Keeplock: A Novel of Crime (27 page)

“I’m tired,” she admitted. “I’ve been tired for a long time.”

“Ya know something, I don’t sleep too well, either.”

I told her about the dreams and what had happened to me in the Cortlandt psych unit. When I’d finished, it was her turn to play the parent. Her arms encircled my neck and she gently kissed my mouth.

“It’ll be over soon, and when it’s over, you’ll come to stay with me. No more shelters. We’ll live happily ever after.”

“
Happier
ever after is more like it. Ya know, we forgot the dessert.”

“Right. I have a key lime ice cream pie from Baskin Robbins in the freezer. And I think I have some brandy in the cabinet.”

She got me drunk. Again. With the same result. When I woke up (at six o’clock, as usual), my head was pounding and my bowels felt like they were ready to explode. I stumbled into the bathroom and somehow managed to put my butt on the seat and my head in the sink at the same time, a strategy that gave me just enough strength to get into the shower. The shower gave me the strength to gargle, brush my teeth, and shave. By the time I finished, I felt as close to being human as I ever got.

Ginny was sitting up in bed when I came out of the bathroom. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the situation—it might have been both—but she looked almost haggard.

“You hung over?”

She shook her head. “I keep thinking about all the things that can go wrong.”

“In a couple of hours I’ll be gone.”

“What?”

“It’s time to suck it up. There’s no going back, anyway. I’ll get breakfast ready while you’re in the shower.”

Once I got a cup of coffee down, I began to feel good. Maybe a soldier is only happy when he’s going into combat. True, there was an element of fear, but there was excitement, too. Like sitting in the front car of one of those loop-the-loop roller coasters while the other riders are being loaded. Ginny picked up on my attitude the minute she entered the room.

“You’re different this morning.”

“Yeah. I feel good. The bullshit is finally over and I can go to work.”

“Is that the way you see it? As work?”

“It’s not like I made a decision, Ginny.” She stared at me blankly. “Let’s face it, this is what I do best. Dreams give me problems, but I can handle the reality. Practice makes perfect and all that crap.”

“I haven’t had that much practice.”

“Ginny, it’s Friday morning. By Saturday night it’ll be over. And don’t worry about Parker and Morasso. I’d bet my right arm there’ll be more than a hundred cops in that shopping center—cops don’t care for even-money situations—and they aren’t going to start shooting without giving Parker and Morasso a chance to come out. Too many witnesses. Condon and Rico are probably rehearsing their press interviews even as we speak.

“And there’s something else I forgot to mention. For a while I was thinking about going through with the job. I was gonna invent a bullshit story for Condon and Rico, rip off the armored car, and run as far and as fast as I could. If I’d gone that route, it’s even money that Eddie would have tried to kill me. I disrespected him. I took
his
gun and put it in
my
pocket. You already know about his plans for Morasso. Why should it be different for me? Because we’re old prison buddies? Eddie wants the money. Eddie’s slick and devious. Eddie needs revenge.”

“And you’re just getting him before he gets you? You told me you didn’t need excuses.”

“I don’t.
You
do. What do you want for breakfast?”

We ate in silence. It was so wrong, it felt right. It felt like all the upside-down schemes I’d been pursuing all my life. The funny part was that I knew it wouldn’t make any difference. If Ginny was having second thoughts—if she told me it would never work out between us—I’d still keep my end of the bargain.

“You sorry, Ginny?”

“Sorry about what?”

“That I jumped back into your life.”

Instead of tossing out the first line that came into her head, she thought about it for moment. Then she looked up at me. “I want you in the worst way. Fuck Eddie and Morasso. Fuck Parker and Avi. Fuck all of them. I want you and this is the only way I can get you. It’s wrong and I know it, but that’s the way I feel.” It was exactly what she’d said the night before, though I doubt she was aware of it.

I started to say something, but she silenced me with a wave of her hand. “Just be careful. There’s a lot of things that can go wrong. Don’t turn your back on Tony Morasso for one second. He’s going to be coming off the drugs and—”

“Ginny?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. You love me. And we all know the gods look out for lovers. You want more toast?”

