Double Jeopardy

12

11:30 P.M.

THE MAN IN THE trench coat lit another cigarette. How long did it take to drag out a prisoner, anyway? Christ—as much money as he’d paid to get in here, you’d think he’d be entitled to better service.

He sucked deeply, then exhaled the smoke in perfectly formed little rings. At last one of the guards shuffled up to the conference cell, Moroconi in tow. The guard unlocked the door and shoved Moroconi into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“Remember,” the man in the trench coat said to the guard, “you didn’t see me, you didn’t hear me, and you don’t know who I am.”

“Right, right,” the guard replied. “Forgot all about it.” He rubbed his hands together. “I bet you could prevent any sudden spurts of recollection, too.”

The man in the trench coat blew a stream of smoke toward the guard. “You’ve already been paid.”

“Paid for arranging the meeting. I ain’t had nothin’ for keepin’ quiet.”

“Don’t get greedy, my friend.”

“Hey, a guy like me’s got to look out for himself. They don’t pay us peanuts here and—awrk!—”

The guard emitted a short gurgling noise as the man in the trench coat grabbed him by the throat. “Don’t play games with me, you pissant. If anyone found out about this meeting, you’d be in as much trouble as me. Probably more. I could talk my way out of it. A dumb shit like you would just sit there and take the punches. You’d be fired—you might even face criminal charges. Then you could spend some quality time with these inmates you’ve been so kind to over the years. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

A look of undisguised terror crossed the guard’s face. It was more than just the realization that the man could do everything he threatened. It was the realization that he would.

The man in the trench coat took another drag from his cigarette. “I haven’t even mentioned what I personally would do to you if you talked. So keep your mouth shut, okay?”

“Yes, sir. I will. I promise.” The guard backed away the instant he was released. “Hell, I was just playin’ with you. You know, shootin’ the bull. I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know I wouldn’t.”

The man didn’t look at him.

“Swear to God. I really really—”

The man tapped his cigarette ashes onto the floor. “Leave.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The guard stumbled backward through the cell door. “You two will have complete privacy. Absolutely.” He locked the door and faded down the dark corridor.

The man’s lip curled around his cigarette. “Schmuck.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Moroconi said. “You ain’t been livin’ with him.”

“You have my sympathies.”

“You can keep your sympathies. Just gimme what I want. Have you got it on you?”

“No. But I can get it. Have you got the money?”

Moroconi smiled thinly. “No. But I can get it.”

“I see. We have a stalemate then. Who’s going to make the first move?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere soon.”

“Good point. How are you going to get the money?”

“I’m not. I’m gonna tell you where it is. When our deal is done.”

The other man leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid I detect a distinct lack of trust.”

“Detect away, Sherlock. When you spring me and get me what I want, you’ll get paid.”

“You’re demanding an inordinate amount of goodwill on my part.”

“Wouldn’t you? If you sell me short, I’m headed up the river. You’re my last chance.”

“Have you no faith in the judicial system? Or your attorney?”

“He’s an ex-cop. No favors from him. Once an asshole, always an asshole. I tried to set him straight this mornin’. He acted like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with a lowlife like me. Self-righteous pig. What do you know about him?”

“At the moment, not much. But that will change soon.”

“When you learn somethin’, let me know. I wouldn’t mind having the chance to stick that pig where it hurts.”

“If the opportunity presents itself, I’ll be happy to oblige.” The man blew cigarette smoke through his teeth. “I guess you’ve heard what happened to his predecessor.”

Moroconi’s face became noticeably less animated. “No. What?”

“Fish food. Washed up on the shore of Lake Palestine. They’re not sure how long he’s been there.”

“What happened to him?”

“The word isn’t out yet officially, but …” He paused dramatically. “It involves fire.”

“No shit! Then—”

The man nodded.

“Look, I can’t screw around anymore. As long as I’m stuck in here, I’m a sitting duck.”

“That fact has occurred to me.”

“You son of a bitch.” Moroconi’s face and neck muscles tensed. “All right, goddamn you. I’ll go first. I’ll tell you where you can get the money. Half of it, anyway. After I’m out, and you’ve delivered the goods, I’ll see that you get the other half.”

“That’s acceptable. Under the circumstances.” He inhaled deeply. “Six to the right, two to the north, three to the left. Commit that to memory.”

Moroconi made sure he had it, then asked, “How are you gonna get me what I want?”

“Not to worry.”

“I don’t think you should come here like this again. It’s too risky.”

“Agreed. Next time I’ll visit during the day.”

“Are you crazy? I’ll be in the courtroom all day long. They’ve got five sergeants breathing down my neck from start to finish.”

“I’ll arrange something. Tonight I wanted us to have the opportunity to talk face-to-face. Privately. That shouldn’t be necessary again. I’ll get you what you want.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll take care of it.”

“Listen to me, chump. I’m tellin’ you, they won’t let you near me!”

“Of course they will.” He ground his cigarette out on the table. “I can do anything I want, Al. I’m with the FBI.”