Angel Face, page 22
“That looks like what the FBI ride around in,” she said.
“Like I said,” Vic said. “Really tiny dick.”
Vern guffawed. “We grabbed it off a gang boss,” he said. “Punk was worried about other bad guys gunning for him, so it’s got bulletproof glass, tinted past the legal limit of course, and armored door panels. It’s basically a tank. Gets shitty gas mileage, but anybody wants to stop you, they’ll need a damn rocket launcher to do it.”
“It doesn’t have machine-guns behind the headlights, does it?” Erin joked.
“Nah, but I heard they found an Uzi in the glove compartment.”
“What do you guys usually do with something like this?”
“We sell most of the confiscated vehicles at auction,” Vern said. “But we can’t sell this one. You think we want some joker running around New York in a friggin’ armored car? The ones we can’t sell, we send to a recycling plant on Long Island. They shred ‘em into scrap metal. Give it a week, this would’ve gone down there. How long you need it for?”
Erin hadn’t thought about that. She buried a sudden mad impulse to tell him she only needed it for a day, after which the Long Island plant wouldn’t have to bother. It’d be scrap metal no matter what.
“A week should be plenty,” she said.
“Sure. Just sign these forms.” He handed her the clipboard and a pen. She signed.
“Keys?” she asked.
“Here.” He produced a key ring and handed it over. “You wanna be a little careful when you start driving her. She corners kinda funny, probably on account of all that extra weight in the door panels.”
“I always wanted one of these,” Vic said, looking the massive vehicle over in much the same way Vern had ogled Erin.
“Because you’ve got a tiny dick?” Erin asked innocently.
“My dick is none of your business.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“I see what you did there.”
“Did you need a magnifying glass to see it?”
“Okay, okay. Where are you going with this thing? Back to the Eightball?”
“I’ve got a place to stash it. I’ll meet you back at the station.”
Vern was right. After driving her Charger with its eight-cylinder police engine, the armored Suburban handled like an overloaded oil tanker. Erin drove carefully, leaving wide margins. Rolf sat in the shotgun seat, enjoying a rare opportunity to ride up front. His tongue hung out and he watched the New York streets with great interest.
Erin called Carlyle on the way. “I’ve got the car,” she reported. “Where do you want it?”
“Corky knows a mechanic just down the street,” he said. “Take it to O’Leary’s Body Shop. I’ll be waiting.”
“Will Mr. O’Leary be discreet?”
“He works with Corky all the time. He knows to keep his mouth shut.”
Mr. O’Leary was a grizzled man with a salt-and-pepper beard, several missing teeth, and only three fingers on his right hand. When Erin carefully drove the Suburban into the shop, he was standing watching her, hands on his hips, another mechanic next to him. Both men wore grease-stained overalls and work shirts.
Erin did a double-take. The other man was Carlyle, less dressed-up than she’d ever seen him. He smiled and gave her a wink he’d doubtless learned from Corky. O’Leary grunted and walked away.
“I’ve paid him to take the rest of the day off,” Carlyle explained. “In the meantime, I’ve the run of the place.”
“That sounds expensive,” she said.
“Not compared to some of the things I’ve done.”
“I’ve never seen you so… disheveled.”
“You’d hardly expect me to wear a suit while disassembling an automobile,” he said. “What am I working with here?”
She explained. Carlyle listened, nodding and rubbing his chin.
“The armor’s a fine thing,” he said. “It’ll contain the blast and focus it upward. You ought to be able to stand within three to five meters. No closer than three, though. It’ll be safe, but noisy. Now I’d best get to work.”
“I’ll need to pick it up sometime this evening,” she said. “When will it be ready?”
“Any time after five ought to do.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving him a quick kiss and handing him the keys. Then she frowned. “Damn!”
“What?”
“I have to get back to the Eightball. My car’s there.”
“I’ll ask Ian to drop you off.”
“You know he’s been up all night, right? He may not be at his best.”
