by Simon Swift
"You know that he is reputedly the elder brother of the Dutchman?"
I nodded.
"I don't know if that is true. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't but either way Coward is not planning on going down the same way. Maybe he seems a lot bigger due to his absolute secrecy and ability to operate in the dark. Whatever you do Errol, do not underestimate him. Whoever he is, he is extremely well connected and probably right to the top. The Tighes have long been a spent force. In fact, most of the Irish are declining and the great Jewish gangsters of old are on the wane too. Luciano may think he is the undisputed King of New York and maybe even America, but there was room for Dutch Schultz and there is room for Phillip Coward."
His eyes glazed over again. "But I didn't always think like this. The more time went on the more Muang's abduction ate me up. When Woo Wang first passed me the information about Dyke and the diamond I wouldn't have believed it would lead to this."
"You still haven't told me what happened."
"I got a warning that if I didn't cooperate then it would be Muang's life next. Coward wants that fuckin' gem so much it doesn't matter what he has to do to get it. They made it clear she would suffer. Always messages; telephone messages, notes, words in ears, never in person."
Tears filled Weeny's eyes. "The thing is, Errol, I love my dear sister more than I love myself. I didn't know how much they'd got to her... brainwashed her. I thought she was the unsuspecting victim."
He filled his glass and gulped it down in one go, his thin neck accentuating the liquid as it went down. "In the end it was probably her that telephoned the police to frame me up."
The word 'me' made me wince.
"For years I saved her, I compromised my friends, I made sacrifice after sacrifice and look how she repaid me..."
Tears rolled down Weeny's cheeks and he shook uncontrollably. I finished my Lucky Strike -my third- and held out a hand. Weeny held it tightly, a grip you wouldn't have believed the little man had in him. For a few moments, we sat silently holding hands and then Weeny composed himself, wiped his face and smiled.
"Two days ago I took her back. They did a good job on her she fought like a trooper, but she's safe. I took her to a safe place and in forty eight hours time she'll be on a plane, with or without me."
I looked at the clock on the wall. It was late - two thirty - but the Short Bar was thriving. Before I even raised my arm, another bottle of bourbon was on the table. The waiter smiled a sickly smile and went back to washing glasses.
"I'm sorry but I got to ask you this."
"I know, you want to know what happened at Woodstock. But Errol, I have just told you. I had to make a choice and I am sorry you came second. If it's any consolation there are few people in this world that you would come second to, but in spite of all that she has done she is my sister. And I kind of figured that you would survive, after all you still hold all the aces."
I nodded, watching Weeny closely. He appeared to have made a speedy recovery. Now talking quicker and louder, with more bounce.
"It wasn't me that killed Dyke, although I may get the chair for it," he added. "I'm afraid I don't know just who it was but I think you know a man who does. I haven't even met him face to face whereas you are practically his drinking buddy."
We sat for the next ten minutes or so in silence. I was desperately trying to take in what my former friend had told me. He just sat slumped in his chair. His thin face looking desolately glum. Occasionally he would raise the glass to his colourless lips and gulp down wolfishly before returning his gaze somewhere over my left shoulder.
Eventually, it was Weeny Jung Ping who broke the silence, "Of course you don't have to believe any of this, Errol, although it would make it a little better if you did."
Again, there was a long silence.
"And when you sprung Muang, what then? Why haven't you been in touch?"
"Errol, it is late, you are tired. Think a little more before you talk," he smiled. "The police arrived on my doorstep and I was forced to flee. A double homicide suspect, fugitive from the law and no doubt top of one or two other hit lists."
I looked lost, shrugging my hands in the air. "So what happens now, Weeny? Have you got one more chance to hand me over for a passport to Brazil?"
A look of genuine hurt came over the Chinese man's face. Hurt and shame. He slowly shook his head. "My business in New York is now at an end. I care only what happens to my family. And my friends," he added a little hastily. "I have never been interested in this diamond." He paused. "If it does actually exist at all. It has taken a great deal of effort to find you, you cover your tracks very well." He reached out and touched my shoulder. "I just wanted to square things up...and... and tomorrow I give myself over to the police."
