For Nothing (30 page)

Hambone tried again to raise his pistol, but Tom Coughlin gave it a kick and the firearm slid across the floor. Tom, his gun leveled at Hambone, across the floor. Tom, his gun leveled at Hambone, looked over at Jimmy with a questioning glance.

Jimmy, with his arms around Alex, just offered a shrug of his shoulders in reply.

With that, Tom Coughlin turned around and regarded the man at his feet. He drifted further down the wal as his energy left him, but Hambone’s eyes gazed at Tom, confusion seeping from them. Tom shrugged his own shoulders and pul ed the trigger.

Alex winced as he caught sight of the results of the blast. Hambone’s head snapped back and bounced off of the wal . At the same time, a splatter of blood and brain matter sprayed across the enclosure. The smel of gunpowder fil ed the room, fol owed by the hint of charred flesh. Tommy turned around, a look of disgust at the scene before him stil registering across his face.

“Tom, look at that mess. What’d you do that for, he was dying anyway.”

“Shut up, Jimmy. I don’t have time to wait for this prick to bleed out. Let’s go.”

“Glad to see us, Vin?” Jimmy shot Alex a wink.

“Yeah, Jimmy. Yeah.” Alex took a step but his knees felt weak. He stumbled and Jimmy Jacks turned just in time to catch him.

The trio exited the garage with Jimmy holding Alex upright. Tom Coughlin led the way to a dark sedan with tinted windows parked on the side of the road. Alex noticed that the motor was idling.

When they were about halfway there, Tom stopped and ordered, “You two wait right here.” He walked towards the car, and looked left and then right. He pul ed opened the door and disappeared into the back seat.

Jimmy gave Alex a grimace and stayed by his side helping him stay on his feet. After a long moment that seemed like an eternity, Tom Coughlin reemerged from the automobile and signaled Vaughn to come over. Lifting himself off of the support Jimmy Jacks was providing, Alex half limped and half dragged his body over to Tommy.

“Big man wants a word with you.”

Alex nodded his head and opened the door to the sedan. It was dark inside the vehicle and as Vaughn sat down on the leather seat and closed the door behind him, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom.

“Hel o Vincent. Or should I say, officer.” Vaughn looked over and almost jumped out of his skin.

“Yes, I know now who you are.”

There in the car next to him was Christian

“The Pope” Biela. The detective shook his head. The Pope must have known that Jimmy and Tommy worked for Falzone. Yet here he was and there they were. Alex winced as he thought back to his antics earlier that morning. Vaughn felt even more vulnerable as he noticed his gun and holster and knife sitting on the seat between them.

“What to do with you detective? You know, I came here to kil you along with those,” here The Pope dragged out the ‘S’ lacing it with contempt or trying to hold back a cough; perhaps both, “cops.

Those pig fuckers, those two-faced bastards. I’ve been wanting to deal with them for a long time. It made my day when I thought you were with ‘em. But, you’re not.” He started coughing and held up a finger tel ing Alex to wait while tears rol ed down the consigliore’s cheeks. When he composed himself, he continued, “There’s a geek’s body in the kitchen that led us to that conclusion just moments ago.” Alex could just nod his head in silent accord.

“So back to the question. What. To. Do. With.

You. “

“Al due respect sir, but I’m confused. I thought these two worked with Falzone.”

The Pope raised a brow, and glanced at Alex. “I forgot that you spent time as Mr. Garducci.

I’m not mad about that by the way. A man doing his job. Besides, any hindrance to that group is ok by me. As for Tommy and Jimmy…” The Pope let out a wry chuckle. “It amuses me that the police think they are the only ones that plant people. I mean, we show them time and time again that we can get people inside their very organizations, yet stil , they assume they are the masters of infiltration.” Vaughn was aware at this point how adept the gangsters seemed to be at penetrating organizations.

“But you sent Rafael to Wizeguyz to bring the place to the ground.”

“Wel , yes. Perhaps others view it as coincidence that Tommy and Jimmy weren’t there when that went down? Interesting.”

