At End of Day (49 page)

“Just as when we got together, I had quite a few things going that I had, I was with Hugo. And after that some other things that just in the normal course of things, that grew out of those things, too. And so when we got together, he kept those things that he had had before we did that, and likewise I myself kept those things that I had had before.

“Now I realize when you say it, I’m explaining it to you now, it sounds pretty complicated, but it’s really not at all. Or at least to me and Arthur, don’t seem that way. See, that kind of independence we still kept when we joined up, that was very important, to me especially. If I had’ve gone with Nunzio, all right? With Nunzio Dinapola who was the Boston Cosa Nostra guy before he died and Carlo, Carlo Rizzo took his place? He was the guy who you hadda go and see, if you were a made guy and you wanted to do something, before you could do it. And if he said you could, you could, and if he didn’t then you couldn’t.

“Well, he always wanted me to join, both of them wanted that—he had Carlo ask me, Nunzio did, I dunno how many times, and I would always tell him No. I mean, I would be polite about it, no use pissing someone off, he’s tellin’ you he likes your style, the way you go about things, right? And so he’d like you, work for him. No, you don’t want to do that unless for some reason you have to, and then of course you got no choice.

“But still I would always tell him No, and that was the biggest reason. Havin’ to get their permission before I could do things, which if I became a member I would have to do. But if I didn’t, then what I’d built up with Hugo and what I’d made out of it, that was mine and it would stay mine—unless I joined up with them. Became a made guy, LCN. At which point it would become from then on an interest of
ours.
Well, no thanks, I don’t think so.

“And as far as Arthur was concerned, well, he didn’t have the problem that I had with
Nunzio
, with
Carlo
, because of course
he’s not Sicilian or Italian like I am, and unless you are one of them you’re not eligible. You can do work for them, as Arthur has, as he has no doubt told you. Lots of times when they’ve asked, the order came direct from Providence. And at least one time that I heard about, it came from New York. Hadda go to Florida, Arthur’s got a reputation, and he don’t mind travelin’ to do a job—if the money’s there. That could be where he is now—off on a hurry-up job. But even though he couldn’t join I know he never would, and for the same reason I had. Arthur works for Arthur. He is no one’s employee.”

Cistaro took a second piece of chicken and another serving of linguini from the serving dishes. “So Arthur may’ve heard something about one of his private interests that may have caused him to hit the road, but wouldn’t affect you?” Stoat said. “And that’s why he didn’t call? Get in touch with you somehow?” Farrier cut and chewed industriously, pausing now and then for wine, as though having found a nice rhythm he didn’t wish to break.

Cistaro nodded. “Right,” he said. “If hit the road is what he’s done—he’s not just doing something else. And then when he gets where he is going, he’ll then find a payphone and call me sometime when he knows where I’ll be and it isn’t where I live—he’ll assume my phone is tapped and whoever put the tap on’s looking for him, tracing every call I get. So if he called me there then they might not know what
building
he was in, but they’d at least know what
town
, where he was, and to start looking, because that’s where the call came from. When I get
that
call, I will then know.

“But by then, if he’s gone because something
he
had just went wrong, then probably tomorrow sometime, or the papers come out tonight, I’ll probably already know what it was that made him go. Because even though we both have things of our own the other guy is not involved with, I know what things he’s got,
or most of them, anyway, and he knows most of mine. So one of his has gone haywire bad enough for him to screw, it’ll make the papers.” He swallowed and snorted. “Wasn’t for da fuckin’ Broons, I’d probably know right now.”

“The Bruins?” Farrier said. “What the hell’ve the Bruins got to do with it?”

Cistaro was laughing and shaking his head as he worked on the chicken. “Ah fuckin’ Broons’re playin’ ah fuckin’ New Jersey Devils tonight, is what the fuckin’ Broons’ve got to do with it. Game didn’t start until seven-thirty, but WBZ’s got this goddamned pregame warm-up show, I guess it starts at seven? I dunno when the fuck it starts—all I know is by the time I remember Arthur with his fuckin’ old shitboxes, those old cars he’s always driving? Well, to him it didn’t matter they’re old, made him look like he’s retired from the insurance business? Only things he cares about’re that they run. And the heater works; same thing with the air conditioner—if it’s even
got
AC. He don’t insist on AC, a couple of his old cars
didn’t
; that’s how old they were. I used to tell him I’m surprised he didn’t ever have one that burned coal instead of gas. He laughed at that. But if it’s in it it should work. And the radio. Hasta have a radio and it’s on
all
the time.