I was surprised but kept my face stolid and impassive.
"...and if I go to the chair, so be it."
There was a long pause. Our eyes never left the other's for a second. It was Weeny that cracked first.
"At least I know my sister is now safe. And if I know you rightly, Errol, you'll crack the case. Maybe not for me, and I can't blame you for that, but for Dyke, and for the sake of honour and maybe a little bit for yourself."
At that, Weeny Jung Ping got up from his barstool and walked slowly from the Short Bar.
I remained seated on my own for a good while longer. Still the pianist tickled the ivories, and still the beer drained slowly away. And all the while old Father Time went about his business, making it 3.32 before I let out a big yawn. It had been a long day and it was now time for some rest. The sealed envelope would have to wait a little while longer. It was after all addressed to a Miss Claudia Cortene, even though she point blankly refused to have anything to do with it.
As I got to my feet and slung my trench coat over my tired shoulder, I reflected on a fruitful day. A good deal had happened this rainy, bitterly cold Autumn day and I was now pretty confident of having a happy reunion with Lieutenant Beech by the end of the week. Tomorrow would of course be a big test - would I hear from Timmy after all, and would the secret contents in my inside pocket turn out to be everything I hoped they would be?
The waiter bid me goodnight and I slowly trudged out of the Short Bar, into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. The lift was surprisingly full for this time in the morning, so much so we almost had to hold hands. An older lady dressed in a purple, full length dress with her gray hair cut in a bob, winked at me. I smiled back and looked down at my feet as the elevator began its slow climb.
I was suddenly feeling very tired as I made my way along the corridor. The ride up had taken longer than expected, the doors opening at every floor to let someone stagger out. My head was feeling heavy and the world around me was drifting. When I reached the room, I fumbled with the key, managing to fit it into the small keyhole at the fifth attempt. The door swung open and I tumbled in feeling more and more disorientated. Could it be the alcohol? -it certainly appeared to have affected most other people tonight. Had I drunk that much? I wasn't sure just how much we had consumed.
The room was dark so the lights stayed off.
I slowly undressed, tossing items of clothing all over the room, not caring where they happened to land. I had just enough energy to amble over to the washroom, fill a tumbler with water and wash my stubbly face. The ice-cold water splashed over my eyes several times, before I turned off the tap and got into bed.
Claudia was fast asleep under the covers, just as I had left her earlier. She murmured quietly in her slumber, nothing comprehensible. I pulled the duvet up tight around my chin and closed my eyes. Steady shots of pain jutting across intermittently. I closed my eyes tighter and tried to go to sleep.
I awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. The sheets stuck grubbily to my back, making a tearing sound as I peeled them off. I sat up sharply resting my back on the headboard. My head felt like I'd done ten rounds with Joe Louis. I rubbed my eyes irritably and slowly opened them. It took a moment or two to focus, the light making them sti
ng. As that gradually wore off I looked at my watch. It was ten thirty three.
There was no sign of Claudia next to me! The other side of the bed was neatly made up. I could hear the shower in the bathroom and the sweet humming of a lady. I noticed my clothes were all folded up in a pile on the side of the bed and a steaming mug of coffee was beside me on the dresser.
I smiled and sat back relaxed. The coffee was hot. Hot and thick, just as I liked it. Sun streamed in though the large window, the curtains tied back as far as they would go. Old Lady Liberty smiled at me and I winked back at her, remembering the old woman in purple last night. I don't know why, but suddenly I imagined her as the Statue of Liberty, in that gaudy dress, coated in thick make-up. I shook my head trying to shake the crazy thought from my mind.
Claudia wandered through, only a small pink towel covering her assets. Her masses of shiny, brunette locks placed up on her head. She smiled sweetly, and then frowned before heading over to the cabinet. Searching through the drawer, she eventually pulled out a small container that rattled, before taking out two tablets and swallowing them down whole.
