Cure (18 page)

“Not really. He was to my left at that point. I’m not even sure I could have gotten to him if I’d tried. I was being pushed ahead by the people behind me.

And to be truthful, I thought the people right next to him were attempting to help. In fact, when I got to the train’s door, I tried to look back. At first I couldn’t even see him because he wasn’t all that tall.”

“We’re here, lady,” the cabdriver said, looking at Laurie in the rearview mirror.

103

“Can you hold on?” Laurie asked Robert, a little flustered at her predicament.

“I’m in a taxi and have to pay and get out.”

“I can wait,” Robert assured her.

Laurie paid the driver and climbed from the cab to stand in front of the Midtown North Precinct, its flag snapping in the breeze and a bevy of cop cars parked every which way.

“I’m back,” Laurie said. “You were saying ...”

“I was saying that as I was boarding, I got a fleeting look at the man lying on the platform. Standing by him were two other Asians. But it was truly fleeting, because I was looking through a bunch of other riders pushing to get on the train, some of whom didn’t make it. I was also getting my cell phone out.”

“At that time, did it look like the man was still seizing?”

“It happened so fast, with such a limited view, but if I had to guess, I’d say no. I was also dialing the nine-one-one operator to get the call in before the doors closed, and I lost the little signal I had.”

“Look,” Laurie said. “I really appreciate your being willing to talk with me. You have my number if anything else comes to mind, anything at all.”

“I will,” Robert said. “Actually, now that you’ve made me relive the moment, I feel guilty at having boarded the train. Maybe I should have tried a little harder to see if I could have helped.”

“Don’t torture yourself,” Laurie said. “You made a nine-one-one call so medical help could arrive.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

Laurie disconnected her call and then climbed the steps into the busy precinct.

11

MARCH 25, 2010

THURSDAY, 2:45 p.m.

L
ouie felt energized as he neared his restaurant. He’d used the bus ride from 104

Rikers Island to consider Paulie’s advice, and by the time he got back to his car he’d decided to follow Paulie’s suggestions. It was now clear in his mind that there was a time to avoid violence, and there was a time in which violence was the only solution. And this was one of those situations. At the same time, he was convinced he was right about not taking out Hideki. There were too many negatives, including the concern of losing the Japanese income stream and flow of crystal meth, even short-term. Instead, the disappearance of Susumu Nomura and Yoshiaki Eto was the perfect message to everyone, but most specifically to Hideki. The plan wasn’t necessarily going to be easy, but it was doable.

Accordingly, Louie had started by calling Hideki and requesting a meeting at the Venetian for three-thirty to go over the evening’s plans, to which Hideki had immediately agreed.

Louie parked his car in his spot at the rear of the restaurant and walked in the back door. He knew all the guys would still be there, because after he’d made the call to Hideki to set up the meeting for that afternoon, he’d called Carlo.

“Did you get to see Paulie?” Carlo had asked. “And do we have a plan for tonight with the two crazy-ass Japs?”

“Yes to both questions,” Louie had said. “We have a plan but with different rules of engagement.”

“How so?” Carlo had asked, not trying to hide his disappointment.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Louie had snapped back. “Why I’m calling is to make sure you guys are still there when I return.”

“We’re here,” Carlo had said.

After walking through a short hallway containing the restrooms, Louie pounded open the swinging door leading into the kitchen, catching Benito off guard as he sat on the countertop, shooting the breeze with the chef, John Franco. Guiltily, Benito dropped his feet to the floor and stood. Louie glared at him for a moment but quickly decided he was too busy to ream him out for behavior the health department would hardly condone. “Did the guys eat?”

“Yes, they did,” Benito answered smartly.

“Is there any of the pasta left?”

“I have the sauce,” John Franco said. “I’ll have fresh pasta in ten minutes.”

Without answering, Louie pushed through the swinging doors leading into the 105

dining room. Carlo, Brennan, Arthur, and Ted were sitting around the table, poker chips and dollar bills piled up in the table’s center. Empty espresso cups littered the table’s periphery. Carlo slid out from the booth so Louie could slide into his usual spot.

“So how was Paulie?” Carlo asked after Louie had nodded a greeting to each of his henchmen.