“There was this one car, years ago I’m talkin’ now, a big grey fifty Mercury, looked like a giant bathtub someone’d turned upside down, then put a setta wheels on it. Got it for two hundred dollars, someone settlin’ an estate. Anna radio quit on him. Hadda new one put in that cost him a hundred-fifty, ’most as much as the whole car did, ’cause it was the cheapest model that they had, at the first place he went, and he wanted it done fast.

“If he’s in his fuckin’ car, that radio is on. He is not listening to music and he’s not listening to talk shows. He’s got BZ on, WBZ AM, ten-thirty AM dial, all news all day long. One of the things they must do is monitor the scanners, and also must have
people call them out around the various towns, because once some cop makes an arrest he thinks should be a big deal, seems like they’re on the air with it before he’s shut the siren off. Which’s why when he’s in Boston any time he’s in his car, Arthur always has BZ on—it comes on with the ignition.

“Same reason he’s got bank accounts all over everywhere—that’s what he’s been doing sometimes when no one knew where he is; drivin’ all over the country, opening these bank accounts, nothing that attracts attention, two, maybe, three thousand dollars. I dunno what names’re on ’em, whose Social Security numbers or anything like that, but I know they exist—I got no idea how many. Different names on different licenses; I know where he got those, but also, different names on different
passports
; where he got them I don’t know. And this small gym bag of hundreds that he keeps in some safe place that he keeps changing all the time. I got something like that myself—escape cash. Just in case some cop does something that could mean something that we wouldn’t like at all.”

“Mean something like get arrested?” Farrier said.

Cistaro nodded. “Exactly,” he said, bringing a forkful of pasta to his mouth. “But by the time I think of that, I don’t know where he is tonight, ‘Where the hell’s Arthur? Did he maybe hear something on the radio today, tonight, that would make him take off? Maybe he did. I’ll turn on BZ and see.’ But of course the time I do that, some asshole is on the air talkin’ about hockey.”

“Would it be on CNN?” Stoat said. “Either CNBC or that? Lily has CNBC on all the time, on the big set in the study, where she is, she works at home, and I know it’s also news in addition tah the stock market. CNN’s got two channels, I think—one’s headlines all the time.”

Cistaro shook hs head. “Nah, I doubt it,” he said. “If it was one of Arthur’s private actions gettin’ sideways on him, I doubt
it would be big enough to get on CNN.” He finished his second helping and drank some wine. Then he sat back in his chair, contentment on his face, and clasped his hands over his belly. He shook his head. “Hafta hand it to you, Darren—for a redneck cracker boy, best a man’d hope from you’s a good seat at a NASCAR race and some Elvis gittar music, no chance of a decent meal ’less you go for ham an’ grits, but you sure do cook up one mean Italian meal.” He beamed at Stoat. “How come you took it up?”

“Waal,” Stoat said, “Ah figured if Italians do it, cain’t be awl
that
hard.”

Cistaro sucking at his teeth said “Uh huh” and studied him for a moment, deciding whether to take offense, before shifting his eyes to Farrier. “You been talkin’ to this boy, Jack? He learn this new fresh talk from you?” Farrier smiled. “Yes, you have, Jack, I can tell. You’ve been tellin’ him bad stories about the Italian people, puttin’ bad thoughts in his head.”

He grinned, but there was no fun in his eyes. Nodding slightly—“ ’bout how we’re all, what did you call us? ‘vicious
animals
,’ last time we’re here? Now I ask you, is that nice? Is that any way to act? Undermine me with my friend here, when I’m tryin’ tah help you out? I tell you, I don’t think it is, and that just for doin’ that, doin’ to me what you did, I might decide to make you
wait
a while, before I give you the names and addresses of those two evil faggots, payin’ unscrupulous foreigners to rob graves, steal valuable artifacts and national historic treasures, ancient Greece and places like that, and import them for snooty rich folks who display them in their homes.”

“
Really?
” Stoat said. “Snooty rich folks around Boston?”

