Peril

CARUSO

Labriola’s voice seemed to reach through the phone line and slap his face.

“Yeah?”

“I talked to Morty Dodge about the meeting you want with this guy he works for.”

“And?”

“He says his guy needs information.”

“About what?”

“Sara. Things about her.”

“What things?”

“For example, what she did for a living or-”

“She didn’t do a fucking thing.”

“Yeah, okay, but like, where she might have gone. Stuff to get the guy started, that’s what he means.”

To Caruso’s surprise, Labriola did not protest. “I got an idea who knows that shit.”

“Good,” Caruso said. “I’ll pass on whatever you find out.”

“ You’ll pass it on? What about me? What about the meeting?”

“That’s a problem, having a meeting.”

“Why is it a problem, Vinnie?”

“Because the guy, he won’t do it.”

“I’m laying out thirty grand and this fucker won’t meet with me?”

“He never shows.”

Caruso could hear the Old Man breathing raggedly, like the snorting of a bull. He waited for him to speak, and when he didn’t, added, “But Morty’ll meet with you. I told him if it was okay you could hook up at Columbus Circle, two-thirty.”

“But he’s nothing but a gofer,” the Old Man barked. “I don’t deal with no fucking gofers.”

“He’s a little more than that,” Caruso protested. “I mean, the guy trusts him is what I’m saying.”

“So he’s like a sidecar?”

“Sidekick. Yeah, something like that. But more. Loyal. A loyal friend.”

“A loyal friend. You know what a loyal friend is, Vinnie? He’s the other guy you toss into the fucking hole.”

A small, aching laugh broke from Caruso. “That’s good, Mr. Labriola. That’s a good one.”

“I want you to find out who this fucking guy is, Vinnie. I don’t have no ghosts working for me, you understand?”

“The guy, you want me to… what?”

“What I fucking said just now,” the Old Man screamed. “Who is he? I want to know.”

“Yes, sir,” Caruso said weakly.

“So, look, here’s what we do. You set up that fucking meet. Say to this sidecar shithead, sure I’ll have a meet. Then we meet, and we talk, and we shake hands like a couple of asshole buddies, see what I mean? Then I go my way, and the sidecar goes his. And you follow the little shithead all the way to this fucking guy he works for.”

“Yes, sir,” Caruso breathed.

“Understood, Vinnie?”

“I understand,” Caruso said, looking about the cramped office from which he ran the Old Man’s loan-sharking business.

“Okay, so, two-thirty,” the Old Man snapped.

“Yes, sir,” Caruso said, adding the time to a head already full of numbers, loans, payments, due dates, not one of which he had ever written down.