The Winners Circle (20 page)

“
Yes.” He noticed how weak that sounded. So much for having the ‘presence’ that Dick had mentioned.

Dick conjured that hit man look in his eye. A fresh idea was forming. “I think it’s time we found out for a fact or not if that baby is yours.”

“
Is
this the best way?” Jerry sat in the back seat of Dick’s navy blue Lincoln Navigator. Tom drove, and Tucker rode shotgun. Jerry nudged Dick in the elbow. “Are you sure we can’t speak to Gina first?”

“
She’ll never agree to it.” Dick was dressed in his black uniform—turtleneck, linen slacks, Milanese loafers. He had the Winners Alliance files spread on his lap, studying a floor plan of Gina’s new condo in the Princeton borough. “We need results, not to mention discretion. And the Spagnoli woman is incapable of both.”

“
I don’t know how discrete this will be.”

“
More discrete than a public court battle, and you don’t want that. Millionaires lose in the public eye. Spagnoli understands that and is using it against you. The press will turn you into Leona Helmsley and dig you a grave.”

“
It won’t go that far.”

“
I’m telling you, get the blood specimen from the child. A gene test will eliminate you as the father with 99.9 percent accuracy.”

“
What if I just sit down with her and ask for a sample?”

“
I expect a suggestion like that coming from Tom.”

Tom rolled his eyes in the rearview mirror. Tucker snickered.

“
There has to be another way,” Jerry said.

“
We’ve been over this. We can’t uncover the child’s medical records, not even the pediatrician’s name. The Spagnoli woman has got the child’s information clamped down like Fort Knox gold.”

“
That’s for sure.”

“
She must be under guidance. My guess is her lawyer is excellent.”

“
That’s what my attorney said.”

“
Don’t doubt it. Tucker tried bribing the records office in town. It was like the child didn’t exist.”

“
I saw Gina. She was as plump as a Thanksgiving turkey.” Jerry glanced at the color blowup of the baby—bruised and abused from delivery. A swirl of black hair covered his head, much like his own at birth. He sighed. This was his relationship with his son: paychecks out, pictures back in the mail. The level of communication wasn’t much better than with his old man. “Damn.”

“
Take it easy,” Dick said. “Just follow the plan, and we’ll straighten out this mess.”

“
What if it really is my child?”

“
I’ve got a plan for that too.”

Jerry hesitated to hear it but knew he would anyway. Dick loved the sound of his own voice, especially when he had an idea, which he always did.

“
The Alliance will take care of everything,” Dick said. “This is only phase one. Phase two, if necessary, will be to get your son away from the Spagnoli woman.”

“
Let’s stick to phase one for tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“
I’ll review, so there’s no confusion. When Tom and Tucker create the diversion, go in the opposite direction with the child. Create time and space between you and Spagnoli.”

“
This better work.”

“
We’ve got sirens, bomb explosions, the works.” Dick glanced at the huge speakers in the payload compartment. They looked like walnut veneer replicas of the Washington Monument. They were unable to stand up straight in the truck. “We bought Tucker a new stereo.”

“
One thousand watts, mate.” Tucker grinned, his big ears fanning from his head like open sails. “Can’t wait to plug her in at home.”

“
At a minimum, Spagnoli will run to the window to check it out,” Dick said. “That’ll give you time to duck out the rear. Later on, tell her you retreated to protect your son. Who would blame you?”

“
Okay.” Jerry pulled the blood stick from his pocket.

“
Stick the kid and tuck it away,” Dick said. “We don’t need a lot.”

“
That’s the part I hate.”

“
It’s simple. You practiced a dozen times on Tom last night.”

Tom waved his hand above the steering wheel. The band-aids on his fingertips flashed beneath a passing streetlight.

“
Alright. I can do this.”

“
That’s the spirit.” Dick slapped Jerry’s shoulder and turned toward the front seat. “Men, pull over at the next corner.”

Gina came to the door in a pink negligee with a satin shawl. Jerry’s eyes fell to the aureole of her left breast peeking from the lacy material. She appeared trim and energetic, yet she’d given birth only a few months earlier.

“
Hello, Gina,” Jerry said.

She allowed him a moment to stare, before whipping the shawl over her chest. “Excuse me. I was just feeding your son.”

“
How’s little Jerry doing?”

“
You can see for yourself.” She tugged down on the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend. She rose to the tips of her bare toes and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“
I phoned you on short notice. I hope it’s not too late.”

She sparkled. “We’ve been waiting up for you.”

Gina led him down the hall to the room beside the master bedroom. Jerry reviewed the floor plan in his head. Gina occupied the first floor. When the diversion struck, he was to exit near the patio. It was a warm spring night. She might not hear the baby cry or even notice him missing.

The nursery was azure blue with puffy clouds sponged on the upper walls and ceiling, which pleased Jerry in a way he couldn’t name. Gina dipped her arms into the crib and removed the swaddled child.

Jerry held his breath. The infant’s dark hair was gone, replaced by a smooth scalp with scant flecks of dried skin. A little hand with tiny fingernails poked from the powder blue blanket and pawed Gina’s chest. Jerry had handled the same breast on a couple of occasions. How strange was life?

“
Here’s your boy.” Gina set the baby in Jerry’s arms.

His shoulders drew tight, and his arms went stiff. He feared he might drop the child, but the soft bundle weighed nothing at all.

He tugged the blanket from the baby’s chin and stared at the little nose, eyes, and mouth. The baby latched onto Jerry’s finger. It felt warm and firm. He caught an unusual sweet scent, as his own emotions beset him. He thought his eyes might tear but resisted the feeling.

“
What do you think?” Gina asked, beaming as if she’d produced the little masterpiece all by herself.

