by Polly Iyer
Mario shook his head. “You were special, Tawny. For ten years. That’s why your betrayal is so disappointing.”
“What should I have done? Go to prison? Besides, if Benny was killing off his girls, snitching on him wouldn’t have bothered me one bit. But I never mentioned you to the cops, and I wouldn’t have.” She wondered if that sounded believable. Even if it did, Mario wouldn’t trust her. He wasn’t conditioned to believe anyone he perceived as a threat.
But she would have turned in Rick Martell without a second thought when she found out he’d killed Cindi Dyson and walked away without remorse. Mario knew that about her. Her action would have brought him unwanted attention. Any way she looked at it, she was screwed.
“It wasn’t killing the girl that turned you against Rick, was it, Mario? There was more to it. Was he stealing from you? Is that what his death was all about?”
“You always were the smartest of my women, Tawny. Rick was screwing me over, embezzling millions. I suspected, but I wasn’t sure until I brought someone in to go over the accounts. Rick funneled money out of the country with unparalleled brilliance, and it took someone with his ingenuity to track it down. He betrayed me, and that is an unpardonable sin. No, Rick was going down anyway, but this was such a perfect setup I couldn’t resist. Those two”—he gestured with his head in two different directions—“would do anything for money.” He leaned in, close to her ear. “And they’re dispensable, but, shhh, don’t tell them I told you.”
“I tried. They wouldn’t believe me. They think you’ll be true to your word and get them out of the country.”
Mario laughed. “They’re perfect, aren’t they?” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I gave these up years ago.” He lit up. “Doesn’t matter now.” He dragged fully, exhaling curls of smoke through his nose and mouth. “Might as well enjoy the time I have left.”
“After all these years, Mario. Is this the way it’s going to end?”
“I’m afraid so, my dear.”
“Why? You’re sick. You’ll never live to go to jail. What difference will it make if you let me go?”
“You think it’s only about me, Tawny? Do you know how many others are involved? Chicago, L.A., Boston, Vegas, Miami. This is a network, and Rick was embezzling from all of them. He was very smart, had it all on disks. If I hadn’t figured out what he was doing, he’d have gotten away with it. Unfortunately, you’re smart too. You figured out there was more.
“Cooper will say I contracted those two yokels to take care of Rick because he was fucking around on my wife’s niece. That’s acceptable, and I won’t be around to refute it. But if you talk, my associates will come after my sons and their families, because that’s what they do. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So how do you know you can trust the next guy?”
“When you make an example of someone, it ensures his successor won’t be so stupid. I needed someone who knew what to look for. I’ve groomed my replacement. He knows everything. He also knows it can’t get out or there’ll be a bloodbath. It’s like a new administration in Washington coming in and erasing everything the old administration did. You see my predicament? You’re a loose end. A lovely one, to be sure, but I can’t let you unravel my life’s work.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Now, enough talking. I’m very tired, and I need to knot the threads. Come on.”
He shuffled to his right and picked up a coil of electrical cord, then opened the door and spoke to Reggie. “Take her upstairs and tie her to the radiator so she can’t run away from you again. Third floor, like I told you.” He thrust the cord at Reggie. “Use this.”
Reggie took the cord, swung Tawny around, and pushed her toward the stairs. “You don’t have to do this, Mario,” she pleaded over her shoulder.
“I’m afraid I do, my dear. Sorry.”
She saw Mario clutch at his stomach as if he had a sudden pain.
Breathing hard, he said, “I can’t tell you how it breaks my heart.” He stooped down, his wasted face grimacing, picked up another fluorescent lantern, and looped the handle over his arm. He lifted a discarded two-by-four from a pile and used it as a cane to steady himself before following them up the stairs, one at a time.
Jamming her big toe on one of the steps, Tawny cried out, but Reggie paid no attention and pushed her harder. When they got to the room, Reggie shoved her onto the floor. Her already painful shoulder shot burning daggers through her, and she cried out.
“Don’t stand there, Colin, hold her down while I unwind this cord,” Reggie said.
