Greg Gifune - Night Work

"I thought you were above kicking me when I was down, Vin." His free hand curled slowly into a fist.

"I ain't above much," Vincent chuckled.

The tip of the blade slashed Charlie's face, and he staggered back. Ignoring the burning sensation spreading from cheek to jaw-line, he tried to run for the bathroom, but one of the men grabbed him by the throat and pinned him easily to the counter.

"Christ," he said, choking. "Please – don't."

The man buried the blade just above his crotch with a single violent thrust. Charlie gagged, felt bile and blood rising in his throat as the man tugged the knife upward, tearing his abdomen as it went.

Charlie fell. On hands and knees, he tried desperately to prevent his intestines from spilling from his belly and uncoiling onto the bloody floor like a giant eel.

His body bucked and collapsed to the floor, a large pool of blood forming around it.

"Trust's an important thing, Frank," Vincent told him. "And I just didn't think I could trust you anymore. You're a risk, and with all that was going on I knew I couldn't afford the headache."

"You killed Gus," Frank said, more statement than question.

"I didn't kill anybody." Vincent smiled. "But believe me, he's as dead as you get." He checked his watch. "Right about now Charlie ought to be having some trouble, too."

"You didn't have to do this."

"See what I mean? You don't have the culones for this, Frank. It's all about balls. Big fucking brass balls. I'm beginning to think you got a pussy between your legs."

"Why did you have to kill them? Christ, there must have been a million ways you could've – "

"They were in the way," Vincent said evenly. "Neither one of them was smart enough to just cut loose. They would've tried to fuck with me. After this little display – and you got to admit it's pretty fucking spectacular – nobody's ever gonna fuck with me again."

Frank took a hard pull on his cigarette, exhaled wearily through his nose. "What about the cops? Isn't it gonna look a little strange when two people so closely associated with us wind up dead?"

"Gus and that slut he was hanging out with were into some bad shit. She was a junkie; did you know that? When they find the bodies they'll also find drugs. Just another dope deal gone wrong, Frank."

"And Charlie?"

"It's the strangest thing. He vanished. Happens all the time. Guy gets tired of the old lady, goes down to the corner store for a pack of butts and never comes back." Vincent stretched casually, as if his back was bothering him. "Nobody is ever gonna see Charlie Rain's ugly ass again. By the time they get done spreading what's left of him around, people in every restaurant in New York'll be eating the sonofabitch for dinner." Vincent winked. "Never order red meat out."

"What if the cops don't buy it?"

"The cops Michael pays to look the other way? Those cops?"

Frank leaned back in his chair and crushed his cigarette out in an ashtray on the desk.

"Turano's gone and his federation no longer exists," Vincent said. "I'd say my profits just tripled, wouldn't you? And with Charlie and Gus out of the picture, I should be making some serious coin in no time at all. Now this whole part of the country belongs to me. Hell, I know it's only the independent circuit and the big boys still run the game in all the big-time circles, but a guy has to start somewhere, right?"

"What about Luther?" Frank asked. "He and Charlie were close."

Vincent's eyes narrowed. "Luther's a whore. I'm his new pimp. That simple."

"And me? You gonna kill me too?"

"What am I, some whacked out psycho?" Vincent laughed. "We're friends, for Christ's sake, how could you ask me something like that?" He stood, wandered toward the door. "No, you're just out, Frank. Out of the business. I don't need you. I'm the man now. My brother's money paid for it anyway, right? I sat Benny Dunn down and had a little chat with him. He's a good guy, real trustworthy. I offered him a limited partnership but he decided to bow out. I got no hard feelings toward him. He handles himself like a man. As for you, you got to realize this is strictly a business move on my part, and as far as the business goes, Frank Ponte don't exist no more. You're gone, and if you got any brains left in your head you'll stay that way."

Frank felt his nerves begin to settle. "Not a problem."

"With what you know, I'm giving you a break, Frank, because we got a history and we're friends. I'm banking on you still having some brains left in your fucking head, you with me? You can't prove shit anyway, but still, the safest move was to take you out too, and I didn't. I could've at any time, and as much as I'd hate to do something like that, I still can. Remember that, because if I so much as hear your name again – if you ever decide to play hero and make this a personal thing," Vincent said, "believe me when I tell you that I won't hesitate to protect myself and my business interests with extreme prejudice. Are we clear?"

"We're clear," Frank said. "Only there's one thing I want to make clear too."

Vincent looked at him. "Okay."

"I don't intend to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, Vin. I don't want you near me, or my family, either. So if all of this is just more of your bullshit you better save yourself the time and take me out right here and now."

"Don't sweat it, Frank." Vincent grinned. "If that's how I wanted to play it you'd already be dead."

Frank watched him closely. "It'll be better for both of us if that's true."

"I've had a tough week," Vincent said. "I'm gonna take the rest of the day off, but it's an exciting time for me so I'll be in bright and early tomorrow morning. When I get here, you be gone, okay?"

Frank gave a slow nod.

He stepped through the doorway then quickly looked back at Frank. "Believe it or not, I really am sorry things had to turn out like this. Fucking sucks, but, you know how it goes, man."

"Yeah," Frank said softly. "I know how it goes."

Vincent stuffed the gun back into his jacket and left the office.

Frank opened the blinds, watched Vincent get into his Corvette and speed away, then went to his file cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. His hands still shaking, he managed to pour a glass and drink it down.

He flopped down into his chair and let his eyes wander across the office. It had all happened so fast, it seemed, but had fallen apart even faster.

After two more drinks he picked up the phone and dialed Benny's home number. With his connections in the city the requests Frank planned to make would stand a good chance of being granted. The phone was answered on the third ring.

"Benny?"

"Frank, how are you?"

"Alive. Got a minute?"

"Got lots of them."

"I heard you don't work for Vincent anymore."

"I heard the same thing about you."

"Do you still work for me?"

There was a lengthy pause before he answered. "Depends."

"I've got one more job I need your help with."

"I'm listening."

"I need you to find out whatever you can on an Arthur Bertalia. B-e-r-t-a-l-i-a. I think he's somewhere in Vermont. If he's not, keep looking until you find him. I want a full rundown on him. I want to know how many times he scratches his balls in the morning before he hangs a piss."

"I understand."

Frank gulped the remainder of his drink. "There's more. I need a piece, Ben. Something that can't be traced and works good up close. And see if you can get a hold of a pair of lead gloves. I'm also gonna need a car."

"No problem. When do you need all this?"

"In the morning."

"Jesus, Frank. That's awful soon."

"Can you do it or not?"

Benny sighed into the phone. "I can do it."