grateful.”
“They won’t have kept records.”
“Yes, sir, but they might remember something.”
“They’re in the business of not remembering.”
“But the human mind never forgets, Don Tetragna. No matter how hard it tries, it
never really forgets.”
“How true. And you swear that the man you seek is not a member of any Family?”
“I swear it.”
“This execution must not in any way be traced to my Family.”
“I swear it.”
Don Tetragna closed his eyes again, but not for as long as he had closed them
before. When he opened them, he smiled broadly but, as always, it was a
humorless smile. He was the least jolly fat man Vince had ever seen. “When your
father married a Swedish girl rather than one of his own people, his family
despaired and expected the worst. But your mother was a good wife, unquestioning
and obedient. And they produced you—a most handsome son. But you’re more than
handsome. You’re a good soldier, Vincent. You have done fine, clean work for the
Families in New York and New Jersey, for those in Chicago, and also for us on
this coast. Not very long ago, you did me the great service of crushing the
cockroach Pantangela.”
“For which you paid me most generously, Don Tetragna,”
The Screwdriver waved one hand dismissively. “We’re all paid for our labors. But
we’re not talking money here. Your years of loyalty and good service are worth
more than money. Therefore, you are owed at least this One favor.”
“Thank you, Don Tetragna.”
“You’ll be given the names of those who provide such papers in this City, and
I’ll see that they are all forewarned of your visit. They’ll cooperate fully.”
“If you say they will,” Vince said, rising and bowing with only his head and
shoulders, “I know that it is true.”
The don motioned him to Sit down. “But before you attend to this private affair,
I’d like you to take another contract. There’s a man in Oakland who is giving me
much grief. He thinks I can’t touch him because he’s politically well connected
and well guarded. His name is Ramon Velazquez. This will be a difficult job,
Vincent.”
Vince carefully concealed his frustration and displeasure. He did not want to
take on a troublesome hit right now. He wanted to concentrate on tracking down
Travis Cornell and the dog. But he knew Tetragna’s contract was more a demand
than an offer. To get the names of the people who sold false papers, he must
first waste Velazquez.
He said, “I would be honored to squash any insect that has stung you. And
there’ll be no charge this time.”
“Oh, I’d insist on paying you, Vincent.”
As ingratiatingly as he knew how, Vince smiled and said, “Please, Don Tetragna,
let me do this favor. It would give me great pleasure.”
Tetragna appeared to consider the request, though this was what he expected—a
free hit in return for helping Vince. He put both hands on his enormous belly
and patted himself. “I am such a lucky man. Wherever I turn, people want to do
me favors, kindnesses.”
“Not lucky, Don Tetragna,” Vince said, sick of their mannered conversation. “You
reap what you sow, and if you reap kindness it is because of the seeds of
greater kindness you’ve sown so broadly.”
Beaming, Tetragna accepted his offer to waste Velazquez for nothing. The
nostrils of his porcine nose flared as if he had smelled something good to eat,
and he said, “But now tell me . . . to satisfy my curiosity, what will you do to
this other man when you catch him, this man with whom you have a personal
vendetta?”
Blow his brains out and snatch his dog, Vince thought.
But he knew the kind of crap The Screwdriver wanted to hear, the same hard-assed
stuff most of these guys wanted to hear from him, their favorite hired killer so
he said, “Don Tetragna, I intend to cut off his balls, cut off his ears, cut out
his tongue—and only then put an ice pick through his heart and stop his clock.”
The fat man’s eyes glittered with approval. His nostrils flared.
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