Colin, used to giving the orders, mumbled under his breath and sat on Tawny to keep her from wriggling out of his grasp. She fought Reggie as he wrapped her ankles first, then encircled her legs, lifting her until he reached her waist, where he threaded the coil through the radiator pipes, out again, around her arms, and up to her shoulders. She couldn’t move, tied and bound like a mummy.
Mario entered the room and surveyed Reggie’s handiwork. “Good job,” he said, right before he drilled a Taser into the big man’s side, taking out his biggest problem first. Then he swung the two by four high into the air and down with all the force he could muster onto Colin’s head. Tawny couldn’t believe the sound. The body of the puny Cockney slammed into the floor, felled by one sickening blow, opening a gash on the back of his skull. He sank to the floor next to her in a heap, expelling a fatal-sounding last breath.
Reggie jerked and twitched, making horrible noises resembling an animal caught in a trap. But seeing his lover sprawled bloody beside him, he marshaled his strength to rise like a leviathan out of the deep while emitting a low, raspy growl that gained force as he rose.
Mario didn’t wait for him to get up off all fours. “Don’t look,” he said.
Tawny closed her eyes and turned away, but the thud of wood on bone was unmistakable, not once but twice. A whooshing sound from Reggie’s lungs ended in silence. Turning slowly, she saw his massive hulk draped over his partner, blood and bone and brain matter spattered everywhere, including on her. Tears stung her eyes, and she thought she’d be sick. Bile threatened to erupt, and she swallowed it down by sheer force of will. But resolve alone couldn’t stop sobs from exploding in a steady, relentless burst, generating tremors to ripple through her body.
Mario, breathing hard and sickly pale, leaned on the blood-stained weapon, then slowly collapsed to the floor. Focusing on her, he said breathlessly, “Sorry you had to witness that, but I had no choice.”
She gained control, but her voice quavered. “We all have a choice.”
He struggled to rise. “I must leave now. I have a terrible headache. Strange, I rarely get them, but I have a doozey tonight. I’m sorry it has to end this way, Tawny. I really am.”
What did that mean?
He picked up the used strip of tape, avoiding the sticky puddle metastasizing on the floor, and reached to place it across her mouth.
“Wait! End what way? You’re going to leave me here to die? Like this?”
“This building, along with the entire block, is scheduled for demolition tomorrow at six a.m. The six floors above will tumble down on top of you. If you’re lucky, it’ll be quick, maybe even painless.” He met her gaze. “Maybe not.”
Panic gripped her. “Why not just shoot me? Why leave me like this?”
“It’ll look like those two were holding you here when the building collapsed on the three of you.”
“But…but the police will know those two died hours before the building came down. You won’t get away with it.”
His eyes flickered at half-mast. “Yes, I know, but it won’t matter.”
“Then why?” she asked.
“Loose ends, Tawny. I never leave loose ends.”
“I wouldn’t have given you up, you know.”
He smiled. “Yes, you would have. Everyone does in the end.” He slapped the tape across her mouth. “Can’t have you crying out, sorry. Now, I have a car to get rid of, then I’
m going home for some badly needed rest.” He turned and dragged one foot after the other, until he was out the door and out of sight. She heard his slow footfalls on the stairs until they faded into the silent night.
* * * * *
The phone jarred Linc awake. He checked his watch. Four a.m. Where was everyone? He vaguely remembered Dennis leaving, signaling the unspoken reality that they couldn’t do anything more tonight. Linc stayed at the station, unwilling to give up. He checked and rechecked every construction site in New Jersey, every building or property owned by Mario Russo, every false lead. Only to wind up at square one. His compulsion to find Tawny finally succumbed to the demands of his body, and he fell asleep at his desk.
“Walsh,” he answered groggily.
“Clauson here. Thought you’d want to know. Mario Russo crashed his car early this morning. EMS took him to Downstate.”
“How bad?”
“The accident wasn’t bad, but the report I have is that Russo’s comatose. Might have had a heart attack or something, but the cop who filed the report said he was spattered with blood. I’ve already called Harry. I’m on my way there now.”
