Part 12 (1/2)

So I was right-that guy was was an insurance investigator, with plenty of clout behind him. I didn't know if he had enough to pull tax records. On me, I'm talking about. But one thing I was sure of: ”Robert Johnson” might not be his real name, but him being the kind of man to take a job all the way, an insurance investigator, with plenty of clout behind him. I didn't know if he had enough to pull tax records. On me, I'm talking about. But one thing I was sure of: ”Robert Johnson” might not be his real name, but him being the kind of man to take a job all the way, that that was real. I was glad it wasn't me he wanted. was real. I was glad it wasn't me he wanted.

That jewelry-store owner, I wonder if he knew about the gray cloud yet. What I knew for sure was that he had nothing to trade. He wouldn't have Solly's name, much less me or Big Matt's.

Solly was a master storyteller. Like that wild card, Jessop. I didn't even know if there was was any Albie who'd vouched for him. But when I thought about that gray man, I could see a lot more reasons why Solly would want to be sure of this Jessop guy. Even dead sure. any Albie who'd vouched for him. But when I thought about that gray man, I could see a lot more reasons why Solly would want to be sure of this Jessop guy. Even dead sure.

The best time to find what I wanted was mid-afternoon. The best place was outside Manhattan.

The club's parking lot was nearly empty. Inside, a single dancer phoned it in on the pole. Half a dozen guys were watching, none of them sitting together. The whole joint was about as s.e.xy as a morgue.

When the waitress came over, I told her what I wanted. She answered on autopilot: ”Got anybody special in mind, big boy?”

”If I had my choice, it'd be you.”

”For real?”

”You're the best-looking thing in this place, by far.”

”Once, maybe. But I'm not a dancer, not anymore. We're not supposed to...Oh, f.u.c.k it. What can he do, fire me? But could you go another fifty, hon? If I don't give the girl who's up there now something, she'll tell the boss.”

”A buck and a half?”

”I know,” she said, kind of sad. ”For that kind of money, you could get-”

”A bargain,” I told her.

She leaned all over me, whispered, ”You won't be sorry, I swear.”

Then she told me to give her a few minutes, and how to find the room in the back.

They had a guy posted on the other side of the curtains-maybe to make the girls feel safer. Long hair, cowboy mustache, dungaree vest. I guess he was supposed to be some kind of biker. Looked like a guy who threw weights every day when he was Inside, then stopped the minute he got out. From the size of his gut, I figured he must have been out for years.

He eye-f.u.c.ked me just to play the role, but his heart wasn't in it-if he still had any left. I figured the girl had tipped him, too. Not to get me past Fatso, just so she could show off a little.

And she was right. I wasn't sorry at all.

”So? You find everything you needed? At that loft, I'm talking about.”

”Yeah,” I told Solly. ”Thanks. You had it set up real slick.”

He looked at me funny. Just for a second, but I caught it.

”You don't mind Ken's daughter getting a look at you, right? I mean, we went over this. You might need to stay here sometime. Who knows how things are gonna go?”

”n.o.body,” I said. ”n.o.body knows.”

”You believe that?”

”Huh?”

”By me, 'n.o.body,' that's people. Not...” He pointed at the ceiling.

”You mean, like G.o.d or something?”

”There's no G.o.d 'or something.' Either there is or there isn't. A G.o.d, I'm saying.”

”Okay.”

”You got one?”

”One what?”

He took a deep breath. Let it out slow. ”All I'm asking, it's a simple question, Sugar. I'm not trying to get into your business. Some people, they get raised a certain way, it stays with them forever. Some trace of it, anyway. I knew a guy, Rico. He did contract hits. I even saw one go down.”

I gave him my listening face. You can't trip yourself up if all you do is listen.

”Only reason I was there,” Solly told me, ”it had to be out in public. No other way anyone was gonna get to the man who was on the spot. He lived in a fortress. Never went out without bodyguards. But, see, he had had to go out. If he couldn't show his face, the up-for-grabs stuff was all going over to the other guy. to go out. If he couldn't show his face, the up-for-grabs stuff was all going over to the other guy.

”Certain rackets, you'd think they're all...transactions, okay? Like a wh.o.r.ehouse. You pay the money, you buy some broad's time. Then you're done. That's all the customer ever sees. But what you need isn't just customers, it's the license to operate.”

”You mean the cops?” I asked him.

”Depends on how high-cla.s.s the operation is. But that's not what I'm trying to explain. If you want to open a house, you got to pay. Not some cop on the pad, that's pennies. The big money goes to whoever owns the territory.”

”Like that tax thing you were saying? Like with Ken?”

”Yeah, like that, only this is regular regular money. Every week, every month, every year. The collectors aren't leg-breakers. They're just like the paperboys out in the suburbs. Toss the paper on your porch every day, come and collect once a week. But the paperboy doesn't set the price for the paper, see? That all gets negotiated. And it's never a percentage. It's not like these places keep receipt books. money. Every week, every month, every year. The collectors aren't leg-breakers. They're just like the paperboys out in the suburbs. Toss the paper on your porch every day, come and collect once a week. But the paperboy doesn't set the price for the paper, see? That all gets negotiated. And it's never a percentage. It's not like these places keep receipt books.

”Now, this time I was telling you about, the time I saw a contract kill up close, it was over that kind of thing. Guy's running a wh.o.r.ehouse, he knows he's gonna have to pay someone someone. But he's not gonna pay more than one.”

I moved my head and shoulders a little, so Solly could see I was paying attention, but maybe not getting everything he was saying.

”Look at it this way, Sugar. Paperboy knocks on the door. Woman opens it. He says he's there to collect for last week. The woman says, 'My husband already paid you for last week.' What's the kid gonna do?”

”I don't know.”

”That doesn't matter. Here's what matters: that woman's not going to be paying that paperboy. See?”

”Yeah. Two big players were in a war over who gets some territory. Maybe even new territory ...?”

”Right! Okay, now I'm on this bench in Central Park. Just an old man, reading his paper, taking the sun. At an angle across from me, there's Rico. Him and this broad; you couldn't really see her face, what with her hair being so long and those big round sungla.s.ses.

”Not that anyone'd be looking at her face. Whatever those implant things cost, this broad, she'd paid double. Probably why she couldn't afford a bra.

”The mark, he's strolling down the path, big slabs of beef on each side of him. Going for an outdoor meet with a guy who's supposed to be like a go-between.

”The woman yells something at Rico in Spanish. Rico gets to his feet, like 'I don't f.u.c.king need this this,' you know what I mean? He turns like he's gonna walk off, but then I see him cross himself, the way you see some fighters do just before the bell.