"You're finally awake," she said, giggling and came and sat by my side. "I thought maybe you could do with it," she pointed at the mug in my hand, not looking me in the eye.
"You're a sweetheart," I said, kissing her forehead softly. She looked real beautiful, leaving little to the imagination. I adjusted her towel as it started to come undone, so to protect her innocence.
Claudia looked surprised. "I didn't think you'd mind," she said smiling, "not after last night."
I laughed. "Last night, do you remember much? Was it good for you?"
Claudia looked puzzled. A little embarrassed, her cheeks reddened then she smiled. "I was okay wasn't I?" she asked as if afraid of the answer, "you weren't disappointed?"
Again, I laughed and Claudia jumped to her feet and walked across the room. Hiding her face from me she softly said, "I did make an effort Errol, maybe I'm not too experienced but I want to do is make you happy."
"Okay, okay. Stop right there sweetie," I chuckled. "I'm being cruel here..."
"No you must tell me you..." she interrupted, now holding the towel tightly around her.
"Claudia listen," I held up my hands, "last night, when we arrived back here..." I could see her cringe, "nothing happened okay. You fell asleep and I couldn't bring myself to interrupt you. You wouldn't have wanted it to be like that anyway."
"Really?" she said, and I nodded.
Claudia breathed out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God for that, I couldn't remember a thing. I thought maybe I'd..."
"Shush, shush." I opened my arms and held her against me.
We both got dressed in silence, smiling cheekily at each other like kids. Slowly and meticulously, I attired myself in my working clothes from an overnight bag. Crisp, white shirt, black trousers and socks. I left the trench coat off for the moment, adjusting my jacket perfectly. Claudia took a little while longer, doing something great with her hair and lightly painting her face, creating a beautiful picture. I used the time well, munching breakfast and mulling over my next move.
"Are you going to open the envelope today, Errol?" asked Claudia, a little unsure.
"I guess that's up to you honey. It was left to you in the will. I got my money," I said referring to the $10,000 in used notes that were left to me in the safe. "The next move is up to you."
Claudia shook her head. "I told you yesterday, Errol. I want nothing to do with it. Whatever there was between me and Liam... it finished a long time ago!"
I nodded in agreement.
"But if it's gonna be a help to you Errol, on the case, you should open it."
The rest of the morning was hectic. I got in touch with Ava who informed me that Mr. Wilson had sent me a postcard, several postcards in fact from all over the world. The guy was spreading the net far and wide. I then got a call from Timmy; he was in unusually high spirits and gladly informed me of the capture of one Weeny Jung Ping. I could have ten minutes with him if I got over to the station pretty damn quick. When I declined the offer he hung up on me, calling me a ‘goddam son of a bitch.’
Although Claudia was getting pretty caught up in the case I felt it was unfair to involve her any further. Still, I was apprehensive of just how quickly we should progress despite our acceptance of a few home truths. She wanted to stay by my side but I ignored all her protests and dropped her off at Ava's promising her dinner that evening. I also urged her to ring her family regularly and let them know she was fine. The last thing I needed was the Cortene's back on the scene when things were coming to a crucial stage.
I then stopped at my temporary office at Joe's Diner. My next move would be a visit to my apartment in the Bronx. It had been a while since I'd been 'home', not deeming it a safe area with everything that was going on. That was sure to be the first place they looked. I felt pretty sure that they would have had a man there 24 hours a day, maybe they still would. However, it was long overdue that I returned to clear up a few things. I arranged to meet Hermeez there in an hour. I figured it would always be safer in numbers.
