There were two men standing outside the booth, and as the captain started to step around them, one of them blocked his way. He held up an identification card.
“Captain Tanner? I’m Lieutenant West, Internal Security Division. The Police Commissioner would like to have a word with you.”
Michael Moretti hung up the receiver slowly. He knew with a sure animal instinct that Nick Vito had lied to him. Thomas Colfax was still alive. That would explain everything that was happening. He was the one who had turned traitor. And Michael had sent Nick Vito out to kill Fiore and Colella. Jesus, he had been stupid! Outsmarted by a dumb hired gunman into wasting his two top men! He was filled with an icy rage.
He dialed a number and spoke briefly into the telephone. After he made a second telephone call, he sat back and waited.
When he heard Nick Vito on the phone, Michael forced himself to keep the fury he felt out of his voice. “How did it go, Nick?”
“Okay, boss. Just like you said. They both suffered a lot.”
“I can always count on you, Nick, can’t I?”
“You know you can, boss.”
“Nick, I want you to do me one last favor. One of the boys left a car at the corner of York and Ninety-fifth Street. It’s a tan Camaro. The keys are behind the sun visor. We’re going to use it for a job tonight. Drive it over here, will you?”
“Sure, boss. How soon do you need it? I was going to—”
“I need it now. Right away, Nick.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Good-bye, Nick.”
Michael replaced the receiver. He wished he could be there to watch Nick Vito blow himself to hell, but he had one more urgent thing to do.
Jennifer Parker would be on her way back soon, and he wanted to get everything ready for her.
59
It’s like some kind of goddamned Hollywood movie production, Major General Roy Wallace thought, with my prisoner as the star.
The large conference room at the United States Marine Corps base was filled with technicians from the Signal Corps, scurrying around setting up cameras and sound and lighting equipment, using an arcane jargon.
“Kill the brute and hit the inkies. Bring a baby over here…”
They were getting ready to put Thomas Colfax’s testimony on film.
“It’s extra insurance,” District Attorney Di Silva had argued. “We know that no one can get to him, but it will be good to have it on the record, anyway.” And the others had gone along with him.
The only person absent was Thomas Colfax. He would be brought in at the last minute, when everything was in readiness for him.
Just like a goddamn movie star.
Thomas Colfax was having a meeting in his cell with David Terry of the Justice Department, the man in charge of creating new identities for witnesses who wished to disappear.
“Let me explain a bit about the Federal Witness Security Program,” Terry said. “When the trial is over, we’ll send you to whichever country you choose. Your furniture and other belongings will be shipped to a warehouse in Washington, with a coded number. We’ll forward it to you later. There won’t be any way for anyone to trace you. We’ll supply you with a new identity and background and, if you wish, a new appearance.”
“I’ll take care of that.” He trusted no one to know what he was going to do with his appearance.
“Ordinarily when we set people up with a new identity, we find jobs for them in whatever field they’re suited for, and we supply them with some money. In your case, Mr. Colfax, I understand that money is no problem.”
Thomas Colfax wondered what David Terry would say if he knew how much money was salted away in his bank accounts in Germany, Switzerland and Hong Kong. Even Thomas Colfax had not been able to keep track of it all, but a modest estimate, he would guess, would be nine or ten million dollars.
“No,” Colfax said, “I don’t think money will be a problem.”
“All right, then. The first thing to decide is where you would like to go. Do you have any particular area in mind?”