“Oh aye, but just try telling the lad to go home. Not to worry, Ian tired is worth three ordinary well-rested lads. He’s sticking around until this business is resolved. He does worry about the two of us.”
She smiled. “He’s right to worry. We do have a way of getting in trouble.”
“And out of it again,” he said. “Ta, darling. Do remember to leave time for acquiring our… additional passenger.”
“I’ll get to that. See you this evening.”
Ian got Erin and Rolf back to the Eightball without incident. Erin went straight to the garage, got into her Charger, and headed for the Hilton at JFK Airport. This required yet another trip across the East River. The airport was just a few miles from Canarsie Cemetery. If she’d had this plan a little earlier, she could have combined the trips. As it was, she was running up the mileage on her car.
Rolf didn’t care. He got to go for another car ride with his favorite person in the world. As far as he was concerned, this was the best of all possible plans.
Erin kept reflexively checking her rearview mirrors, looking for a tail. That was ridiculous. Even if the Mafia were following her around, it didn’t matter now. She was working for them. So what if they found out where Teresa was? The witness was only a few hours from apparent death. If the Mob knew Erin was going to see her, it would just seem like she was casing the joint and getting ready to make the hit. It would strengthen the illusion.
She still checked the mirrors. If Mafia thugs were on her ass, she’d rather know about it. She didn’t see anyone suspicious, but that didn’t make her feel much better. She had an unpleasant crawly feeling on her spine. The weather was playing hell with her nerves. She wished it would go ahead and rain. That might break the tension. But the clouds just kept piling up and getting darker.
She got to the airport hotel and parked. Then she remembered she didn’t know which room the Marshals were in. Nor did she have a direct line to them. So she had to call the main office and get patched through to Calley.
“Calley,” the Marshal said.
“This is O’Reilly,” she said. “I need to talk to your protectee.”
“Okay, I’ll get her on the line.”
“No, face to face.”
There was a pause. Then Calley said, “Why?” He didn’t sound happy.
“Some stuff about her testimony and the case. I’m in the parking lot. Don’t worry, I wasn’t followed.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’ve dealt with Mob guys before, Calley. Yeah, I’m sure. I just need the room number and I’ll be right up.”
“This isn’t good procedure, O’Reilly. You shouldn’t be here unless it’s an emergency.”
“I’m hoping it won’t become one. Look, I’m already here. What do you want me to do?”
He sighed. “Okay, room 519. Geez. I’ve never had this much trouble with protection details.”
Erin saw nothing out of the ordinary at the hotel. She didn’t like taking the elevator—Ian’s influence—but she did it anyway, knowing that the only gunmen in the building would be guys wearing stars. She and Rolf rode up to the fifth floor, got off, and walked to room 519. After a quick glance up and down the hallway, which was empty, she knocked.
The door opened a crack, showing the chain lock and the massive shape of Marshal Hodges. He looked at her, grunted, and unfastened the chain.
The Marshals had gotten two adjoining rooms. The connecting door stood open. Hodges and the Marshal who’d driven away from Teresa’s apartment were in 519. Calley and Teresa were in 517. Teresa was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking tense. When she saw Erin, she sprang to her feet and stared at her.
“If I could have the room for a few minutes, Marshal?” Erin asked Calley.
“Sure,” he said. Then, to Teresa, “We’ll be right next door, ma’am.” He joined his comrades in the other room.
Erin closed the connecting door and turned to face Teresa. “Ms. Tommasino, we need to talk about something important,” she said.
“What? What is it?” Teresa was wringing her hands nervously. “What’s happened now?”
Erin knew she had to handle this carefully. If she said the wrong thing, the woman might panic. Teresa might faint, or even worse, bolt.
“Teresa, you need to listen to me very carefully,” she said, laying a hand on Teresa’s shoulder. “I’m going to keep you safe. I promise. No matter what. As long as you do what I say, you’ll be okay.”
“You said I was safe before,” Teresa said. “That’s why I’m here, not at home.”
