6 Stone Barrington Novels (166 page)

S
TONE AND HOLLY were having breakfast the following morning.

“I don't like this,” Stone said.

“What don't you like?”

“Before, when we went into that apartment with Dino, we had a SWAT team ahead of us, and there was shooting. Now we're just supposed to walk into Vito's grocery store and walk out with Trini? It doesn't add up, and if it did, I still wouldn't want to go in there like that.”

“What do you suggest?”

Stone called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“I don't like it, Dino.”

“Who's this?”

“It's Stone, dummy. You don't recognize my voice after all these years?”

“What don't you like?”

“I don't like walking into that grocery store with no SWAT team and no backup.”

“Vito's your backup.”

“The last time I saw Vito he was backing me into a freshly dug grave.”

“You don't trust him?”

“Why should I trust him? Because he didn't kill me?”

“That's a start.”

“That was because he was afraid of Eduardo.”

“Because he
respected
Eduardo.”

“Whatever. He didn't back off because he'd suddenly taken a liking to me.”

“Maybe he liked Holly.”

“He was going to kill her, too.”

“You got a point.”

“Of course I do. The point is, what's going to happen when we walk in there?
If
we walk in there.”

“You'll be with me.”

“You're not big enough to hide behind.”

“He respects me.”

“Why, because he saved your skinny little ass from bullies when you were ten?”

“No, because I saved his fat ass from a long time upstate, and he appreciates that.”

“Okay, that takes care of you. What about Holly and me?”

“It's transferable.”

“What?”

“The respect.”

“Look, these goombahs are murdering people they respect all the time, you know? The respect seems to
kind of vary from day to day—one day you're a prince of a guy, the next you're in a fifty-five-gallon drum of lime in a New Jersey swamp, waiting for Judgment Day.”

“Stone, I don't think I've ever seen you so nervous.”

“I don't think I've ever had more reason to be nervous. I've been threatened and shot at and dragged all over the country, and—”

Holly broke in. “I did
not
drag you all over the country,” she said. “You came voluntarily.”

“That was only because I wanted to get you in the sack.”

“You had already gotten me in the sack. How soon you forget!”

Dino broke in. “You wanted to get me in the sack?”

“Oh, shut up. You know I was talking to Holly.”

“How do I know who you're talking to? I can only hear you.”

“We've got to have a plan, Dino.”

“What sort of plan?”

“The kind of plan where men in black suits and body armor with automatic weapons and stun grenades go in first and let us know when they've got Trini handcuffed.”

“You don't understand. Vito has a certain standing in his community, you know? He would not respond well to assault teams running up and down the aisles of his grocery store, tossing stun grenades. It would not reflect well on him in his neighborhood.”

“Well, we need
some
kind of a plan,” Stone said.

“What kind of plan do you want?”

“Suggest something.”

“I don't know what to suggest. I'm okay with just going in there and talking to Vito.”

“How about you send a few undercover people in there to do some shopping and reconnoiter?”

“Oh, sure, and they're not going to stick out like tourists from Alabama? The whole neighborhood would know.”

“Well, think of
something
, Dino.”

“I'll call you back,” Dino said, then hung up.

“Hey!” Stone shouted down the phone. “Don't hang up on me!”

“He hung up?” Holly asked.

“He hung up; said he'd call me back.”

“So, he'll call you back.”

“You heard me voice my concerns?”

“I heard. I don't really see what the problem is. Vito said just to come down there.”

“So now
you
trust Vito? The guy who was going to put two in your head and bury you in his cellar?”

“I kind of like him.”

“He's a fucking mafioso, and you kind of like him?”

“Well, your friend Eduardo is a fucking mafioso, and you like him.”

“First of all, he's not a fucking mafioso, he's more of . . . an elder statesman of Italian-American diplomacy.”

“He's a fucking mafioso.”

“And I've had a lot more experience of Eduardo than you've had of Vito.”

“Granted. Why don't we just wait to hear what Dino has to say?”

The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”

“Okay, listen . . .”

” Who is this?”

“Now
you
don't recognize
my
voice?”

“What is it?”

“I talked to Vito, and it's okay.”