I
T’S TEMPTING—ESPECIALLY FOR
people whose lives are filled with awful deeds, both given and taken—to see all human beings as equally corrupt. The sadistic C.O. who routinely brutalizes inmates becomes every C.O. in the Institution. The career bureaucrat who views clients as pieces of paper to be shuffled onto someone else’s desk becomes every parole officer in the system. I’d included Simon Cooper in my cynical little speech to Ginny and it wasn’t fair. Simon had gone the extra yard for me on more than one occasion. He’d stepped outside the system far enough to cause serious trouble for himself if his deeds came to light. What he was doing for me now—acting as a guarantee for my eventual freedom—was in no way part of his job description. I was wrong and I knew it.

So what I did by way of atonement was call him one last time with my bullshit. I found a pay phone in a drugstore on Queens Boulevard and got him on the second ring. Lucky Simon.

“It’s Pete.”

“Pete? You got a problem?” His voice was filled with concern. It made me feel much better.

“No problems. I just wanna let you know that I’m on my way to Eddie’s. I’ll be out of touch until it’s over.”

“What about Condon and Rico? They ease up any?”

“They’ve been keeping their hands to themselves, but they can’t control their mouths. I expect they’ll hold up their end. There’s not much else they can do.”

“There’s still a hundred ways things could go wrong.”

“This is true.”

“You call me Saturday night after it’s over. If I don’t hear from you, I’m gonna turn up some rocks. See what’s hiding in the dark. Hell, I’d be
there
, if I could. Right when the bust goes down. I asked Condon for permission to attend.”

“What’d he say?”

“He laughed. Told me it was none of my business.”

“No surprise. If somebody starts shooting, the cops don’t want any witnesses.”

“But I
am
an officer of law enforcement. I carry a gun and I arrest parole violators routinely. It’s not like I’m a civilian.”

“Simon, you worry too much. I’ll call you on Saturday night.”

“Be careful, Pete. Watch out for Avi Stern. If Eddie decides to move on you before tomorrow night, he’ll use Avi. And, Pete …”

Great. Now I had a mommy
and
a daddy. Maybe I’d be adopted, after all.

The kennel in Woodhaven was seething when I arrived at ten-thirty. Eddie started barking the minute I came through the door.

“You’re late, cuz. You asked for an extra day and I was nice enough to let ya have it. You at least coulda got here on time.”

Annie was standing next to him. She was wearing a pair of green gym shorts and a red halter. No bra and, as far as I could tell, no panties, either. As the job drew closer, she was becoming more and more aroused. It added a nice flavor to the tension.

“Don’t be too hard, Eddie,” she said. “You know how it is with young lovers. Peter prob’ly had to get one last piece before—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie snarled. “I don’t wanna hear that cunt bullshit anymore.”

I thought he was going to hit her, but he settled for ordering her into the kitchen, then turned back to me.

“We’re gonna meet in my office in an hour to go through it again. Be there.”

“You got it, Eddie.”

The last thing I needed was a confrontation with Eddie Conte. The whole deal would be over in thirty-six hours and I’d already decided not to rock the boat. If Eddie needed to see me crawl, I’d crawl. I’d do anything short of giving up the 9mm tucked behind my belt.

I strolled into the kitchen, looking for a cup of coffee. Annie was bent over the sink, washing dishes. The view from that angle was spectacular. She
wasn’t
wearing panties and the seam of her gym shorts cut a deep line from her crotch to the top of her ass. Parker and Morasso were sitting at the kitchen table. Morasso was drooling. Parker was oblivious.

“Whatta ya say, John,” I called out. “You fit and ready?”

“I’m in mourning,” he announced.

“For who?”

“For me. We tossed the computer last night. Just took it and threw it in a dumpster. It was horrible.”

As far as I could make out, he was serious.

“Well, what’d you expect to do, carry it along on the job?”

“Yeah,” Morasso snorted. “If shit happens, he was gonna ask the fuckin’ computer what to do.”

Actually, Parker wasn’t going to get out of the van at all. His job was to jam any attempt by the guard inside the truck to broadcast an alarm.

“I understand what you’re saying, Pete.” He ignored Morasso. “But why couldn’t we leave it where someone could take it? Even if the serial number was traced, it couldn’t come back on us.”

“Ain’t that sweet,” Morasso persisted. “The asshole wants to find a nice home for his baby computer.”

“What is problem here?” Avi came into the room. His voice was rock hard. Even Morasso jumped.