“
He’s so small.”

“
He’s already put on three pounds.”

“
Three?”

“
He’ll gain a lot more with your genes.”

“
I hope you can forgive me. I never meant for this to happen.”

“
I know you. You’re a decent man. You’ll do the right thing.”

Jerry found her face. Paying money wasn’t a lot to ask. He had millions, most of which remained untouched by his Spartan ambitions. “I’ll do everything I can.”

A sharp explosion echoed in the street. At first, he forgot about the diversion. He clutched the baby harder, noticing the panicked look on Gina’s face.

“
Oh my God.” Gina bolted from the room.

Jerry watched her disappear down the hall. He stood, dumbfounded by the excellence of Dick’s plan.

The baby’s eyes were wide-open, staring back at the big man above. The child’s eyes seemed to be saying:
It worked! You’re crazy friends pulled it off. It actually worked
.

Little Jerry kept staring.
You’re supposed to run now, silly.

Jerry rushed for the exit, with the baby tucked in one arm like a football. He zigzagged through the halls, dodged a standing lamp near the corner, and located the den at the back of the condo. He slipped through the back door and onto the patio in the dark, thrilled to hit his destination on target.

Little Jerry didn’t seem to mind. He enjoyed the motion, cooing at daddy.

Jerry shut the door and whipped out the blood stick. He heard Dick’s words, ‘Stick the child and forget it. It’s done a million times a day, in thousands of hospitals.’
He hoped it didn’t hurt the little guy.

The sound of explosions reverberated from the front. Little Jerry blew bubbles. Jerry opened the sterile package and jabbed the stick into the baby’s palm.

The child began wailing in accordance with the bombs.

Jerry grabbed the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. “Not one of those.”

He glanced the length of the building. The condos spread out like a prison wall, redundant and unscalable yet adorned with a variety of patio furniture, barbecue grills, and the odd bicycle. He slid the blood sample into the plastic sleeve and ran for the front.

Bombs continued to burst, echoing throughout the complex. As he rounded the building, he nearly tripped over a stray garden hose and counted his blessings. He reached the front lawn, holding the child close, protecting him against the noise, but the explosions suddenly ceased.

He stopped and rocked little Jerry. The baby wailed like a bad dream.

“
It’s okay.” He rocked softer and then faster. He was as suited to this business as being a millionaire. “Please, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

The noise of car wrecks supplanted the suburban warfare. From Tucker’s new monster stereo, the peaceful neighborhood was treated to a concert of screeching tires, crashing metal, and shattering windshields. The baby achieved a crescendo of cries between gasps for air.

Amid the worst of it, Jerry heard Tucker and Tom arguing. This particular change of diversionary tactic wasn’t in their plans.

Jerry headed toward the Navigator. The men shoved each other by the open trunk. Dick was mediating, while pressing buttons on the stereo’s main console. The cassette tape flipped over, and the sound of barking dogs punched through the huge speakers.

“
Hey!” Jerry yelled, rocking the baby. “Cut the noise already!”

He stood in the middle of the street, screaming at his partners. He was afraid to approach Tucker’s watt-guzzling stereo system with the baby. He cupped one hand over the baby’s ears, waving the other to seize their attention. “I’ve got it already.”

Heads poked from windows in the shell-shocked complex. Two men wandered onto their lawns. Dogs barked and howled. Jerry considered retreating into Gina’s condo, leaving the fearless trio to whatever end befell them.

Then he saw the dogs.

A rottweiler, with massive haunches and a head like the working end of a front-end loader, tore down the pavement. It appeared disturbed by the noise, bearing down on the tall screaming man who flapped his arm in the street like an out of control water pump. Two dachshunds followed the bigger dog, their long bodies waggling like balloon animals with feet.

Jerry stopped yelling and lowered his arm, but it appeared too late to slow the dogs. He watched the charging animals, shuffling through his options like a bad hand at a poker game. He decided to fold, running in the opposite direction. He’d handle any dog alone. Cortez was big, and Jerry could wrestle that animal down, but not with the baby, not with little Jerry.

The German dogs kept pace behind him. The rottweiler ran well out in front. The dachshunds were one thing. He’d stamp them out with his shoes if needed, kick them clear across the road, but the rottweiler formed another problem, and Jerry had only one free arm.

He leapt over the hedges and flowerbeds. The German breeds followed. The rottweiler hurdled the gardens, while the dachshunds trod through the greenery and mashed the pansies without much pizzazz.

Condo Block C lay several yards ahead. Jerry searched for a safe spot—a place with elevation. Forget the stairs. That big dog might corner him there.

The Germans closed the gap, as the bomb bursts returned. Jerry spilled over a chainlink fence, careful to keep little Jerry unharmed. His shoulder slammed the cement surface, and he braced his legs against a steel patio table to stop rolling. He saw the aqua blue ripples of a swimming pool lit up at night.

Jerry stood up. The Germans penetrated the pool yard. The rottweiler cleared the fence, tumbling to a halt, while the dachshunds squeezed through the gate like rats. He jumped onto the patio table and hoped for the best.

The rottweiler galloped to the table, scraping its paws upon the cement. Jerry waited for the powerful dog to spring off its paws. He crouched, preparing to dart in any direction, but the dog stopped short, releasing a growl that rivaled Tucker’s stereo.

The dachshunds mounted the chairs and hopped upon the tabletop. Jerry shifted his weight, sensing his precarious stance. The table teetered and moaned. It wouldn’t be long before the whole thing toppled and he was into the shallow end of the pool, holding poor little Jerry above the water.

Not surprising, the smaller dachshund was the most aggressive. It latched onto the cuff of Jerry’s chinos and tugged, snarling like a big house cat.