were you?” she said.

  “Not the joint, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  She let that pass. He was playing it close, not giving more than he had to.

  “Tell me about the money,” she said. Wanting him to move it along, bring them to a place she could say no.

  “It’s been out of circulation awhile. As far as
I know, no one’s found it. If they had, I would have heard.”

  “Whose money?”

  “It’s from a robbery. A long time ago.”

  “How long?”

  “Thirty-five years.”

  Jimmy held up a hand. “Hold on,” he said to her. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds. I can back up part of the story, at least. I was around back then.”

  Leonard shifted in his seat. “If she doesn’t believe me, maybe it’s better we don’t get into it at all.”

  “Fine with me.” She stood. “Sorry, Jimmy.”

  “Stop,” he said. “No need for all this. Leonard, say your piece. If neither of you likes what you hear, you can both walk away, no hard feelings.”

  Leonard leaned forward, steepled his hands, looked at her. There was something familiar about him. Not someone she’d met, but someone she’d seen, in a photo maybe, or on television.

  “All right,” she said. She sat back down.

  “That’s better,” Jimmy said. “Now, Leonard, let’s hear it.”

  Leonard tapped his fingertips together, looked at the floor, then up at her. “You know about Lufthansa?”

  “The airline?”

  “The robbery. Back in ’78. Biggest cash heist in U.S. history at the time.”

  “I’ve heard of it.”

  “Six guys walked into the Lufthansa cargo terminal at JFK, walked out with eight, maybe ten million in cash and jewels. That was the estimate, at least. None of it was traceable.”

  “Where’d the money come from?”

  “People changing currency overseas. Military, tourists, whatever. The jewelry was being couriered, for delivery to the States. Just a coincidence it was there that day. The score was mainly cash, though. Most of it was never recovered.”

  “And won’t be at this point,” she said.

  “Leonard’s got a theory on that,” Jimmy said.

  “Let’s hear it,” she said.

  “Some of the money got spread out right away,” Leonard said. “Up here and in Florida. Tribute to the bosses, and then some into a kind of investment fund. Seed money for businesses, real estate, that sort of thing. But there was still a lot left over. So people got greedy.”

  “You know all this how?” she said.

  “I was part of the crew that did it.”

  She sat back. This was different. “You one of the six?”

  “No.”

  “But you got your share.”

  He shook his head. “Should have, but didn’t. Things got crazy right afterward. Guys started getting whacked right and left.”

  “I remember that,” Jimmy said. “It was a bad time.”

  To Leonard, she said, “Go on.”

  “The guy who put it together, Jimmy Burke—we called him ‘the Gent’—he kicked up to Joe Diamante, Joey Dio. Joey oversaw a bunch of the Queens crews back then, along with Tony Ducks and Paulie Vario.”

  She recognized the names. “You knew all these people?”

  “I was around them. I used to be at Roberts Lounge all the time, in Ozone Park. That’s where we all hung out, Jimmy and the guys. We sat around, shot the shit. Ran bets out of the back. That’s where the whole job came together.”

  It was all sounding vaguely familiar now. A movie she’d seen, maybe, or a book she’d read.

  “Most of those guys from back then are dead,” he said. “A couple are in the joint, couple more in the program. Joey Dio just died a few weeks back.”

  “This is all interesting,” she said, “but it’s ancient history.”

  “Joey Dio got a big chunk of the money, maybe the lion’s share. It was his territory, so he had to give his blessing in the first place, before Jimmy put the score together. Joey got sent away a few years back, a RICO beef, but word was he’d stashed his cut somewhere, didn’t touch it. He was a very paranoid individual. A couple days after the job, he and Jimmy were already having people whacked. It was easier than paying them off.”

  “They let you walk away?”

  He shifted, uncomfortable. “I knew what was coming. So I made some moves first.”

  “You rolled.”

  “If you want to call it that.”

  “What else would you call it?”

  “Saving my life. It was me or them.”

  She looked at Jimmy. He shrugged. “It happens.”

  To Leonard, she said, “You were in the program?”

  “For a while, yeah.”

  “Testifying in cases? Marshals looking after you?”

  “Not anymore. I’m done with all that. No more marshals. Nobody in the G knows I’m back here. And at this point, they wouldn’t care. They cut me loose.”

