It Was a Very Bad Year

FORTY-EIGHT

When we got back to the house I let Frank brief the others on what we’d been doing. Somebody handed me a bottle of beer, which I appreciated.

‘Was anybody watching you?’ Evans asked.

Frank looked at me.

‘I didn’t see anybody, but I’d say yeah. I mean, otherwise what was the point of running us from phone to phone?’

‘Good point,’ Evans said.

I looked around the room. There were more people there than when we left. More cops. More FBI. I found out later there were better than a hundred cops and two dozen FBI agents out looking for Frankie.

‘OK,’ Evans said, ‘so we’re back to waiting for a call.’

‘I don’t want it traced,’ Frank said.

‘What?’

‘Stop trying to trace the calls,’ Frank said. ‘I just want to pay the money and get my kid.’

‘Mr Sinatra,’ Evans said, ‘we’re very experienced at this-’

‘That’s why I think I’ll go with payin’,’ Frank said.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Really?’ Frank asked. ‘Jerry understands, don’t you, Jerry?’

Jerry had been standing to the side. Now he stepped up, and suddenly he seemed to fill the room.

‘You’re all pros,’ he said, ‘used to dealin’ with pros. These guys are amateurs. They ain’t doin’ what you expect ’em to do.’

‘That’s right,’ Frank said.

‘Makes sense,’ Rudin said.

‘Send your men home, Mr Evans,’ Frank said. ‘You can stay if you want, keep as many men here as you want. Send the wire men home. I’m gonna pay.’

‘Mr Sinatra-’

‘It’s my kid,’ Frank said, ‘and my call.’

The room got quiet. We all turned our eyes to the doorway, where Nancy was standing. She’d heard everything Frank said.

‘Excuse me.’ Frank walked to Nancy and they went into another room.

‘All right, boys,’ DA Evans said, ‘let’s pack it all up.’

Jerry looked at me. I jerked my head for him to follow me and we went to the kitchen. A new spread had been put out for lunch.

‘That’s real turkey,’ Jerry said. He started building himself a sandwich. After all the running around with Frank, I was ready for one, too.

‘I don’t know how this happened, Jerry,’ I said, ‘but this is gonna fall to you and me.’

‘I know, Mr G.’

‘Are you ready?’ I asked.

‘I’m always ready, Mr G.,’ he said, ‘you know that.’ He added cheese to his sandwich, lettuce, mayo, pickles, built it higher than my mouth would have been able to handle. Mine was half the size.

He took a bite.

‘I know you are, Jerry,’ I said.

‘So are you, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘I know that, so does Mr S. You gotta believe it, is all.’

He was right. I took a bite of my sandwich.