“That's your plan? You talked to Vito, and it's okay?”

“That's my plan.”

Stone sighed. “Okay, what do we do?”

“Vito suggested we come in my car, since yours is getting to be a little too well known in the neighborhood, so I'll pick you up at ten-thirty.”

“Okay.” Stone hung up.

“He talked to Vito, and it's okay?”

“Yeah.”

“And that's the plan?”

“Yeah.”

S
TONE LED HOLLY upstairs to his safe and opened it. “I'm not comfortable going after this guy with your Sig-Sauer and my Walther,” he said, rooting around in the safe. “They're both .380s, and we need more stopping power.”

“What did you have in mind?” Holly asked.

Stone handed her a gun. “This is a Sig P239,” he said. “It's a little larger than your P232, and it's nine millimeter.”

“I own one. What are we using for ammo?”

He rooted around some more and came up with a magazine. “This is loaded with MagSafe ammo. You know about it?”

“Sounds familiar; remind me.”

“Instead of a lead slug, it's epoxy with fairly large buckshot encapsulated. It will penetrate soft body armor, but the great thing is that even if it goes all the way through a body, it won't ricochet, and it won't kill
some bystander. Makes a big wound in the original recipient, though.”

“Why doesn't everybody use it all the time?”

“Because it costs something like three bucks a round. It's best saved for special occasions.”

“And what are you carrying?”

Stone handed her a pistol. “It's a Sig Pro. Guy I know sent it to me. Got a fifteen-round magazine.”

“I want this one,” she said, tucking it into the belt of her jeans.

“Oh, all right, I'll take the P239.” He handed her the Pro's magazine and closed the safe. “Let's go.”

 

“Okay,” Dino said as they headed downtown at mid-morning, “here's what Vito told me. You ready?”

“We're ready,” Stone said.

“He's luring Trini down to the store with a really good story.”

“What's the story?”

“The story is, a truck is going to make a delivery to Vito's grocery store, and half of the truck is given over to a compartment rigged up as a room. It's air-conditioned, it has a bed and a chair and lights and a chemical toilet and a lot of dirty magazines. The truck actually exists, according to Vito.”

“What's the truck got to do with this?” Holly asked.

“Vito has told Trini that they're going to take him to Florida in the truck, two guys driving nonstop. He's got food and water and the magazines in the back, and they're there in twenty-four hours.”

“Trini wants to go back to Florida?”

“He says he can get lost among his homeboys down there, and then he'll get a ship out somewhere. Anybody stops the truck, the rear part is stacked to the ceiling with cartons of Italian foodstuffs. Pretty slick, huh?”

“Pretty slick,” Holly admitted.

“So that's how Vito knows for sure Trini will be there today?”

“Right. He's due at noon.”

“And Vito is just going to hand Trini to me?”

“That's the idea.”

“I don't get it,” she said.

“What?”

“What's in it for Vito?”

“He makes Eduardo happy.”

“Eduardo is still in this?” Stone asked.

“Up to his ears, apparently, and Vito always likes to make Eduardo happy. In his business, you make Eduardo happy, good things happen to you.”

“This is just crazy enough to work,” Holly said.

“Wait a minute,” Stone said.

“What?”

“Trini was behind Vito's kidnapping us, right?”

“Right, I guess,” Dino said.

“Well, I'd like to know what Vito told him.”

“Why can't you just relax and let this happen?”

“Oh, all right, I suppose Vito could tell him
something
.”

“You bet your ass he could.”

“What's the plan when we get there?”

“Vito will tell us then.”

T
HE THREE WALKED into Vito Galeano's grocery store at eleven sharp. The place was not terribly big—four rows of shelving running up and down the space, a counter at the rear, and, up half a flight of stairs, a loft office from which Vito had a view over half glasses of the entire store. It was old-fashioned and fragrant with hanging sausage and spices. Vito came down the stairs, checking each of the half-dozen customers in the place, and finally, checking out Stone, Dino, and Holly.

“
Buon giorno
,” he said to Dino.

“
Buon giorno
,” Dino replied.

“How you doin'?” he said to Stone and Holly.

“Good,” they replied simultaneously.