“I’ll meet you,” Linc said, already out the door.
Hold on, you son of a bitch. Don’t you fucking die on me. Not yet.
Chapter Forty-Two
Two Plus Two
It took Linc less than twenty minutes in the light traffic to drive to the hospital. He parked by Clauson’s car, and Harry rolled in right behind Linc. They hurried inside the emergency room, half-filled, even in the early morning hours.
“Doctors think he might have had a heart attack or a stroke,” Clauson said, “but it could be the cancer. They’re doing tests now. Whatever, he’s in bad shape.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He was unconscious when they brought him in. Paramedic said the blood spatter wasn’t from the accident. Russo didn’t have a cut on him.”
That meant someone else’s blood. Was it Tawny’s blood? Was he too late? “Any way to talk to him?”
Clauson didn’t even bother to answer the question. “If I hadn’t lost him—”
“Not your fault. I shouldn’t have let her go in last night. It didn’t feel right, and I let her go anyway.”
Clauson put his hand on Linc’s shoulder. “I’m going to find the doctor. See if there’s any change in Russo’s status.”
“You couldn’t have stopped her,” Harry said. “She saw Martell yesterday. Maybe he said something that got her thinking he killed the Dyson girl, and she wanted proof before she said anything.”
Linc stopped. He stared at Harry a long time, almost as if he were seeing through him. His heart almost stopped. “You…you knew Tawny was at Martell’s. And you knew Martell was dead. How?”
“It was all over the news, Linc.”
“No. Not initially. Last evening, when Dennis and I were on the way back from Martell’s, I tried calling to tell you, but your phone went to voicemail, and I never got around to it. The news wasn’t made public until long after. I purposely told the guys at the 62 to put a lid on Martell’s death because it jeopardized Tawny. Then, when you called me back, you asked me if Tawny knew about Martell. Later, after the news broke, you said if Russo knew Tawny saw Reggie at Martell’s she’d be in serious trouble.” He shook his head. “Something like that. The detectives surely called Martell’s wife, and she called Russo. No one else knew. But you knew, Harry.”
Harry rarely lost his composure. Calm and steady. That was Harry. But Linc saw it now. The nervous reaction, the sputter.
“Someone must have called me. I don’t know. I can’t remember who.”
The picture forming in Linc’s mind was so preposterous he didn’t want to believe it. The man who meant the most to him, the beacon who’d saved him from being passed from one foster home to another, probably from one jail to another, had sold his soul to the devil. Dazed, he stumbled to a seat in the waiting room, his whole world collapsing inside him. Nothing made sense anymore.
Harry joined him. “It’s not what you think.”
“No? Then what is it? How did you know something you couldn’t have known? There’s only one way. Russo. He’s been ahead of us every step of the way. He knew Tawny would be at Cooper’s tonight. I sure as hell didn’t tell him. He knew enough to block Clauson’s car. I didn’t tell him that either.” Linc covered his face with his hands, rubbed his eyes. He mustered the courage to face Harry. “How long?”
Harry shook his head. “Don’t go there, Linc. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Linc rocked in his seat, his stomach tied in a knot. “My God, you know where she is.”
“You’re way off base.” Harry’s face tightened, and he leaned into Linc. “Leave it alone, son. This has nothing to do with you.”
Linc struggled for breath. “It has everything to do with me. Where is she?”
“She’ll ruin your career, your life. You’ll be right back where you started when I took you off the streets.”
“Jesus, Harry. How could you? Russo of all people. What did he have on you?”
“Doctors aren’t talking,” Clauson said, joining the two men. He glanced from Harry to Linc. “Hey, did I interrupt something? Family business, maybe?”
“Yeah,” Linc said, staring at Harry’s gray face. “Family business.” He forced his gaze away to face Clauson. “Jim, do you mind. I need a couple of minutes more with Harry.”
Clauson shrugged. “No problem. You sick, Harry? You look terrible.”
“I’m fine. Give us a minute, will ya?”