He paused for effect and pul ed a cigar from He paused for effect and pul ed a cigar from his jacket. It was rol ed tight and Alex wondered whether or not it was a Cuban. He never smoked the things but he figured, by the way The Pope slide it under his nose and soaked in its aroma, that it must be a good one.

“Me? I don’t believe in coincidence. Take you for example. This, this is no coincidence. That’s why I’m not gonna kil you.” He grimaced and took another look at the cigar and then tucked it back into the folds of his jacket. “You have unfinished business to attend to. I sympathize. But let me ask you one question. Who did you see here today?” Vaughn knew where this was going, and given his day, he was fine with playing along. “No one.”

“Wel then, I guess there’s no reason to kil you. Let us just cal it honor amongst thieves.”

“Honor amongst thieves.”

The Pope held out his hand and Vaughn clasped it, grateful.

After a brief moment, The Pope gave Alex a nod and said, “Now get the fuck out of my car.” Vaughn stepped out and shut the door. The car started forward and then stopped. The window rol ed down and Alex heard The Pope. “You might need these.” Alex walked up and grabbed his pistol and shoulder holster and switch blade.

“Thanks.”

Without saying a word, The Pope waved the driver forward and rol ed the window up. Within moments, he disappeared down the block and around the bend.

Before Vaughn could take stock of what just happened, Jimmy ran towards another car that Tommy must have pul ed up to the curb. “Get in Vinnie!”

“Hurry up, you two!”

Tommy was inching the car along only just waiting for Jimmy and Alex. Having no other way out of the place, and not wanting to linger around the scene, Vaughn hobbled into the backseat of Tommy’s car. As they peeled out of the neighborhood, Alex realized the reason for their rush. Smoke bil owed up behind them as the safe house burst into flames. Jimmy Jacks turned around in his seat and watched the smoke recede behind them; his eyes alight like a child on Christmas morning. They rode along in silence. After a while, Vaughn felt the need to cut through the quiet.

These men saved my life.
As much as he hated it, he felt indebted.

“What a day,” he stated.

“Day ain’t over yet.” Tommy stated.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you two for earlier. You saved my life.”

Jimmy flashed him a toothy grin, but Tommy said, “Just fol owing orders.”

Vaughn accepted the statement. After few more moments, when they were safe beyond the area of the fire, Alex had Tommy drop him off at a diner not far from the basebal stadium where a minor league team played. With a wave, Alex said goodbye and stood alone on the street corner. The cold air felt good on his battered body and he found a patch of pavement free of snow courtesy of some wel -placed salt by an employee of the diner.

Flipping open his cel phone, which somehow survived in his coat pocket, he dialed Ryan Slate. He needed to gauge the truth of El iot’s statement that Ryan was not working for them. Alex needed someone he could trust. If El iot wasn’t lying, then Alex needed to warn Ryan. He had to warn him about El iot, and about the fact that the Garducci cover was blown.

After a moment the cal connected. “Hey, Vincenzio here.”

“Ryan, its Alex. I need you to meet me at a bar downtown. Meet me at 76 Pearl Street.”

“I’m a little, involved, at the moment.”

“Ryan, it’s a matter of life and death. You need to get your ass over here.”

The silence echoed on the other line. “Okay.

I’l be there in twenty.”

Alex hung up the phone and then went inside to sit down and wait. His stomach rumbled. It felt like forever since he enjoyed a warm meal.

*

The hum of the tires lent a rhythm to The Pope’s musings. Nuncio drove him through the city streets towards the bar that had been the epicenter of the consigliore’s life for the last twenty years. He let his eyes drift into the al eyways they passed as they drove and somewhere in those catacombs, he they drove and somewhere in those catacombs, he found his own mind hidden in the maze of side streets.

Christian Biela—he’d been cal ed that in a previous life. Sure, people stil used his name, but what they were thinking, what they were al thinking, wa s
this is the fucking Pope.
He roomed with a close

cousin

of

Don

Ciancetta’s

as

an

undergraduate.