  “Why?”

  “I got tired of playing their game. And they were done with me anyway. I’d been out of the life so long, I wasn’t any use to them anymore. The people I knew, the things I did … Like you said, ancient history. I’m no good to anybody now.”

  She could see the regret in his eyes, something close to resignation. As if admitting something to himself for the first time.

  “You have family?” she said.

  He shook his head. “My wife passed. I don’t know where my kids are. I haven’t heard from them in a long time.”

  “You on your own out here?”

  “No. I’ve got someone with me.”

  “A woman?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Just the two of us.”

  “And your name’s not really Leonard, is it?”

  “That’s the one on my driver’s license. And now you know a lot more about me than I do about you.”

  “What do you know about me?”

  “Just that Jimmy vouches for you, says you’re a serious person.”

  She looked at Jimmy again. “I’m still not sure what I’m doing here.”

  “Since Joey Dio died,” Leonard said, “people have been looking for his money.”

  “Which may or may not exist.”

  “It exists. I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure of that.”

  “And?”

  “I think I have an idea where it might be.”

  “Where?”

  He looked at her, didn’t answer.

  “For what it’s worth,” Jimmy said, “I knew Joey D a little. That’s the way he was. If he had money put away, he’d burn it before letting anyone else near it.”

  “How much are we talking about?”

  “After all this time, I can’t be sure,” Leonard said. “But I’d guess two, three million at least. Cash.”

  The numbers made sense. If he’d named a larger amount—six or eight million—she would have dismissed it as unrealistic, made her excuses and left, and apologized to Jimmy later.

  “What about his family?” she said. “Someone must have known he had that money.”

  “His wife died some years back. No kids. He was alone when he passed.”

  “What about his crews?”

  “Most of them are long gone. But there’s other guys circling around, getting the scent.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You need to tell her,” Jimmy said.

  “Tell me what?”

  Leonard shifted again. “Some guys came out to see me, a few days ago. Tracked me down. They wanted me to help them look for the money.”

  “What happened?”

  “They braced me. I got away.”

  “Where was this?”

  “Indiana. Where I was living.”

  “They still looking for you?”

  “Probably.”

  “They from back east?”

  “Brooklyn.”

  That wasn’t good. She looked at Jimmy, then back at Leonard. “So, they could be around here now, waiting for you to turn up.”

  “Yeah.”

  “They know you had connections in Jersey?”

  “They might.”

  She turned to Jimmy. “Have you heard anything about all this?”


  “Not yet. But I’ve got my ears open.”

  He looked younger somehow now, his eyes brighter. She knew what it was. He was in the middle of it again, mediating. Back in the life, broken hip and all.

  To Leonard, she said, “You know where this money is? Yes or no?”

  “I got a pretty good idea. But getting it, that’s something else. I’d need help.”

  “Where is it?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “What are we talking about?” she said. “A bank? A safe?”

  “No bank. A safe, maybe. In a house. My thought was, if I can track it down for sure, we go in together and get it, split it sixty-forty.”

  “With the sixty to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  He looked at Jimmy, then back at her. “What did you have in mind?”

  “First of all, I haven’t heard anything convincing me this money actually exists. Or if it does, that you know where it is.”

  “You’ll have to trust me on that.”

  “Doesn’t work that way. If I’m in it, I’m in it. All the information up front. No surprises later. My decisions, my plans. If we find anything, we split fifty-fifty, expenses off the top, and a finder’s fee to Jimmy here. That’s if there’s anything to find in the first place. Fifty percent of nothing is nothing. You have a cell?”

  “No.”

  “Get a disposable. Give the number to Anthony. I’ll get it from him if I need it.”

  “If?”

  “That’s all you’re going to get from me right now.”

  She turned to Jimmy. “Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course. I appreciate your coming here.”

  She stood, put a hand on his shoulder, felt the sharp bones there. “Take care, Jimmy. We’ll talk soon.” He patted her wrist.

  Out in the hall, Anthony pushed away from the wall. As the door swung shut, she could hear them talking inside, voices low.

  “Walk with me,” she said.

  He fell in beside her. At the elevator, she said, “You know that guy in there?”

  “Never seen him before. My grandfather must trust him, though, or he wouldn’t be here.”

  “I hope you’re right.”