“No problem, Avi,” I said. “Tony is just being his usual cooperative self.” I noted the huge revolver Avi carried in a shoulder rig. It was either a .44 or a .357. I couldn’t tell which and didn’t care. With its eight-inch barrel, it looked more like a cannon, anyway.

Avi sat down at the table. The tension had finally gotten to him. “This job we are doing tomorrow is perfect. We are only ones who can fuck it up. This will not happen.”

He gave me a significant look. It told me that we were in this together. Eddie was too distracted, Parker too obsessed, and Morasso too crazy. He and I would hold it together.

At least that’s what I thought he meant. It’s easy to make mistakes when you try to read people’s minds. I nodded my acceptance, hoping for the best.

“You pick out a gun yet?” I asked.

“Is not called ‘gun.’” He shook his head in disgust. “Is called rifle. Is called weapon. Is not ‘gun.’”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stern. Have you chosen a rifle? Or a weapon?”

“I have.”

“It’s about fuckin’ time,” Morasso growled. Eddie had cut out the dope and Tony had gone right back to being a complete asshole.

“Ya wanna eat, you better get your orders in. You got a meeting in an hour.” Annie had managed to turn around. She was leaning back against the counter, probably pissed that we weren’t paying any attention to her.

I looked closely at Avi while he and the others mulled over the possibilities: eggs and bacon, eggs and sausages, onion omelets. Avi looked directly at Annie without showing a hint that anything besides food was on his mind. I decided that I couldn’t trust a man I couldn’t read. Then remembered that I’d just made a pact with him. Then decided I’d have to watch him all the time. Then remembered that he was going to be arrested before he ever got to the roof of that school.

“I don’t want a fuckin’ omelet,” Morasso shouted. “Omelets are fa fags. Whatta you say, Pete? You want a fuckin’ omelet?”

“I ate before I got here. I’m not hungry.”

“So it’s onion omelets?” Annie asked.

“Two against one,” Parker announced. “Democracy in action.”

“I ain’t eatin’ no fuckin’ omelet. That’s fuckin’ Jew food.”

I came across the table, putting everything I had into my right hand. Morasso froze and I caught him flush on the mouth. He went head over heels, taking the chair with him. The back of his skull smashed into the linoleum with a satisfying thud.

When he came up, shaking his head to clear the dizziness, the top of his shirt collar was already soaked with blood.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he hissed through broken teeth.

Death threats are never tolerated in the Institution. That’s because the convict making the threat
has
to follow through. To do less would be dishonorable. My hand dropped to the little 9mm, but the weapon never cleared my belt. Avi had dragged the cannon out of his pocket and trained it on the center of Morasso’s forehead.

It was funny, in a way. I hit Morasso because I was afraid that Avi would kill him. Avi once told me that a Jew is a Jew forever. Despite the fact that an Israeli court had sent him to prison for doing what the army had trained him to do. Despite the fact that he’d been hounded out of the country after his release. Avi had been the only Jew in Cortlandt, and as far as I know he’d never taken a backward step.

Now Avi was out there trying to stop
me
from killing Morasso. At least I hoped he was. He was giving a very convincing performance. Especially when he drew back the hammer.

“Why are we needing this man?” he asked. “I cannot understand why we cannot do this without him.”

Morasso’s eyes widened, then he said the magic words: “Please, don’t kill me, please.”

“Don’t do it, Avi,” I said, playing my part. “Let it go. Tony’s gonna be good. Right, Tony?”

He nodded, his eyes glued to the barrel of the gun.

“Let the hammer down, Avi.” I glanced at Parker and Annie. Parker was watching with interest, Annie with anticipation. Nobody in the room saw Tony Morasso as a human being about to have his heart blown through his rib cage. He was an expendable detail or a pain in the ass or a problem to be solved. Anything, but human. “C’mon, Avi. Think about how you’ll feel if you blow the job over a piece of shit like Tony Morasso.”

Avi tilted the barrel of the gun up toward the ceiling and let the hammer down. “You are right. Even if we are not really needing this man, Eddie is thinking that we do.”

I went over to the refrigerator and filled a towel with ice. I’d played my part to the hilt, but now that our little domestic drama was over, I felt the weariness fill my body. I wanted to go into a bedroom and lie down, to face the wall and ignore the bullshit, to sleep without dreaming.