“Weird,” Louie said. “He’s lost a lot of weight. Plus, he’s found God.”

“You mean he’s become a Bible banger?” Carlo questioned.

“I don’t really know,” Louie admitted. “He said he’d found the Lord and then talked like the old Paulie Cerino. The issue didn’t come up again until almost the end of our talk, and then only briefly. It might be an act for the parole board. I think he’s getting desperate about not getting parole.”

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Carlo asked.

Louie then told them about his conversation with Paulie, trying to remember all the details, such as the clever idea of the diversionary explosion concept to convince Hideki that Louie was serious about helping with the break-in. The only time he paused was when Benito brought out Louie’s pasta and placed the steaming plate under his nose. Benito poured him a glass of Barolo and another of sparkling water.

“Will there be anything else?” Benito asked.

Louie waved the waiter off without responding, and as soon as Benito was out of earshot, he went back to his conversation with Paulie and Paulie’s suggestions, most specifically about getting rid of both Susumu and Yoshiaki.

“So we’re going on the offensive here?” Carlo asked. He was pleased and happy to show it.

“Most definitely,” Louie responded. “In this business, sometimes you need to use violence to keep the peace. We can’t have the likes of those two wandering around shooting whomever and wherever they please. It gives us all a bad name. At the same time, when you use violence you have to limit the fallout, which brings us to the morgue issue. You all understand that, don’t you?”

No one spoke, causing Louie to repeat the question.

“I guess so,” Carlo said. As the head enforcer, Carlo was expected to speak for 106

the group.

“The point is that it is important Satoshi’s death continues to be thought of as a natural death. We would be accomplices if it were considered a homicide, and we don’t want that.”

“Surely not,” Carlo agreed.

“Paulie was also insistent about this medical examiner, Laurie Montgomery. We have to make sure she’s not associated with the case. If she is, we have to do something to get her off the case. It’s as simple as that.”

“What exactly do we do if she is on the case?” Carlo asked.

“Paulie didn’t have any suggestions. He was just insistent she not be involved.

But we’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.”

“Now let’s go back to Susumu Nomura and Yoshiaki Eto,” Carlo said. “We’re supposed to pick them up as if we are going to help them break into iPS USA but whack them instead.”

“That’s it,” Louie said. “And I don’t want their bodies found. Drive them way out to the tip of Brooklyn, way out near the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. I want them in the ocean, not the bay.”

Carlo looked at Brennan and shrugged, wondering if his partner had any questions.

“How are we going to pick them up?” Brennan asked. “Like last night, in front of their apartments on the Lower East Side?”

“No,” Louie said. “There’s always the chance someone will spot you hanging around their neighborhood. I want to arrange a pickup in a public place. Do you have any preference?

Carlo and Brennan exchanged a glance.

“Come on, guys, give me a location. Hideki’s going to be here at three-thirty, and I want to have this planned out.”

“How about Union Square in front of the Barnes and Noble bookstore,” Brennan said. “There are always enough people loitering around the area.”

“That’s settled,” Louie said, taking another bite of his pasta. “What time should 107

we say for them to be in Union Square?”

“Well,” Brennan said. “If we’re supposed to be breaking into a Midtown Fifth Avenue office building, it shouldn’t be too early.”

“I don’t think the time matters,” Carlo said. “I mean, we’re not going to be actually doing the break-in.”

“Well, then just pick, for chrissake,” Louie snapped. “Where do you have in mind to do the hit?”

Again Carlo and Brennan looked at each other as if waiting for the other to decide.

Louie looked skyward in frustration. “This isn’t rocket science,” he complained.

“What about at the pier.” The Vaccarro organization in the past had had a fruit import company as a cover in Maspeth on the East River just south of the Queens-Midtown Tunnel. The warehouse and the pier were still there but in sad shape. They hadn’t been able to sell them. They used the warehouse for storage.

“That’s fine,” Carlo said. Brennan nodded in agreement. The whole area was deserted, especially at night.

Louie looked at Arthur and Ted. “You guys in agreement? Because I want all of you in on it so there’s no trouble, as wild as these Japs are supposed to be.”

Arthur and Ted nodded.

“All right,” Louie continued. “We got the pickup place, we got the location of the hit, but we still don’t have the pickup time. What about eleven o’clock. What do you say?”