“But you can’t stay here,” Erin said. “I’ve got contacts on the street. Valentino Vitelli knows his son saw you. His son wouldn’t have hurt you, but the old man will do anything to protect his boy. Do you understand? Anything. We’ve been lucky so far. We got you out of your apartment just in time. But they’re looking for you. If they find you, they will kill you. But that’s not going to happen.”
Teresa’s flesh was trembling violently under Erin’s hand. Her eyes were very big and wide. “Oh God,” she whispered. “What am I going to do?”
“There’s only one way they’ll stop looking for you,” Erin went on. “They have to believe you’re not a threat.”
“Then I won’t testify,” Teresa said. “I’ll… I’ll sign something that swears I didn’t see anything!”
Erin shook her head. “That’s not how the Mafia operates,” she said. “The only way you’re not a threat to them is if you’re not alive. So we’re going to get you out of town. Tonight. And we’re going to do it in a way that makes it look like you’ve been killed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This evening, if we’re lucky, it’ll be raining. In any case, it’ll be dark. I’ll come back and tell the Marshals they’ve been compromised. I’ll have a car. You’ll go out to the car with me. Do you still have that light-blue coat you were wearing earlier?”
“Yes, of course,” Teresa said, bewildered. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“That’s good. It’s bright and conspicuous. You’ll wear that. You’ll get into the car when I tell you to. Inside, there’ll be another jacket for you, a police jacket. And a hat. You’ll change into those as quickly as you can. There’ll also be a body in the back seat with you.”
“A… body?” Teresa repeated.
“Yes,” Erin said. “We’ll be doing a switch. Just leave your blue coat on the seat next to it. Once you’ve got the police jacket and hat on, you’ll slide across to the other side of the car and get out. Close the door and walk away from the car. Don’t run, walk. One of my people will be waiting for you nearby. I’ll tell you where he’ll be, and what sort of car he’ll be driving. When you’re a little ways away from the other car, it’ll explode.”
Teresa just stared at her, mouth open.
“It’ll be loud and it’ll be scary,” Erin said. “When that happens, you’ll want to run. Don’t. Walk briskly. Don’t look around, don’t look back. The rest of us will be fine. Get in the car I’ll tell you to. My friend’s name is James. He’s skinny, redheaded, and smiles a lot. He’ll be watching for you. Once you get in that car, he’ll take care of the rest. He’ll look after you. You’ll be fine, Teresa, just fine. It’ll look like a car bombing killed you. Nobody will know different. Do you have any questions?”
Erin saw whole volumes of questions in Teresa’s eyes, but it took the schoolteacher a few moments to gather her wits.
“How… how big an explosion?” Teresa asked.
“Big enough. It’ll look and sound worse than it is. We’ve got our best explosives guys working on it. You won’t be in any danger.” Erin truly hoped that was true.
“Can I call my mother? To let her know I’m okay?”
“No. Absolutely not. You can’t call anyone, can’t talk to anyone. James will get you clean out of New York. Nobody else will know exactly where you are, and only a few people will know you’re still alive. That’s the best way we can guarantee your safety. But if your parents find out, they won’t be able to keep it a secret. Next thing you know, the Mafia will hear about it, and we’ll be in the same position as before, or worse.”
“But… but Mom will think I’m… dead. My whole family…”
Erin nodded patiently. “Yes, that’s the point. I’m sorry, Teresa. I know it’ll hurt them. But it won’t be forever. You’ve just got to look down the road to when you get to see them again. It’ll be like a miracle then.”
“How long?” Teresa asked in a very small voice.
“I don’t know exactly. That depends on the District Attorney. He’ll put the case together as fast as he can, but it’ll be a few months, I’m afraid.”
“Months?!” Teresa said in a strangled voice.
Erin nodded again. “I’m sorry,” she said. It was always an inadequate thing to say, but it felt especially pitiful now.
Teresa started to cry. Erin put out an arm and awkwardly held her. The woman’s shoulders shook with half-suppressed sobs.
