Double Jeopardy

49

8:00 P.M.

WHEN KRAMER ENTERED MARIO’S office, it was almost entirely dark. The gooseneck lamp was off. Only the subtlest hint of a silhouette informed him that Mario was in his usual place behind his desk. All he could see were two incandescent eyes burning across the room.

Mario spoke first. “It was Donny?”

Kramer ran his finger up and down the scar on his face. “Uh … yeah. It was.”

A very long pause. “What am I to tell his mother? He was her only son. My only nephew.”

“I—I don’t know. Sir.” Kramer shoved his hands inside his pockets. “I didn’t know Donny was followin’ me. Hell! Donny was stupid as shit, but I still wouldn’t have—”

“Don’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Sorry.” The hypocrisy of the moment was beginning to overwhelm him. As if Mario really gave a damn. “Look, we all knew what Donny was. He had no future with us—”

“Does that mean he deserved to die? To be burned alive? Ventilated by hundreds of nails?” Mario’s voice boomed out of the darkness. “Should we dispose of all our castoffs by sealing them in a car with one of your demented death traps?”

“It was a good idea. A smart backup plan. Just in case the first line of assault didn’t work.”

“Which it didn’t.”

“That’s … true. Like the bumper stickers say, shit happens. You can’t blame me for that.”

“You sent a hireling to perform a job you should have done yourself. You weren’t even there.”

“I couldn’t have passed as an office courier. My … appearance would’ve aroused his suspicions.”

“This is simply another attempt to excuse your failure. A ghastly failure that has now cost us two men. Including my nephew.”

“Give it a rest. You never liked Donny any better than I did. Just stay cool a little longer and I’ll serve Byrne’s head to you on a silver platter. Moroconi’s, too.”

“Your time is up, Mr. Kramer.” Mario rose to his feet and slowly emerged from the shadows. “For many years I have believed you were not a desirable member of our organization. In the old days, perhaps, you had a place. But now you are a relic. In this latest matter, you have proven your obsolescence. Although I have given you every possible chance, you have failed to deliver Moroconi. You haven’t even been able to find a stupid lawyer. And in the course of this catastrophic failure, you have cost men their lives and threatened the integrity of our entire organization.”

Kramer withdrew his lighter from his pocket and flicked it. The flame cast a dim glow through the darkened room. “Fine. You wanted to chew me out, you’ve chewed me out. I suppose I gave you an openin’. Now can I get on with my job?”

“You don’t have a job, Mr. Kramer.”

“What?”

“I am relieving you of your duties in this matter. In fact, I am relieving you of all responsibilities for my organization.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Can’t? I already have. You are no longer connected with us, Mr. Kramer. Whatever tenuous connection you once may have claimed is now and forever severed.”

“I was workin’ for this family before you were—”

“None of that matters, Mr. Kramer. I’m in charge now. And I have given you your walking papers. So walk.”

“You’re serious!”

“Very.” He stepped closer to Kramer. “If I see you around here again, I’ll have you killed.”

Kramer stalked toward the door, his teeth clenched, his fists balled up in rage. That explained why the room was so goddamn dark, he realized. Mario must have bodyguards in here. Otherwise he would never dare speak like that.

Kramer slammed the door behind him. Fucking pissant. The Outfit had shot straight downhill since Mario took over. Now they all wore business suits and pretended they were Wall Street tycoons. They didn’t know who they were anymore. They didn’t think they needed him.

Mario was just trying to scare him, Kramer told himself. He just wanted Moroconi and Byrne brought in. And this was his way of ensuring that Kramer worked night and day to make that happen. Bastard.

Fine. He’d bring in Byrne. He had hoped to do it with a minimum of fuss, but since Mario was in such a goddamn hurry, he’d expedite matters. He’d continue with his main plan—tracking Byrne—but he’d put his contingency plan into action as well. One or the other was bound to produce results.

After all, Byrne might be able to hide himself. But he couldn’t hide all his friends, too.