It Was a Very Bad Year

THIRTY-SEVEN

I went to my room and called Jerry. He didn’t answer. Damn, if I was going to use him as back-up he’d have to catch a plane fast. I’d need to talk to Frank about what was bound to be a heavy airfare on account of the short notice. I was sure he’d cover it.

Since Jack had brought up Jerry I realized I’d automatically agreed to make the drop for Frank without even considering what I was agreeing to. Drops of this kind don’t always go smoothly. The kidnappers could kill me and take the money. I needed somebody to back me up and keep me alive, and if it couldn’t be Danny, it had to be Jerry. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else.

I decided to go ahead to Frank’s room and see what was happening. I’d try Jerry again.

I walked down the hall under the scrutiny of the two FBI men. I wondered how long it was going to take for the kidnappers to call Frank and make their demand. Where was Frankie being held and how was he doing? And I wondered who would be crazy enough to do this, because there was no way Frank would rest until he found them, regardless of whether or not Frankie was returned.

‘They’re all in there,’ one of the men said, as he opened the door for me.

‘Thanks.’

As I entered, Frank was saying, ‘. . don’t feel like it, right now.’

‘Frank,’ Mickey Rudin said, ‘you’ve got to eat something. You’re not gonna do Frankie any good if you pass out from hunger.’

Frank, still seated on the bed by the phone, said, ‘Yeah, OK. Have them bring up a table and spaghetti for four. My friends are gonna eat with me.’

‘Your friends?’ Rudin asked.

‘Jack, Eddie and Jilly,’ Frank said, ‘The rest of you can fend for yourselves.’

The lawyer, who probably considered himself a friend of Frank’s, looked a little wounded, but he said, ‘OK, I’ll take care of it.’

‘I’m going to make a few calls,’ the DA said. ‘I’ll check in with you later. If you get a call-’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Frank said, ‘the FBI’s right outside the door. I get it.’

Raggio, Rudin and the FBI left the room. I heard Jack go to the door with them and whisper, ‘Make sure there’s meatballs.’

When the door closed, Jilly asked Frank, ‘You want a drink, Frank?’

‘No, I don’t want no booze,’ Frank said. ‘I gotta keep a clear head.’

‘Frank, whatever they ask for,’ Jack said, ‘no matter how much, the Sands will front it.’

‘I appreciate that Jack,’ Frank said, ‘but I got it covered.’

‘Frank,’ I said, ‘I’d like to talk to you about Jerry.’

‘Who?’

‘Jerry Epstein?’

He frowned at me, almost annoyed, then his face brightened and he said, ‘The Brooklyn kid?’

‘That’s right. I think I’ll need him, to back me up on this drop.’

‘No problem. Use him.’

‘I’ll need to get him here — or wherever the drop is supposed to be.’

‘Once we get the call and find out, I’ll have my plane pick him up. Is he ready?’

‘I just have to get him on the phone, but he’ll be ready, if I know Jerry,’ I said. Knowing he was going to help me and Frank, Jerry would walk all the way if he had to. . barefoot.

‘OK, good,’ Frank said. ‘I want you and Frankie to both walk away from this.’

That made two of us.

I excused myself to try Jerry again, said I’d be back to eat.

This time when I dialed, Jerry answered.

‘Hey, what’s up, Mr G.?’

I told him about Frank Jr. being kidnapped, and that Frank asked me to make the pay-off.

‘I’ll be on the first plane to Vegas-’

‘No, Jerry,’ I said. ‘We’re in Reno, but I don’t want you to come here, either.’

‘I gotta do somethin’-’

‘And you will,’ I said. ‘As soon as Frank gets the call with the kidnapper’s demands, and finds out where the drop is, he’ll send his plane for you. I want you to back me on the drop.’

‘You got it, Mr G.’ he said. ‘Thanks for thinkin’ of me.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ I said, ‘I was kind of thinking of me.’

‘I getcha. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready to move as soon as I get the call.’

‘Thanks, Jerry,’ I said. ‘I knew Frank and I could count on you.’

‘Always, Mr G. Tell Mr S. I’ll see him soon.’

‘You got it.’

I hung up, thought about calling Penny in Danny’s office and telling her what was going on so she could fill him in. But he was away, working another case, and I didn’t want anything leaking out that shouldn’t be.

I stepped out into the hall in time to see the two FBI agents frisking the bellman, who stood patiently, probably figuring his tip would make up for it. He had a table on wheels, and there were some folding chairs leaning against the wall that he had probably brought up in the elevator with him.

Finally, they opened the door and allowed the bellman to wheel the table into the room. I came down the hall and grabbed the folding chairs, carrying them in with me.

‘That’s fine,’ Jack Entratter said. ‘We’ll take care of it.’ He tipped the guy a twenty.

‘Gee, thanks,’ the young man said.

Jilly walked him to the door and ushered him out.

We set the chairs up at the table, and Jack enticed Frank to leave the phone and sit at the table to eat our spaghetti and meatball lunch. Frank backed the table up so he could sit within reach of the phone. He held his fork in his right hand, and the roll of dimes in his left.

When the phone rang we all had our mouths full of pasta. Frank actually spat his out and grabbed the phone.

‘Yeah?’ he said. ‘Yeah, this is him. Is my son. . what? Wait, is that all? What about-’

Obviously, the person on the other end had hung up. Frank sat there holding the phone, staring.

‘Frank,’ Jack said. No answer. He got up, walked to Frank and took the phone from him. ‘Frank? Who was it? What did they say?’

Frank shook his head, noticed us as if we had just appeared.

‘It was them. They said Frankie was OK, and they’d call me again with the amount and the location.’

‘That’s it?’ I asked. ‘That’s all they said?’

‘No,’ Frank said, ‘he said one more thing.’

‘What was it?’ Jilly asked.

Frank looked at us and quoted, ‘“Discretion will be the demeanor.”’