“This is Gino,” he said, nodding at the aproned man behind the counter, who nodded at them all.

Vito reached under the counter, pulled out an apron, and handed it to Dino. “Here's how we're going to do this,” he said. “Dino, you're the only one
who looks like he could work here, so you put on the apron and stand behind the counter with Gino. Pay attention to the way he works while we're waiting, so you won't look stupid when Trini comes in.”

“Right,” Dino said. He took off his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and put on the apron.

“You were born to this,” Stone said.

“Aw, shut up.”

“You two,” Gino said, nodding at Stone and Holly, “get over to one side of the store, so the shelves will hide you. Trini comes in, he'll walk down the center aisle, like everybody. When that happens, Gino, Dino, one of you sing out, ‘Vito, gimme a price on a whole Genoa salami!' That means Trini is in the store.” He looked out to the street. “Here comes the truck.”

They all turned to see a beautifully painted black truck pull up to the curb. Painted on the side was the legend “Gaetano Galeano & Sons, Premium Provisions” in a florid style.

“Beautiful truck,” Stone said.

“Thanks,” Vito replied. “My old man designed it before the Genoveses got to him on the bocce court at the coffeehouse.”

“Sorry about that,” Stone said.

Vito shrugged. “It's our game,” he said. “Anyway, Trini comes down the center aisle, you hear the thing about the price of salami, and you two come around the shelves into the aisle behind Trini. You're carryin'?”

They nodded.

“Don't shoot nobody, okay? Except Trini, if you have to.”

They shook their heads.

“There'll be a man up in my office with a shotgun. Dino and Gino are carryin'; Trini's bracketed.” He looked at Holly. “You got cuffs?”

She nodded. “Three pair.”

“You frisk him and cuff him, then we hustle him over to the stairs.” He nodded to his right, where a door led to stairs to the basement.

Stone didn't want to think about the basement. “Then what?”

“Then we talk.”

“What's to talk about?” Holly asked.

Dino held up a hand. “You'll talk.”

Holly shrugged. “We'll talk.” She shot a glance at Stone that meant she didn't like this.

Stone shook his head slightly; this was no time to argue.

“Is the truck real?” Holly asked.

“What, real?” Vito asked. “You never seen a truck?”

“I mean, does it really have the hidden compartment?”

“Comes in handy from time to time,” Vito replied. Then he looked at Dino. “You already forgot this, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dino said.

“Anybody hungry?” He took a tray of sliced salami and olives from under the counter. “We got free samples.”

Everybody took something to be polite, except Stone, who took it because he was hungry.

“Okay, spread out, and let's do this,” Vito said.

Dino hopped over the counter and took up his position. Stone and Holly moved to where they had been told. They couldn't see the store entrance.

“What's your plan?” Stone asked.

“What Vito said,” Holly replied.

“I mean after we've taken him. What are you going to do with him?”

“I haven't given it much thought,” she said, taking the Sig Pro from her purse and pumping a round into the chamber.

“It's time you did,” Stone said. “In a few minutes you're going to have a dangerous criminal on your hands, and you'd better figure out how you're going to handle him.”

“I'm going to take him home,” she said.

“How?”

“Airlines?”

“Think about how much trouble Trini could make on an airplane with a couple of hundred civilians watching. Then you've got to get him to Orchid Beach.”

“We'll get a flight to Palm Beach, and I'll have a squad car meet us.”

“I've got a better idea.”

“What?”

“I know a guy out at Teterboro who can produce a jet charter on demand—something light, like a Lear or a CitationJet.”

“What's it going to cost?”

“A guess? Eight, ten thousand.”

“I can spring for that. My department's got a discretionary fund for emergency expenditures.”

“That's our best bet. We bundle Trini into Dino's car, drive him to Teterboro where the jet's waiting with the engines running. Two and a half, three hours and you're home.”

“You coming?”

“Once he's on board, you won't need me,” Stone said.

“Oh, I need you,” she said, leering at him.

“I thought we satisfied that need last night.”

“Only temporarily.”

“We'll work on that.”

“Vito!” Dino yelled suddenly, “gimme a price on a whole Genoa salami!”

“Trini's in the store,” Stone whispered. “Here we go.”