Эд Макбейн - Criminal Conversation

“Let me guess what the errand was,” Michael said.

“You’re ahead of me.”

“Dom is the courier who delivers six ounces of cocaine for them...”

“... and innocently walks into a sting we’ve been setting up for weeks. Neither family knew what Dom was walking into, of course, they still don’t know, for that matter. Which is why this is so sweet, huh? Before, he only owed the Faviola loan shark. But now he also has to worry about the Colottis ’cause they went to bat for him. He’s in terror, Michael, believe me,” Jackie said, and grinned. “He’s ready to sell his mother.”

“You done good,” Michael said, and returned the grin. “Let’s go get him.”

There was neither a video camera nor a tape recorder in the room, no one taking shorthand, no one scribbling notes, no one watching through a one-way mirror. The conversation would be strictly off the record.

Di Nobili was a bear of a man wearing a sports jacket and gray flannel slacks over a blue turtleneck sweater. Brown loafers. Hair thinning a bit. Clean-shaven. Except for the shiners and the fat lip, he looked to Michael like a suburban husband who’d once played college football. According to Jackie, though, the only athletic activity Di Nobili had ever performed — aside from rumored assaults hither and yon — was bodybuilding during the six years he’d spent at Ossining on a B-felony conviction. His record indicated that he was thirty-nine years old, three years older than Michael. Even if he took the minimum fall on the pending charges, he’d be fifty-four when he got out of jail. He wasn’t worried about jail, though; he was worried about getting killed.

“You understand, don’t you,” Michael said, “that you belong to us?”

“I understand that.”

“We’ll relocate you and keep you safe from these people, but that means you’ll do exactly what we tell you to do. Otherwise, you can roll the dice and take your chances with us in court or them on the street.”

“I want to cooperate here,” Di Nobili said.

“Good. I want you to read this and sign it.”

“What is it?”

“A waiver of arraignment,” Michael said, and handed it to him. The paper read:

I, Dominick Di Nobili, understand that I have been arrested for violation of Section 220.43 of the New York Penal Law [criminal sale of a controlled substance in the first degree].

I have been read my constitutional rights by Detective Second Grade Jacqueline Diaz of the New York City Police Department, and understand those rights.

I have also been informed of my right to a speedy arraignment...

“Nobody informed me of this,” Di Nobili said.

“You’re being informed now,” Michael said.

... my right to a speedy arraignment and understand this right.

Fully aware of my rights, I am desirous of cooperating with the authorities. However, no promises whatsoever have been made to me regarding...

“I thought you said you were gonna relocate me.”

“ If you’re not shitting us,” Jackie said. “If you are shitting us, we’ve still got the flash as evidence, and all bets...”

“The what?”

“The flash money. The twenty-three grand you accepted for the dope.”

“Oh.”

“If you’re shitting us, all bets are off.”

“I’m not shitting you.”

“Fine. Then sign the fuckin’ waiver,” Jackie said.

“I want to read it all first.”

... whatsoever have been made to me regarding my cooperation.

In order to fully cooperate with the authorities, I consent to the delay of my arraignment. I do this knowing that I have the right to be speedily arraigned but desire not to be immediately arraigned because of the impact such arraignment might have on my ability to cooperate.

“What does that mean?” Di Nobili asked.

“It means if we arraign you, they’ll know you were busted.”

“Oh.”

“And you’ll be worthless to us.”

“Oh.”

“So?” Michael said. “You want to sign it?”

“Yeah, okay,” Di Nobili said.

He signed the waiver and dated it. Jackie witnessed it.

“Okay,” Michael said, “where’d you pick up the dope?”

“A butcher shop in Brooklyn.”

“Who gave it to you there?”

“Guy named Artie. I never saw him before in my life. I was supposed to go in and tell him I was Dominick here for the pork chops. He gave me a package wrapped like meat. In like that white paper, you know?”

“Who told you what to say?”

“Sal the Barber. He’s the only one I know in this whole thing.”

“How about Jimmy Angels? You know him too, don’t you?”

“I never met him. He’s my friend’s cousin.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“I want to leave her out of this.”

“Listen,” Jackie said sharply. “Maybe you didn’t understand the man. You want to play golf here or you want to fuck around?”

“Huh?” Di Nobili said.

“Tell him your girlfriend’s name. The man’s deputy chief of the Organized Crime Unit, we’re wasting his fucking time here.”

“Her name is Lucy.”

“Lucy what?”

“Angelli. She’s Jimmy’s cousin.”

“Sal told you where to pick up the stuff, is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“And where to deliver it.”

“Yeah, he gave me the name Anna Garcia, I was supposed to meet her outside this take-out joint in Chinatown.”

“That’s the name I was going by,” Jackie said, and smiled. “I went with another undercover, guy weighs two hundred pounds, case old Dom here decided to hit me on the head and steal the dope.”

“Yeah,” Di Nobili said glumly.

“What else?” Michael asked.

“He said I should expect twenty-three grand in exchange for the coke.”

“Sal did?”

“Yeah.”

“Who were you supposed to deliver the money to?”

“Sal.”

“Where?”

“A restaurant named La Luna.”

“Where’s that?”

“Fifty-Eighth Street.”

“You’ve met him there before?”

“Yeah. To make payments on the loan.”

“What was he charging you?”

“Five points a week.”

“Not exactly Chase Manhattan,” Jackie said.

“When were you supposed to meet him?”

“You mean today?”

“Today, yes.”

“Right after it went down.”

“That was six o’clock,” Jackie said. “That makes you a little late, Dom.”

“Yeah, it makes me a little late,” Di Nobili said, and started looking very worried again.

“I want you to call him,” Michael said. “Have you got a number for him?”

“Yeah.”

Michael went to a file cabinet across the room, opened a drawer, and took from it a wrapped telephone pickup the tech unit had bought at Radio Shack. Attaching the suction cup to the earpiece of his phone, he said, “This is what I want you to say to him. Tell him everything went down the way it was supposed to, but you had a flat tire, and you had to have it fixed, which the garage just finished doing. You got that so far?”

“No, I’m a fucking moron,” Di Nobili said.

Michael looked at him.

“Mister,” he said, “you want me to go home, is that it?”

“I’m sorry,” Di Nobili said.

“Just keep on being an asshole,” Michael said, “and I’m out of here in a minute. Capeesh?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Good,” he said, and plugged the cable into his taping and monitoring deck. “If he asks you what took so long to get a flat fixed, you tell him it’s the holidays and the weather is bad.”

“Will he buy that?” Jackie asked.

“I think so,” Di Nobili said.