An Engineered Injustice (Philadelphia Legal)
Page 30
Vaughn balls his fists. The car’s racing now, making light after light. He can’t open his door, but maybe if he gets into it with Johnny G., the driver will stop the car and he can jump over the front seat.
“Don’t even think about it,” Johnny G. says. “You’d be lights-out before you got the first punch off.”
Vaughn bares his teeth but leans back in the seat. His only play is with Jimmy Nunzio himself. The man’s a bloodthirsty savage. But he’s smart. He’s capable of listening to reason.
The driver takes the limousine west on 76, then south on 222, through the town of Lancaster, past New Providence, past Quarryville, deep into farmland. No one says anything until Johnny Giacobetti, enjoying the distress on Vaughn’s face, says, “You heard the story, right?”
“The fiancée, the boss, and the coffin? Who hasn’t?”
Johnny smiles and Vaughn’s stomach drops as he realizes what Nunzio is doing. He’s planning on writing another story, going to use him and Eddy, maybe their whole family, to send a message. Like the myth about Keyser Söze, except the Nunzio legend is real.
The car pulls off the two-lane road onto the dirt-and-gravel driveway. Parked in front of the dilapidated farmhouse are the black Escalade, a blue Escalade EXT pickup with two enormous dogs in the flatbed, and a cherry-red convertible Porsche 911 Carrera. Half a dozen men, all in dark clothes, are milling around.
“Let’s go,” says Johnny G., pulling Vaughn out of the car by his shirt collar.
As soon as Vaughn’s out of the car, the farmhouse door opens and James F. X. Nunzio makes his appearance. He leads Eddy and Kate, holding the baby, out of the door, onto the porch, and down the steps. Vaughn’s mind is spinning as he tries to figure out what to say—what reasoning to use, what bargain to offer, what form of begging will be most effective—to persuade the mobster not to exact his vengeance. Then, in an instant, everything changes. Before Vaughn has a chance to open his mouth, she walks out from behind Nunzio. Erin. She’s not smiling. She’s not frowning. Her face is unreadable.
I’ll kill you, Vaughn thinks, looking at Nunzio. If you lay a hand on her, I’ll find a way.
Jimmy Nutzo positions Vaughn, Eddy, Kate, and Erin in a semicircle in front of him. His men take up positions behind them.
Nunzio takes his time, studying their faces one by one, until he comes to Eddy. “Those others, the lawyers, set the whole thing up. But you’re the one who let himself get set up to be the patsy, the one who brought the phone, made it all work.”
Vaughn sees Eddy stiffen, getting ready for what’s coming. Ready to fight, for himself and his family. Vaughn gets ready, too, clenches his fists. He’ll lunge at Nunzio, take him down. Giacobetti and the others will rush to pull him off. In the confusion, Eddy, Kate, and Erin might be able to make a run for it. Eddy has a rifle in the house. The odds are overwhelmingly against them. But they’ll have a shot.
Nunzio takes a deep breath. “Tell me why. Why you brought the second phone. You told the judge at the trial. But I want you to tell me.”
Eddy keeps his eyes glued to Nunzio. “There were break-ins where we lived. Kate was alone in the house. And eight months pregnant. I needed that phone, for my family.”
“Your family.”
Nunzio stands motionless as a stone, and Vaughn can see that he’s looking both at Eddy and inside himself. After a while, the mobster closes his eyes. His whole body stiffens, then relaxes, then stiffens again. Everyone watches and waits. It seems to Vaughn that no one is breathing.
“Family.” Nunzio repeats the word. After a minute, he sighs and relaxes his muscles, and it seems to Vaughn like he’s let something go.
“Go inside,” Nunzio tells Eddy. “Take your wife and your baby.”
Eddy doesn’t waste time. Before Vaughn can count to three, his cousin and his little family are halfway up the steps.
Vaughn watches Nunzio watch Eddy.
“Wait,” Nunzio says, and everything seems to stop again. Nunzio walks toward the steps, puts his hand inside his jacket. When he gets to Eddy, he removes his hand, now holding a slim silver pen. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a business card. He writes something on it, then hands Eddy the card. “Here. Guy I know runs a short-line railroad. Looking for a good engineer.”
Eddy hesitates but takes the card. “Thank you.” He stares at Nunzio for a long minute. Then, without more, he turns and takes his family into the house.
Vaughn stands stupefied as Erin moves up behind him and takes his hand.
Nunzio approaches them. “Your turn.”
Vaughn tenses, remembering the last time he was on the phone with Nunzio.
Nunzio reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys. Car keys.
Vaughn glances at the Porsche. “You’re shitting me.”
