"Freddy drove me partway today. I told him I was worried there was a cop after me and we ducked into the garage at Grand Central Center, the mall. I took a cab the rest of the way."
"Cop?"
"No, no, I made it up. I just wanted Freddy to cool his heels." Nick'd had an idea this was how it was going to shake out.
Perone said softly, "We can take care of that." He made a call. A moment later Ralph, of the solid chest and flamboyant suspenders and icy glare, was back.
"Nick Carelli, Ralph Seville."
A moment of mano eye lock, then hands were shaken.
"Got a job for you," Perone said.
"Sure, sir."
Nick pulled out his phone, slipped the battery in, turned it back on. He texted Freddy; he didn't want to hear the man's voice.
On way back. Any sign of Kall?
There wouldn't be, of course.
Nope.
Nick typed and sent:
Where R U?
The reply was:
Purple level near Forever 21 door.
Nick's next message was:
C U in 15.
From Freddy:
All good?
Nick hesitated then typed.
Gr8
Nick gave Ralph the information about Freddy's location. "He's in a black Escalade." He then cut a glance toward Perone. "No buried-alive shit. Fast, painless."
"Sure. I don't need to send messages. This is just loose ends."
"And I don't want him to know it was me."
Ralph gave a grimace. "I'll do what I can. But."
"Just try. The phone's got my texts. And my prints're in his SUV."
"We'll take care of everything." Ralph nodded. And left the office. Nick caught sight of a large, nickel-plated automatic pistol in his waistband. Thinking one of those bullets would be in his friend's brain in a half hour.
Nick rose and he and Perone shook hands. "I'll get a cab back to the city."
"Nick?"