The ten kilos he had taken from Eddie Morello’s car were in a labeled cardboard box, sitting on the third shelf, right where they were supposed to be. He took the box down and looked to be sure. Each of the ten one-kilo bags had to be opened, tested, and reseated. The lab technician who’d done it had just initialed the tags, and his initials were easy to fake. Charon reached into his shirt and pants, pulling out plastic bags of Four-X sugar, which was, of the same color and consistency as the heroin. Only his office would ever touch this evidence, and he could control that. In a month he’d send a memo recommending destruction of the evidence, since the case on it was closed. His captain would approve. He’d dump it down the drain with several other people watching, and the plastic bags would be burned, and nobody would ever know. It certainly seemed simple enough. Within three minutes he was walking away from the evidence racks.
‘Numbers check out?’
‘Yeah, Harry, thanks,’ Charon said, waving on the way out.
‘Somebody get the fuckin’ phone,’ Piaggi growled. Who the hell would be calling here, anyway? It was one of the Philly guys who walked over, taking the time to light a cigarette.
‘Yeah?’ The man turned. ‘Henry, it’s for you.’
‘What the hell?’ Tucker walked over.
‘Hi, Henry,’ Kelly said. He’d wired a field phone into the building’s telephone line, cutting it off from the outside world. He sat there, next to the canvas-covered instrument, having rung the other end just by turning the crank. It seemed rather primitive, but it was something familiar and comfortable to him, and it worked.
‘Who’s this?’-
‘The name’s Kelly, John Kelly,’ he told him.
‘So who’s John Kelly?’
‘Four of you killed Pam. You’re the only one left, Henry,’ the voice said. ‘I got the rest. Now it’s your turn.’ Tucker turned and looked around the room as though he expected to find the voice there. Was this some kind of sick joke that they were playing on him?
‘How – how’d you get this number? Where are you?’
‘Close enough, Henry,’ Kelly told him. ‘You nice and comfy in there with your friends?’
‘Look, I don’t know who you are -‘
‘I told you who I am. You’re in there with Tony Piaggi. I saw you at his restaurant the other night. How was your dinner, by the way? Mine was just great,’ the voice taunted.
Tucker stood straight up, his hand tight on the phone. ‘So what the fuck are you gonna do, boy?’
‘I ain’t gonna kiss you on both cheeks, boy. I got Rick, and I got Billy, and I got Burt, and now I’m going to get you. Do me a favor, put Mr Piaggi on the line’, the voice suggested.
‘Tony, you better come here,’ Tucker said.
‘What is it, Henry?’ Piaggi tripped on his chatr getting up. So damned tired from ?ll this. Those bastards in Philly better have the cash all ready. Henry handed him the phone.
‘Who’s this?’
‘Those two guys on the boat, the ones you gave to Henry? I got ’em. I got the other two this morning, too.’
‘What the fuck is this?’
‘You figure it out.’ The line went dead. Piaggi looked over at his partner, and since he couldn’t get an answer from the phone, he’d get one from Tucker.
‘Henry, what the hell is this?’
Okay, let’s see what that stirred up. Kelly allowed himself a sip of water and a Snickers. He was on the third story of the building. Some sort of warehouse, he thought, massively constructed of reinforced concrete, a good place to be when The Bomb went off. The tactical problem was an interesting one. He couldn’t just burst inside. Even if he’d had a machine gun – he didn’t – four against one was long odds, especially when you didn’t know what was inside the door, especially when stealth was something you couldn’t count on as an ally, and so he’d try another approach. He’d never done anything like this before, but from his perch he could cover every door of the building. The windows in the back were bricked up. The only ways out were under his sight, and at just over a hundred yards, he hoped that they’d try it. Kelly shouldered the rifle, but kept his head up, sweeping left and right in an even, patient way.
‘It’s him,’ Henry said quietly so the others couldn’t hear.
‘Who?’