“Absolutely,” Cistaro said, nodding but keeping his eyes fixed on Farrier. “Snooty, rich, and very well-
known
—‘prominent,’ I think you’d say, ‘prominent Boston physicians.’ ” He paused,
smirking. “Suppose I could be mistaken, but isn’t that against the law?”

“It certainly is, and very much so,” Stoat said. “We sent out several directives when I was in Washington, heads up to all field offices alerting them to this traffic. Administration’s told the State Deparment to emphasize to other heads of state we intend to take this outrageous conduct—‘looting’ and ‘smuggling’ were the terms we used—‘most seriously.’ ”

“That’s what I thought,” Cistaro said. “Something like that, I imagine, you made an arrest here like that,
that
would get on CNN, I bet, no doubt at all of that.”

“Oh yes, I would think so,” Stoat said.

“And Washington would like that, right?” Cistaro said, now looking back at Stoat.

Farrier cleared his throat. “Washington would love it,” he said evenly, regaining Cistaro’s attention. “And since the man who has the secret and his friend, the absent man, have strong reasons of their
own
to
want
their friends from Washington to speak
highly
of them there, and to seek cordial treatment for them, should they get their tails in
cracks
, the man who has the secret would act in his own best interest if he imparted it promptly.” He paused one beat. “He would
not
want to get them mad, any more than they would want him to get mad with them.”

Cistaro stared. Farrier looked at Stoat and indicated Cistaro by moving his head.

Stoat nodded and said, “You do
know
, of course, that I was only, you know, joking, when I said that. What I said about Italian cooking. Being easy.”

Cistaro, still looking at Farrier, blinked and shook his head. He curled his lip but nodded. “Oh, sure,” he said, making a dismissive motion with his right hand. “No problem. I understand. Could say I asked for it, I guess. And what you were sayin’, Jack,
you
know
how anxious me and Arthur always are, we can ever do you a small favor. All you got to do you know, is let us know, you know?” He snickered.

“Well yes, of course, I do know that,” Farrier said. “As a matter of fact this evening, before you got here tonight, Darren and I were discussing how he has a small financial problem right now, and how it’s been on his mind. How it distracts him from his work. And I said he shouldn’t let it. I was
sure
that if he mentioned it to you and Arthur, that you’d immediately say to him, ‘Well, we can take care of that for you.’ ”

“I see,” Cistaro said. His smile showing only his four upper front teeth, the tip of his tongue protruding for a moment, he talked to Farrier but studied Stoat. “And would this be a loan you’re talking? Or did you have in mind a gift?” Stoat squirmed.

“Oh, a loan, of course,” Farrier said. “Just a short-term loan, sixty, ninety days.” He paused. “A gift, you know, under the circumstances we’d be uncomfortable with that. People might look at a gift the wrong way—interpret it as something else. So no, no gift, a loan.”

“Well, a reasonable amount,” Cistaro said, “if this was a reasonable amount that you two’re asking here, we would have no problem with that. And I know that I can say that, even though for some reason, Arthur isn’t here tonight. But I know he would agree.

“So, how much did you have in mind? Three grand or so, like we duked you a few years back, Jack, you and the bride could get some R an’ R, a little sun? Something in that neighborhood?”

Stoat could not prevent his mouth from dropping open or his eyes from darting away from Cistaro to Farrier. Now Cistaro looked at Farrier too.

Farrier smiled. “You know, Nick,” he said, “I’m glad you brought that up. Because Darren I think had some slight
reservations
, guess you’d call them, about asking you this favor as I’d
recommended. And I was just going to remind you of that, how you and Arthur’d done me a somewhat similar though smaller kindness a couple or three years ago—though I wouldn’t say exactly, I don’t think I’d say you ‘duked’ me because to me that would connote a
gift
, you two made a gift to me—whereas I of course did pay you back. In full. And promptly.”

Cistaro grinned at him with the gleeful malice of a man observing at the effect of his new evident wealth and confident satisfaction on an old and envious adversary. “But without any vig, wasn’t it?” he said pleasantly. “I recall it, we charged you no
juice, no
interest. An’ you kept the three large ’til your wife found a job—which was what, pretty close to a year?”

He smirked. “So that part, I guess, you might call that a gift. Put it this way—we duked you the
interest.
Six hundred dollars a week. For, if I get this right, now, forty-six weeks, would it’ve been? What’s six hundred times forty-six? You’re good with numbers, Jack, what would that be? That one you can do in your head?”