“I… I should have… kept… kept… my mouth… shut,” Teresa gasped out. “Like my… my father… told me.”
“It would’ve come out the same,” Erin said. “As soon we arrested Angel Face and he told his dad you’d seen him with the bloody knife, they would’ve come after you. And if you hadn’t talked to us, you wouldn’t have us to protect you. Then your parents would be burying their daughter for real, instead of pretend. You’d probably already be dead.”
“Is this really the only way?”
“It’s the best way we could think of,” Erin said. “And you can’t tell the Marshals, either. They need to have a genuine reaction, and they don’t need to know. You need to act normal. It’s fine to be a little scared and tense, that’s normal for a woman in your position.”
“That won’t be too hard,” Teresa said, managing a weak and watery smile.
“It’ll be fine,” Erin said for what felt like the hundredth time. She wondered if it was even remotely true.
Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and, unsurprised, saw an unknown number.
“Excuse me,” she said to Teresa. Then she answered the phone. “O’Reilly.”
“Hello, love,” Corky Corcoran said. “I’m thinking you and I need to have a wee meeting.”
“Yeah,” Erin said. “I think we do.”
Chapter 23
“Erin, love, let me say how very honored I am that you’ve trusted me with this important job,” Corky said.
Erin glanced around the Laughing Man Café in Tribeca where Corky had suggested they meet. It was a few blocks from his love nest. The only people in sight were well-to-do New Yorkers, and not many of those. The two of them were sitting outdoors in spite of the looming thunderclouds, which had earned them a funny look from the waitress, but made it very unlikely anyone would be able to eavesdrop on them. Rolf was under the table, chin between his paws.
“I appreciate it,” she said. “Why’d you want to meet?”
“To go over the plan, of course,” he said. “We’ve information to exchange.”
“We could’ve done that over the phone.”
He grinned. “Ah, but then we’d miss the fine people-watching afforded by this excellent establishment, not to mention their unparalleled coffee.”
“What people-watching?” Erin took a sip of what was, indeed, excellent coffee.
His smile didn’t falter. “They’re staying indoors, I’d imagine, on account of the weather. The rain should be starting any moment now, and it’ll keep up most of the night, so they say.”
“Have you got a car?” Erin asked.
“One? Think bigger, love. I’ve all manner of automobiles lined up for the festivities.”
“Do any of them actually belong to you? Never mind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
“Every vehicle I’m borrowing will be returned to its owner, none the worse for wear,” he said. “I’ll be changing rides, naturally, after plucking our damsel off the street. Can’t be too careful.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that,” Erin said. “I’ve given her your description and first name. What’ll you be driving at the hotel?”
He sighed theatrically. “The least romantic getaway vehicle one can imagine. It’s a gray Corolla. I still can’t believe I’ll be driving it. If you’d rather, I could take my convertible.”
“The yellow BMW? Oh yeah, that’d be nice and inconspicuous. And a convertible? In a thunderstorm? I think we’d better stick with the Toyota.”
“As you say, love. Now, about the lass I’ll be transporting. Have you a picture about you?”
“No, but she’ll be hard to miss. She’ll be wearing an NYPD windbreaker and hat and she’ll be moving away from the blast. All the real cops will be looking at it. She’s about the same height as me, slightly heavier build, mid-thirties. Black hair, brown eyes, kind of a round face. Italian-American, obviously.”
“I’ll be needing her measurements,” he said.
“Corky! Don’t you ever think about anything else?”
“Come off it, love,” he said impatiently. “You’re the one who’s thinking improper thoughts. She won’t have her luggage, will she? So I’ll be needing to provide her with additional clothing.”
“Oh, right.” Erin felt slightly abashed. “Sorry. I don’t know her measurements.”
“You’ve a copper’s eye, and you’re a woman. I’d wager you can make a fair guess.”
Erin thought about it. “I’d say she’s about a thirty-eight, thirty-four, thirty-six,” she said.