‘The guy who did all those pushers, the guy who got Billy and the rest, the guy who did the ship. It’s him.’
‘Well, who the fuck is him, Henry?’
‘I don’t know, goddamn it!’ The voice was higher now, and the other two heads looked up. Tucker got more control of himself. ‘He says he wants us to come out.’
‘Oh, that’s just great – what are we up against? Wait a minute.’ Riaggi lifted the phone but got no dial tone. ‘What the hell?’
Kelly heard the buzz and lifted his handset. ‘Yeah, what is it?’
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘It’s Tony, right? Why did you have to kill Doris, Tony? She wasn’t any danger to you. Now I have to do you, too.’
‘I didn’t -‘
‘You know what I mean, but thanks for bringing those two down here. I wanted to tie that loose end up, but I didn’t expect to have the chance. They’re in the morgue by now, I suppose.’
‘Trying to scare me?’ the man demanded over the scratchy phone line.
‘No, just trying to kill you,’ Kelly told him.
‘Fuck!’ Piaggi slammed the phone down.
‘He says he saw us at the restaurant, man. He says he was right there.’ It was clear to the other two that something was amiss. They were looking up now, mainly curious, but wary as they saw their two superiors in an agitated state. What the hell was this all about?
‘How could he know – oh,’ Piaggi said, his voice trailing off to a quieter tone. ‘Yeah, they knew me, didn’t they … ? Jesus.’
There was only one window with clear glass. The others had glass bricks, the four-inch-square blocks favored for letting light in without being easily broken by vandals. They also prevented anyone from seeing out. The one window with clear glass had a crank, allowing the panes to open upward at an angle. This office had probably been set up by some asshole of a manager who didn’t want his secretaries looking out the windows. Well, the bastard had gotten his wish. Piaggi cranked the window open – tried to, the three moving panes had only gone forty degrees before the mechanism froze.
Kelly saw it move and wondered if he should announce his presence in a more direct way. Better not to, he thought, better to be patient. Waiting grows hard on those who don’t know what’s happening.
The remarkable thing was that it was ten o’clock in the morning now, a clean, sunny late-summer day. There was truck traffic on O’Donnell Street, only half a block away, and some private autos as well, driving past, going about their business. Perhaps their drivers saw the tall abandoned building Kelly was in, wondering, as he was, what it had been constructed for; seeing the four automobiles parked at the former trucking building, wondering if that business was starting up again; but if they did, it wasn’t worth anything more than a passing thought for people who had work to do. The drama was being played in plain sight, and only the players knew.
‘I don’t see shit,’ Piaggi said, squatting down to look out the windows. There’s nobody around.’
This is the guy who did the pushers, Tucker was telling himself as he stood away from the window. Five or six of ’em. Killed Rick with a fuckin’ knife …
Tony had picked the building. It was to be an ostensible part of a small interstate trucking concern whose owners were connected and very careful players. Just perfect, he’d thought, so close to major highways, quiet part of town, little police activity, just an anonymous building doing anonymous work. Perfect, Henry had thought on seeing it.
Oh, yeah, just perfect…
‘Let me look.’ It wasn’t time to back off. Henry Tucker didn’t think of himself as a coward. He’d fought and killed, himself, and not just women. He’d spent years establishing himself, and the first part of the process hadn’t been without bloodshed. Besides, he couldn’t appear to be weak now, not in front of Tony and two ‘soldiers’ ‘Nothin’,’ he agreed.
‘Let’s try something.’ Piaggi walked to the phone and lifted it. There wasn’t a dial tone, just a buzz …
Kelly looked at the field phone, listening to the noise it made. He’d let it be for the moment, let them do the waiting now. Though the tactical situation was of his design, still his options were limited. Talk, don’t talk. Shoot, don’t shoot. Move, don’t move. With only three basic choices to be made, he had to select his actions carefully to achieve the desired effect. This battle was not a physical one. Like most battles, it was a thing of the mind.