“That’s fine,” Carlo said, looking over at Brennan, who nodded.

“Jesus,” Louie said. “Must I come along and be the band leader? You guys can be pathetic.”

“How are we going to get them to come to the pier?” Carlo asked.

“Do I have to tell you everything?” Louie said, shaking his head in despair. “Tell them that’s where the explosives are stored for the distraction during the breakin. I don’t know. You figure it out.” Louie paused. “Are we okay now? We have the pickup location and hour, and we have the hit location, and what you’re 108

going to do with the bodies. Of course you’ll remove all identification. I mean, that’s a given.”

Everyone nodded.

“Now let’s go back to the morgue issue. Carlo, you and Brennan head over there right now.” Louie glanced at this watch. It was almost three-thirty. “Go in and ask for Vinnie Amendola. Say you’re family. When you talk to him, say that you’re working for Paulie and that you know what Paulie did for his father.”

“What was it?”

“I’m not sure of all the details, but Paulie said it had to do with the father having embezzled a couple hundred bucks in union funds, nothing huge. For that Vinnie’s father was supposedly going to be iced unless he came up with the money, plus fifty percent. Since he had done some work for Paulie, Paulie lent him the money, saving his life.”

“What if he refuses to talk to me?”

Louie stared at Carlo with disbelief. “What is this, a new Carlo? Usually when I tell you to do something, you do it, no questions asked. What should you do if he refuses to talk to you? Threaten to kill his dog. You’re a professional. Plus, all you want is some information about Satoshi. Of course, you can’t use Satoshi’s name. Call him ‘the body from the subway.’ And don’t threaten Vinnie right away. Be calm and reasonable. Don’t let them know who you are. Tell him you heard Laurie Montgomery was good at what she does. Be creative.”

“Okay,” Carlo said. “I get the picture.”

“If it turns out she has been assigned the case and she’s still working on it, and if Vinnie seems favorably inclined, meaning he’s not going to blab to the authorities about our questions, then ask if he has any suggestions as to how she might be encouraged to get off the case. Without being too obvious, suggest there might be money in it for him and for her. If that doesn’t work, then have Vinnie convey some threat. Got it?”

“I got it,” Carlo said.

“Then get your ass out of here!”

Carlo slid out from the table, tossed the cards that he’d been holding since Louie’s arrival, picked through the cash to extract what he thought he’d contributed to the pot, and motioned for Brennan to follow suit. When the men 109

were halfway to the door, in walked Hideki Shimoda, flanked by Susumu and Yoshiaki.

The saiko-komon was the size and shape of a sumo wrestler, with a bloated, florid face whose features seemed lost in folds of skin. As he walked he swayed from side to side.

Carlo and Brennan had to quickly move aside to avoid a collision. Susumu and Yoshiaki stuck by their saiko-komon’s side, slightly behind the immense man, causing the group to move like a wedge. As if detached from the world about them and with slight sneers on their faces, they didn’t even acknowledge Carlo and Brennan, despite spending the previous afternoon and evening with them.

In contrast to the apparent camaraderie between Louie and his minions, the relationship between Hideki and his soldiers was impersonal, almost martial.

Their attire was also strikingly different, with the Japanese wearing what they had had on the previous day: sharkskin suits, white dress shirts, black ties, and dark glasses, while the Americans, for the most part, wore casual sweaters and jeans. Only Carlo was smartly dressed, with his gray silk jacket, black silk turtleneck, and black gabardine pants.

As Louie got up from the table Hideki halted, bowed slightly. “Hello, Barbera-san.”

“Welcome, Shimoda-san,” Louie said, feeling awkward as he tried to imitate Hideki’s bow. Louie stepped back and gestured for Hideki to sit at a clean booth, uncluttered by coffee cups and pasta dishes.

Hideki and Louie settled into the booth while Susumu and Yoshiaki walked to the bar and sat stiffly on a pair of stools, their arms crossed. They did not speak but continued to stare at their boss.

“Thank you for coming out to visit my humble restaurant,” Louie began. While he spoke he wished it was going to be Hideki who was going to be whacked, or better yet, all three instead of just the impudent soldiers sitting at the bar with their stupid dark glasses and their spiky hair.