you believe such a thing?
He threatens little babies! No vengeance, regardless of how justified
it might be, should ever touch innocent children.”
“He’s actually told you that he’ll do all of those things?” Rebecca
asked. “When? When did he tell you?”
“Several times.”
“You’ve had face-to-face meetings?”
“No. He wouldn’t survive a face-to-face meeting.”
The banker image had vanished. There was no veneer of gentility now.
The old man looked more reptilian than ever. Like a snake in a
thousand-dollar suit. A very poisonous snake.
He said, “This crudball Lavelle told me these things on the phone. My
unlisted home number. I keep having the number changed, but the creep
gets the new one every time, almost as soon as it’s installed. He tells
me . . . he says . . . after he has killed my friends, nephews,
sons, grandkids, then . . . he says he’s going to . . . he says
he’s going to . . .”
For a moment, recalling Lavelle’s arrogant threats, Carramazza was
unable to speak; anger locked his jaws; his teeth were clenched, and the
muscles in his neck and cheeks were bulging. His dark eyes, always
disturbing, now shone with a rage so intense, so inhuman that it
communicated itself to Jack and sent a chill up his spine.
Eventually, Carramazza regained control of himself.
When he spoke, however, his voice never rose above a fierce, frigid
whisper. “This scum, this nigger bastard, this piece of shit-he tells
me he’ll slaughter my wife, my Nina. Slaughter was the word he used.
And when he’s butchered her, he says, he’ll then take my daughter from
me, too.” The old man’s voice softened when he spoke of his daughter.
“My Rosie. My beautiful Rosie, the light of my life. Twenty-seven, but
she looks seventeen. And smart, too. A medical student. Going to be a
doctor. Starts her-internship this year. Skin like porcelain. The
loveliest eyes you’ve ever seen.” He was quiet for a moment, seeing
Rosie in his mind’s eye, and then his whisper became harsh again:
“Lavelle says he’ll rape my daughter and then cut her to pieces,
dismember her . . . in front of my eyes. He has the balls to say
such things to me!” With that last declaration, Carramazza sprayed
spittle on Jack’s overcoat. For a few seconds, the old man said nothing
more; he just took deep, shuddering breaths. His talonlike fingers
closed into fists, opened, closed, opened, closed. Then: “I want the
bastard stopped.”
“You’ve put all your people into the search for him?” Jack asked. “Used
all your sources?”
“Yes.”
“But you still can’t find him.”
“Nooo, ” Carramazza said, and in the drawing-out of that one word, he
revealed a frustration almost as great as his rage. “He’s left his
place in the Village, gone to ground, hiding out. That’s why I’m
bringing this information to you. You can put out an APB now that
you’ve got his picture. Then every cop in the city will be looking for
him, and that’s a lot more men than I’ve got. You can even put it on
the TV news, in the papers, and then virtually everyone in the whole
damned city will have an eye out for him. If I can’t get to him, then
at least I want you to nail him and put him away. Once he’s behind
bars. . .”
“You’ll have ways of reaching him in prison,” Rebecca said, finishing
the thought to which Carramazza would not give voice. “If we arrest
him, he’ll never stand trial. He’ll be killed in jail.”
Carramazza wouldn’t confirm what she had said, but they all knew it was
true.
Jack said, “You’ve told us Lavelle is motivated by revenge. But for
what? What did you do to him that would make him want to exterminate
your entire family, even your grandchildren?”
“I won’t tell you that. I can’t tell you because, if I did, I might be
compromising myself.”
“More likely incriminating yourself,” Rebecca said.
Jack slipped the photograph of Lavelle back into the envelope. “I’ve
been wondering about your brother Dominick.”
Gennaro Carramazza seemed to shrivel and age at the mention of his dead