“Don’t wet your pants, counselor,” Nunzio says, handing Vaughn the keys. “It’s a lease. You have the car for three years.”
“But when I called you, you made it sound like—”
“Like we weren’t even? Well, we weren’t. I owed you. Rewards and punishments. Everyone forgets the rewards part.” Nunzio turns and heads for the Escalade, his soldiers moving with him.
“Hey!” It’s Erin. “You forced me to come here. What do I get?”
Nunzio nods toward Vaughn. “You get him. Whether that’s a reward or a punishment . . .” He shrugs.
Vaughn waits until Nunzio is in the Escalade, then walks over. Nunzio lowers the window and Vaughn says, “The plane, the cars, all these men—you’re not just an underboss, are you?”
The corner of Nunzio’s mouth stretches into the thinnest hint of a smile, then he rolls up the window.
Johnny G. walks to the blue Escalade EXT pickup, pets the two gigantic dogs.
“Part of your crew?” Vaughn asks.
“Recent additions. Thor, Loki, say hello to Mr. Coburn.”
The dogs turn their heads toward Vaughn, their eyes full of menace.
“They look pissed,” Vaughn says.
Giacobetti shrugs. “No wonder. Their owner abandoned them. Got his ass thrown in jail.”
“Balzac?”
Johnny G. smiles. “I’m working on a Game of Thrones thing for him.”
“Ramsay Bolton.” Erin, a huge fan of the show, translates.
Johnny G., still smiling, says, “The more enlightened prisons are introducing comfort dogs to uplift the inmates’ spirits. I hear Balzac is down in the dumps.”
Vaughn’s face shows he has no idea what they’re talking about.
“Ramsay Bolton’s dogs eat him alive,” Erin explains. Then she turns back to Johnny G. “I haven’t heard from Laurie. Should I be worried?”
“Your friend’s on her way to Paris, in the jet. She said I should join her in a couple of days.”
Erin’s eyes widen. She looks the big man up and down. “Oh my.”
Giacobetti gets into the pickup and leads the caravan off the farm.
As the cars drive away, Eddy emerges from the house, walks over to Vaughn. The two cousins stand across from each other for a long moment. Then Eddy reaches out for Vaughn’s hand, and they shake. Nothing more is needed. All debts have been repaid. The fallen, redeemed. The bonds reforged, in steel.
“We’ll be looking for godparents soon,” Kate says, rocking Emma in the doorway.
Vaughn turns to Erin. “We’d be honored.”
They say their goodbyes, and Vaughn and Erin walk to the Porsche. They climb in and Vaughn starts the car. He’s about to pull out when Erin holds up an envelope. “What do you think’s in this?”
“One way to find out,” Vaughn says, signaling Erin to open it.
She does, and finds a sheet of white copy paper with a single line. She reads it, smiles, and hands it to Vaughn.
He feels a chill when he sees what it says: No drag racing.
Vaughn shifts into first, kicks up some dirt, and an instant later, all that’s left of them is the fading sound of Springsteen’s “Born to Run.”<
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is the result of the insights, effort, and generosity of a great many people. First is my wife, Lisa Chalmers, to whom I’ve dedicated the book. She motivated me to create a worthy companion to A Criminal Defense and supported me as I worked to do so. My early readers gave me great feedback and suggestions, so thank you to Jill S.H.S. Reiff and Neil Reiff, Andrea and Rob Sinnamon, Lauren and Naumon Amjed, and Jill and Greg Cunningham.
To Cynthia Manson, my agent and guide through the publishing world, thank you for your attentiveness and direction. You’ve opened the door to this brave new world and continue to show me the way forward.
To editor extraordinaire Ed Stackler, you are a true alchemist, transforming base metal into gold.
To Gracie Doyle, I extend huge and heartfelt thanks for the personal interest you’ve taken in my books and for being so accessible and easy to work with. You make me glad I chose Amazon as my publisher. You and your whole Thomas & Mercer team: Jeffrey Belle, Mikyla Bruder, Galen Maynard, Clint Singley, Sarah Shaw, Dennelle Catlett, Ashley Vanicek, Gabrielle Guarnero, Laura Costantino, and Laura Barrett.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © Todd Rothstein
William L. Myers, Jr. is a Philadelphia lawyer with thirty years of trial experience in state and federal courts up and down the East Coast. A graduate of the University of Pennsylvania School of Law, he has argued before the United States Supreme Court and still actively practices law. Myers was born into a proud working-class family and now lives with his wife, Lisa, in the western suburbs of Philadelphia. He is the author of A Criminal Defense.