Death Benefit

60.

SWISS HOUSE INN NEW JERSEY MARCH 25, 2011, 10:09 P.M.

Aleksander Buda waited in the parking lot of the Swiss House Inn for Fatos to arrive. It was a standing joke among the crew that the thinnest guy they knew was Fatos, although no one ever said it to his face more than once. Fatos was slender and wiry as a greyhound, with quick hands that made him very proficient with a knife. He was rarely seen without his baseball hat, worn jauntily backward like a hip-hop devotee. When Buda wanted backup like he wanted that evening, he always called Fatos.

As dependable as ever, five minutes after Buda arrived, Fatos pulled his black Cadillac sedan into an empty space next to Buda’s. Both cars were off by themselves at the back of the lot. Neither man got out. Buda barely acknowledged Fatos with a nod. They didn’t need to talk a lot.

Buda’s eyes swept around the half-full parking lot. A guy he thought might be Burim was sitting in a new Chevy Camaro in a slot facing out no more than twenty yards to his right. The driver sitting behind the wheel fastidiously ignored Buda. Then another car drove up, an Escalade, and Buda recognized Drilon riding high at the wheel. Drilon flashed his lights at the Camaro.

“Gang’s all here,” Buda said to himself.

Drilon parked, and first Burim, then Buda, then the other two men got out of their cars, met in the middle, and exchanged greetings.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Buda said. “I’m starved.”

The restaurant and bar was situated in a rather ordinary-looking two-story wood-frame house painted a deep green with white trim. Except for the lighted sign announcing SWISS HOUSE INN in front of the building next to the road, the structure didn’t look much like a restaurant, more like another house along the road only in better shape. The parking lot was fairly full, so it was obviously a popular place on a Friday night. Burim walked in the door first and the lady at the door made a fuss of him, asking after his health and saying his table was ready. Buda guessed he’d called ahead and was a frequent patron. Other diners who had been waiting to be seated took one look at the group and to a man and woman decided not to make an issue with the men who jumped the line. They were all in oversized leather jackets, the accepted attire of the Albanian mafia.

In the back of the busy restaurant was a single booth situated partway between the kitchen and the main room. The only traffic was from staff coming out of the kitchen, several of whom made a point of saying hello to Burim.

“So they know you in here,” Buda said. He was mildly disappointed. If he’d known Burim was a regular, he wouldn’t have agreed to the location.

“I’m a big tipper,” Burim said, winking at Drilon across the table.

Buda studied the two men. Drilon was sweating and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Burim was relaxed and exuded calm confidence. Burim got the looks and the brains, Buda thought.

“What can I get you guys?”

It was the hostess doing double duty. They ordered four beers and the special, schnitzel, all around.

“So here’s the deal, gentlemen,” Buda said. He dove right in, dispensing with small talk. “I’m doing a job for someone and halfway through, there’s a problem. The problem is this girl who is sticking her nose in, investigating a situation and making things very difficult for me. We tried to dissuade her, but it didn’t work. The sensible course is to eliminate the problem, so I clear it with my client, who is willing to pay a hundred grand for the extra work, meaning to take care of the meddling bitch.”

Buda paused to take a sip of water and he glanced at Fatos. Fatos knew the contract was for $250,000, but there was no reason these guys had to know.

“If, as might be the case, this girl is your daughter, then you have to take responsibility for her, and you and me, we’ll share the money. But that means it’s your responsibility to make absolutely sure she desists from investigating this case, from poking around, from talking to people, from thinking about it, from dreaming about it. And if she isn’t your daughter, then we will fulfill the contract and you must promise not to mention anything about what we have done. In that case you get a quarter of the money for your inconvenience.”

“Where is she right now?” Burim asked. At that point he was anticipating meeting her.

“Not far from here. She’s perfectly safe.”

“And what was she sticking her nose into, as you put it?”

“I’d rather not say. Ah, our food already.”

The steaming plates of schnitzel and noodles arrived. Remembering Prek’s request, Buda ordered four more to go.

“The key point is,” Buda said, poised with a forkful of veal, “that she stops doing what she’s doing. I have to tell you, she’s making things very dangerous for me. It would be good if she went on a long vacation.”

“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Burim said. He had no reason to believe he could make that happen, but he liked the idea that there was to be a payday in this for him. “Right, Drilon?”

“Sure.” Drilon was facing his own set of demons, but he had little choice but to play along. He pushed a noodle around the edge of his plate with his fork.

“We’re happy to help you, Mr. Buda, but we are incurring some more expenses here,” Burim said.

“Don’t worry,” Buda said, “we’ll take care of dinner.”

“No, really, your money is no good here. There will be other expenses, for the girl.” Burim had already decided the girl had to be his missing daughter. The coincidences were too extraordinary. And if the girl’s personality resembled that of his late wife, he was going to need some cash to even hope to control her.

“Of course,” Buda said. He had been expecting this. “I think ten thousand is a fair amount for the girl.”

“For her inconvenience,” Burim said. Buda nodded at Fatos, who leaned back and shuffled some bills under the table and presented Burim with a thick wad folded in half.

“Either way,” Buda said, “daughter or no daughter. If she is not your daughter, you can keep the cash for your expenses.”

“You have been very thoughtful,” Burim said.

“And you have been very cooperative,” Buda said.

Buda and Burim shook hands across the table, and in turn all four men shook hands, making the agreement as binding as any legal document in Albanian tradition and logic. The men finished their meal quickly, and with the takeout in hand, they left. Burim, having left three twenties on the table as a tip, was detailed to follow Buda, who would lead the way in a motorcade of sorts.

As Burim walked out of the restaurant, he patted his pocket with the fresh bulge of cash and smiled, thinking it was going to be an interesting and profitable evening.