Deadly Assets (Badge of Honor 12)
Page 128
“Yeah, but every year. I’ve got a mission to build.”
A quarter mil a year! Badde thought.
You greedy bastard!
Badde rapidly went over his options—and just as rapidly kept coming back to the series of events he envisioned if Willie Lane followed Carlucci’s lead and stripped him of his council committee seats.
Badde suddenly had a mental image of a fat brush dripping white paint being slapped across his name on all the Philadelphia Housing and Urban Development construction signs he had erected around the city.
And then one of an orange jumpsuit with CURRAN-FROMHOLD stenciled on the back.
“Look,” Lenny said, breaking the long silence, “you think it over good, Rapp. Okay? I’ll get back to you. I’ve gotta work on this next rally.”
“What next rally, Lenny? The Turkey Day . . . ?” Badde began, but realized that he was talking to dead air.
r /> “Damn it!” Badde then shouted, angrily closing his flip phone.
“You want to calm down, Rapp,” Janelle Harper said, “and tell me what he said? A quarter million for what?”
Badde, his face furious, inhaled deeply, then exhaled audibly. Jan saw that he clearly was trying to control his temper.
“Once you give the bastards an inch,” Badde said, “they want to be inside the tent.”
“That’s ‘Give them an inch, they take a foot’ and ‘Once the camel’s nose is under the tent, next his whole body is inside.’ You’re mixing metaphors.”
“Same fucking difference!” he snapped.
“Good Lord, Rapp. Try to leave the street talk in the street,” Janelle said, her tone icy. “Show some dignity.”
“Oh,” Badde said, thicky sarcastic. “So now you’re better than that, better than me. An ol’ Uncle Tom in designer clothes?”
Badde recognized the subtle angry look that suddenly swept across Janelle’s face—Wanda always makes that same look—you’ve hurt my feelings but I’m not going to let you know it—when she’s really pissed off—and immediately knew he again had gone over the line.
Badde’s flip phone vibrated and he saw that there was a new text from Lenny: “Forgot to say we’re having Feed Philly Day as planned, so still need that check for the food. That will be the sign to my followers that we are moving forward despite being targeted by the police. Going to promote it at the new rally *MarchForRevCross.”
He showed that to Janelle, who used her phone to view it on the Internet.
“‘Beat Down The Man’?” Jan said, making a face. “That sounds like a lot more of Lenny’s population control conspiracy theory. That’s not going to be helpful, Rapp. And by that I mean not helpful for you.”
She stood, collected her bag, and walked to the front of the aircraft, where the main door was opening.
Watching as she deplaned, Badde thought: Damn it! And I forgot to ask Lenny about that damn rapper who ripped off the jewelry store. That guy hunting him said, “Remember, Rapp, Urban Venture LLC has ownership in the casino, too. We need him so that we can get back the jewelry.”
Badde texted Lenny: “Okay, you’ll like the next project. We need to start working out the details of your ‘pie piece’ so we can get this behind us. Name a time today and a place. And I’ll bring the turkey check.”
[ FIVE ]
Rittenhouse Square
Center City, Philadelphia
Sunday, December 16, 8:20 A.M.
Despite the fact that his apartment was in complete disarray, with half-packed moving boxes cluttering every corner, Matt Payne opted for Tony Harris to drop him off in Center City so that he could get his shower and change of clothes there.
While Payne had more or less already moved into Amanda Law’s luxury penthouse condominum in Northern Liberties, going there would have meant him being very careful not to wake her—she had only a couple hours earlier texted him that she’d just returned from some emergency at the hospital.
To Payne, it simply did not seem possible that he could get in the one-bedroom condo, get past Luna without the dog greeting him with happy whines and her tail thumping on the wall, get in and out of the shower, then dig clean clothes out of the closet, and finally get back past Luna and out of the condo—all without making a sound, or sounds, that would disturb Amanda’s rest.