“Sure. I’ll be over there.” Looking confused, Clauson sauntered over to the nurse’s station. He glanced once over his shoulder.
Harry leaned back in his chair, avoiding Linc’s eyes.
“Talk to me, Harry.”
Harry stared straight ahead, his breathing slow and steady. After a few minutes, he spoke in a dull monotone. “It was right after Davey died. You know the story, my son had been sick for over two years, in and out of hospitals, treatments, everything we could do to keep him alive. Insurance paid for most of the medical bills, but we were still left with an exorbitant amount. Out of my reach, really. I was just starting at the agency.” He glanced at Linc for the first time. “You don’t do this work for the money. You know what beginners make, and that was thirty years ago.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. “Russo was making his bones in his father’s organization. Hard to say now, but my bosses thought, as far as mobsters, he was one of the better ones.” Harry’s laugh reeked of sarcasm. “Now there’s an oxymoron for you, a good mobster. But Mario Russo was more a split personality, the good mobster―honest construction company, stayed out of drugs and prostitution to the detriment of the bottom line―but he was also the cold-hearted son of a bitch who could put a bullet between the eyes of anyone he perceived to betray him, without so much as a shred of remorse.”
Linc watched him, aware that every word Harry spoke drove a wedge into his heart and between them. Nothing in his life would ever be the same.
“We’d picked up Carlito Giavelli, an upper level mobster in Russo’s father’s band of criminals. He’d bartered his way into witness protection by promising to sing every song in the program: names, dates, the works. He was a piece of shit. I was on watch detail. Every one of us would have rather seen him get the chair—back then, that’s what it was. We had him in a safe house. Remember the case?”
Linc nodded, knowing now where this was going and why he’d heard the story from everyone but Harry.
“Russo picked me, not because I was young—the young ones are idealistic, eager to save the world from the bad guys. No, he picked me because he knew about Davey. Knew I was in over my head financially, about to lose my house, my wife, everything I owned, partly from lack of money, partly because I couldn’t cope with the loss of my son. It was a one-time deal, he promised. My bills would be paid, and I’d be ridding the world of a lowly piece
of scum.” Harry smiled. “Funny thing, I agreed with him. Giavelli was that and more. He once killed a rival for a woman by cutting off parts of his anatomy while the guy was still alive. Started with fingers, then toes, then hands. He saved the guy’s gonads for last. Then he watched him bleed out.”
Linc had heard the story and thought Giavelli was the type he’d want to practice the eye for an eye adage on. “So you told him where Giavelli was stashed.”
Harry nodded. “I made him promise not to hurt my partner. He agreed. But Brian had a sixth sense. He could smell trouble coming. Russo’s hired guns blew off the lock on the door and came in shooting. Brian was ready for them, but he didn’t stand a chance. They shot Brian, shot me, and shot Giavelli. It was a bloodbath.”
Harry’s eyes had filled with tears when he turned to Linc. “No one considered I had anything to do with the murder. Hell, I almost died from my wounds, but I’ve lived with that guilt for thirty years, always on the edge of turning myself in. I should have, but I didn’t have the guts. When Ruth died, I thought I could end the guilt. I can’t tell you how many times I put the gun in my mouth, but I didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. I thought I could make up for it by being a good agent, but Russo lied. I’ve been in his pocket ever since but only to give up some piece of shit who’d have been on the public’s dole in prison. Most of the time, I was happy to oblige, ridding the world of one more cancer on society. I never compromised what we might call the good guys, and I only took his money one more time, so I could send it to my partner’s widow. A lot of money, Linc, but it still didn’t make up for what I’d done. I’ll never come to terms with that.”
“No, I don’t imagine you could.”
“In my defense, I’ve been a good agent, done some good things. You know that. I’ve never helped put down anyone who didn’t deserve it. Never.”
Linc felt as if his insides had been torn out of him. “So you set yourself up as Lord and God over who lived or died, who deserved it and who didn’t, right, Harry? And what about Tawny? Is she dispensable? Does she deserve to die?”