Back then, The Pope was a scrapper and won more bar fights with his new col ege roommate than he could count. It was amazing the kind of bond that could be forged through common blood and bruised knuckles. His roommate was long since gone. His throat was cut in Vegas. But he introduced him to his cousin, a man named Leonard Ciancetta.

The Pope cupped his chin in his hand. Most people might be angry how it al worked out. But The Pope had a sense of loyalty that the Roman Legions would be hard-pressed to instil in its soldiery. His eyes darted back and forth amongst the passing avenues as he saw his past playing out right in front of him. He could see their faces as clear as if they were being cast on the wal s of the buildings by a movie projector. They were younger then, but their roles in each other’s lives were steady, and remained unchanged.

Christian hadn’t been able to pay for the law school he got into. He remembered bitching about it to Leonard while they were searching for some cheap col ege pussy on Quarter Beer night. It was offhanded, and Christian needed an ear to hear his gripes. Imagine his surprise when he found fifty thousand dol ars in cash sitting on his pil ow when he got home.

They were friends, but more than that, Don Ciancetta was a benefactor to the lawyer. Since that day, The Pope, as he was now cal ed, made every move he could in order to help his friend the Don
.

It’s the least I can do
, he mused.

To The Pope, every player in this game of life was just a pawn devoted to the protection of The King.

The Pope felt a cough coming on and brought his handkerchief. He paused for a moment, wondering if he could hold back the explosion. His body ached from al of the hacking. He couldn’t, and he caught the air and spit onto the piece of fabric, glancing at its contents before folding it over and sticking it back into the folds of his jacket.

Blood.

He noticed a bit of it and wondered if it was from the constant coughing rubbing his throat dry or if it was from something worse. It would have to wait either way. In a few hours, he would know whether or not it even mattered.

The Pope ran his fingers through his hair. It was dark, his hair, but used to be darker. He wondered if the hair was thinning out. He couldn’t be sure though, these changes happened so gradual.

Everything changed. This whole war, it was about fighting against the tide of change. If they won, it would just stave off change until the next guy wanted a poke at the top spot, or they al got arrested. It was the way of this world.

The Pope, though, he built a reputation of being able to protect the family from within the confines of the law. Sure, he stepped over on more than one occasion, but reputation—reputation is everything. For instance, he didn’t
know
what happened in that garage. He could wel imagine, but he didn’t
know.
Sometimes, that was enough.

He let that cop go. Most people would have kil ed him. The Pope wasn’t playing games when he said he respected the fact that the officer was doing his job.

Maybe if more people just did their job this
country wouldn’t be such a cluster fuck
.

There was also opportunity there. When the cop stuck that gun in The Pope’s face, Christian felt pretty sure about the cop’s desire to kil Rafael Rontego. Either way, it was better for the family and better for Don Ciancetta.

Hell, and if the cop gets the best of Rafael,
then we might be able to strong arm the pig to our
advantage
, he mused.

“We’re here, sir” Nuncio declared.

The Pope came back to the present and realized they pul ed up to the curb in front of Rumors.

Nuncio got out and slammed the door beside him.

The Pope put on a pair of dark sunglasses even though it was overcast and threatening to snow outside.

A moment later and Nuncio opened the back door and The Pope was sliding out of the car. A few of the fel as hanging around the outside of the bar of the fel as hanging around the outside of the bar stopped what they were doing and shuffled closer to watch The Pope enter the building. It was al slicked back hair and leather jackets from the smal throng of men that cloistered around the consigliore. It was al about respect and The Pope meant to see to it that, after tonight, respect for the hierarchy would no longer be an issue.

Alex Vaughn sat in the booth in the back of the bar and sipped on some water. He picked this seat because it was close to the rear exit and afforded him a view of the front door. The bartender was kind enough to rustle up some chicken fingers and Alex was devouring them when Ryan Slate made his way into the hole in the wal bar.