Robert Tanenbaum - Act of Revenge

“Interesting,” said Keegan, and twirled his Bering. “What’re you going to do?”

“Mimi Vasquez is getting a warrant signed for Lie’s, or Leung’s, arrest as we speak. But before we grab him, I’m going across the street and give Colombo a heads-up on it. Give him a shot at doing the right thing and save him some embarrassment.”

“You’re hoping he’ll be so grateful he’ll lay off Guma?”

“That too, but the main thing is to reestablish some fucking civility between us and the feds. If we don’t get our acts together on this Chinese mob business, this city’s going to look like Macao in a couple of years. I think clear evidence that a triad is moving in on a Mafia family should catch Tommy’s eye, don’t you?”

“Maybe. But I think you should remember that when the words ‘gratitude’ and ‘civility’ are spoken, Tommy has to look them up in a dictionary. What’s your plan if he laughs in your face?”

“Oh, in that case I intend to drive the little fuck into the ground like a tent peg. He’ll have to wear a Reagan mask on his face for a year.”

Keegan laughed, a big, slow, hearty sound. “Ah, Butch, you’re the last true gentleman in the business, you know that? It’s your glory and your shame. Now, go and conquer, and send those damned pencil necks in here.”

The first thing the U.S. attorney said when Karp entered his office ten minutes later, even before asking him to take a chair, was “I hope to hell you’re here to apologize.”

“No,” said Karp, “actually, I-”

“Goddamn it! Do you think I’m going to let you get away with that kind of irresponsible calumny on a national news show?” Colombo went on like this for some minutes, his face red with a mist of forceful saliva forming in front of it as he ranted. Karp imagined it must have been an alarming display were you one of the man’s subordinates. Karp waited calmly for Colombo to pause for breath, and interjected, “I’m here to save you from making a serious mistake. If you don’t want to hear it. .”

“What mistake?”

Again Karp told the Lie-Leung-Nia story, with the theory about a triad taking over the Bollanos. At the end, Colombo did actually laugh in his face. It was a whinnying, unpleasant sound, quite unlike Keegan’s.

“You have to be joking. You expect me to abandon my key witness against the Bollanos because of this. . farrago of supposition and bartered testimony?”

“He’s not a witness, Tom, he’s a participant. No, he’s the mastermind behind the whole thing. He did Catalano on his own, and he’s trying to frame Pigetti for it. He did the Sings, too, which is why he tried to kidnap my daughter. He’s playing us. I was hoping you’d want to cooperate, but in any case, I’m having an arrest warrant prepared and I intend to charge him at least with the kidnap and assault. I have no doubt that once we’re focused on this, we’ll be able to generate a good case for the three murders as well.”

Colombo laughed again. “Oh, great, the evil oriental genius strikes. Hey, I appreciate you’re worrying about your daughter, maybe you ought to talk to her about who she’s hanging out with, but this is a pile of horseshit. A Chinese gangster uses a couple of aliases and then a little girl picks out a picture, and some lowlife Viet picks out a picture, and that’s your case? What I should do here is start asking some serious questions about why the D.A.’s office is so concerned about shying away from pounding the Bollanos that you’d concoct this fairy tale.”

Karp waited until his temper subsided and then asked, “Are you being deliberately obtuse, or do you really not grasp this? I’ll say it again: a Chinese triad is taking over a New York crime family, and you’re helping them do it.”

Colombo’s smile vanished into his face like a bit of toilet paper sucked down a drain.

“If that’s it, Butch, I got a meeting,” he said.

“Go ahead, get him,” said Karp into the phone. More waiting after that, a half hour, an hour. The phone rang, the private direct line. Karp snatched it up.

“Well?”

“Sorry, Stretch, we came up empty,” said Fulton.

“Oh, shit ! Colombo, that son of a bitch, moved

him? Jesus, I’ll fucking arrest him for obstruction of-”

“Hold on there, son. The marshals watching him were as surprised as we were. He wasn’t moved. He took off, out a bathroom window. He got a call, maybe a half hour before. They listened in, of course, but it was in Chinese, and real brief. Then he goes in to the can, and that’s the last they saw him.”

“I can’t believe this!”

“Believe it, son. Wily Willie has flown the coop. Not hard, when you think about it. He’s supposed to be scared of what’s out there. They’re protecting him, not particularly guarding him from escaping.”

“You got him out on the air, right?”

“Yeah,” said Fulton, “and I got cars cruising the district and people covering the subways. Nothing yet. The little bastard’s gonna be a tough one to nail if he gets into Chinatown.”

Leung sat in the rear of the van, surrounded by the silent White Dragons. In front of him Kenny Vo mumbled to himself and snapped the slide on his MAC-10 machine pistol. He had been acting strangely from the moment he had made the prearranged pickup up near the motel at which the Chinese had been a guest of the federal government, and Leung bitterly regretted ever having made use of him. If he’d had a team of Hong Kong boys, none of this disaster would have happened, but that, of course, was precisely the catch. He was not here as an agent of the Da Qan Zai, but on his own, hence without real triad support. It had been a gigantic, a colossal bluff, and it had nearly come off. For if he had gained control of a Mafia family, their connections, their net of influence, their sources of income, then his triad would have welcomed him warmly, and his superiors would have basked gladly in the credit. He realized that he had badly miscalculated when his ma jai had been so neatly lifted off the street. He had thought it was the Italians, grown suspicious, sending a message. But the Italians were asleep and stupid. No, it had been that girl, and some strange Vietnamese who unaccountably held her in some value.

He cast a sour glance at the boys sitting next to him. If the tong knew his true position, any authority he still had over these dog farts would immediately vanish, and shortly thereafter so would he. Meanwhile the terror of the triad still held sway, and perhaps something could be done to save things even now. The girl, first of all. It was by now perfectly apparent that she had seen him and had at last told the prosecutor. How they penetrated his persona as Lie was still obscure, but this was not of any importance absent the testimony of the Karp girl connecting him with the Sing killings. The Chen girl and the daughter of the illegals, Ma, would remain quite silent for the moment, and could be disposed of in the future.

If there was one. He must make prompt inquiry as to where the Karp family could be found. Apparently, like many Chinese officials, they had decamped to the villages, where, without doubt, they were lording it over their rural relations. The particular village would have to be located, although he had no idea how to do this. Meanwhile they were embarked on this absurd vendetta of Vo’s. Leung had agreed to it in order to secure the cooperation of Vo, which he still needed. Another item for future disposal.

His thoughts kept moving back to the girl Louh-si. A non-Chinese Chinese, a monster that could never have existed in civilized lands. Chinese saw but were silent; the lo faan were not silent but were blind. That was the way things were. And for her to have such a father, another piece of rotten luck. Perhaps it had been a mistake to go to the father, but no, it had been important to find out his character. Would his own greed fool him? Could he be influenced by threatening the daughter? Clearly neither was the case. Well, he had found another greedy fool in Colombo, and all that was necessary now was to eliminate the daughter. Not an impossible task, surely. She was, however talented, only a girl. The van was slowing, turning. It had left a heavily trafficked road and was now on some residential street. Vo turned in his seat and spoke to the White Dragons. He spoke a crude and badly accented Cantonese. “In and out. No problems. Get the boy. Anybody try to stop you, shoot them.” The van stopped.