Before I headed off there I had just enough time to open the elusive envelope. I felt a sensation of excitement fill my body as I thought of what the contents may hold. It had taken a lot of restraint not to open the bloody thing right there and then at the hotel, but in spite of what I had told Claudia I wanted to do it alone. The initial disappointment was replaced by increased curiosity. But with Hermeez breathing down my neck and the simple fact that it was addressed personally to Claudia, I withheld. There was of course the possibility that it was nothing, maybe just a little windfall or a memento for an ex-sweetheart. Although with a ten grand fee simply to deliver the key, I dismissed such thoughts.
I lifted up my trench coat and fingered through the pockets, trying to remember just where I'd left it. At first I thought maybe I missed it due to the excitement and my hurried search. I checked and I checked again, at first not realizing the inevitable outcome.
I sat down with one of Joe's awful coffees, drinking thoughtlessly, searching desperately through my mind for an answer. When had I lost it? - the chat with Weeny, the packed elevator ride during the night? The realization hit me like a sledgehammer: the disorientation, the immediate drowsiness and the uncharacteristic sleep in till gone ten. It seemed pretty likely I'd been drugged, but by who? Weeny? He had given himself up, Timmy already told me, and, I sighed. I had already declined to see him.
I parked my heap two blocks away. Making sure I was alone, I got out of the car and locked her up. It wasn't really necessary - if someone wanted to take her they would. Some chance, I thought, and strided out on the slippery sidewalk. The rain poured down heavily, bouncing high off the avenue.
The neighborhood looked the same as always. Gangs of smokes loitering on every street corner. All huddled up proudly wearing the latest designer gear and more gold than you could find in the Federal Reserve. Thick clouds of smoke billowed up from their heads into the grim, dark sky. Litter strewn all over the sidewalk like a whole stack of rubbish skips had been lifted up in a big crane and turned upside down. Left to scatter aimlessly over the graffiti ridden estates.
I soon arrived outside my flat and looked around for any sign of impropriety. From nowhere I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and swung around.
It was Hermeez.
"You okay?" he asked, not his usual merry self I noticed.
I nodded. "Is everything all right?"
He grabbed my arm and physically pulled me over into a forested area at the side of the apartment block. "I've checked the place out. As far as I can make out there's one in the flat and one just over there." He pointed at a stationary vehicle thirty yards on the street. Inside there was one man, seated in the passenger seat, carefully studying a newspaper. I recognized him as the man from the Manhattan Bistro.
"Have you checked the contents of the envelope?" he asked almost anxiously.
I looked my fri
end over. He was dressed the same as usual. Immaculately as ever. He had sweat dripping from his face.
"It sure is raining hard." He brushed the sweat off, sensing my stare. "So Errol, has Liam left us a trail to the diamond?"
"No, I haven't opened it just yet," I said, not quite lying. I looked back at the car. "Are they armed?" I asked stupidly.
Hermeez didn't answer immediately. "Oh yes," he eventually said, "but it’s not a problem. I thought you were going to open it last night. Why then are we here if you haven't opened it? That is the object of the exercise is it not?"
His persistence was irritating me a little. "Look, we'll talk about that later, okay?" I lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Just trust me okay?"
Hermeez nodded slowly without looking me in the eye.
"Are you ready?" I asked and smiled.
The atmosphere that had been building since we met was quickly lifted. Hermeez snatched the Lucky from my mouth, stamped it out and smiled. "Sure I am Eezy. We do not want to go giving them smoke signals, though eh?"
Checking carefully that there was nobody around Hermeez weaved in and out of trees till he was as close to the car as was possible, whilst still being concealed. He leaned with his back against a small bricked wall, maybe ten yards from the blue Chevette. I, meanwhile, brushed myself down, stood up tall and began a slow stroll towards the entrance of the block. I looked straight ahead, apparently oblivious to the shiny motor car until...
The familiar clicking of a handgun being cocked. "Hold it right there dipshit! Turn around slowly, no sudden movements!"
I held my arms in the air at my sides and slowly turned around. I couldn't help but smile as I saw the haddock man, gun in hand attempting to look menacing with a pink plaster stuck right across the bridge of his nose. He scowled as nastily as he could manage and waved the gun about restlessly.
