“You what?”
“I took their picture with my camera.”
“Did they see you do it?”
“Of course. My camera has a flash.”
“Holy shit, are they still there?”
“Hold on, please, I’ll see.” Gaetano let the receiver fall, then stepped into the dining room again. The two men had vanished. He ran back to the phone. “They are gone!” he screamed.
“No fucking kidding!” his boss yelled. “Go after them; don’t let them out of your sight! We’re on the way!”
Gaetano hung up the phone and sprinted for the street. He ran out the door, nearly knocking down two customers, and looked left and right. Nothing, nothing but traffic. He ran to the corner of 6th Avenue and looked up and down. Still nothing. He ran back to 5th Avenue. Still nothing. His heart sank. Not only was he not going to get the five hund
red dollars, he was, as his boss liked to say, going to get his ass kicked.
Tommy and Charlie Bruce burst out of the Mansfield Hotel less than a minute after the waiter had disappeared back into his restaurant and dove into a cab.
“What now?” Charlie asked.
“We’ve got to find a hole long enough to get the computer out of storage and get off one more issue of DIRT. That’s all it’s going to take; the groundwork has been done.”
“But where? I don’t want anybody else taking pictures of us.”
“I know just the place,” Tommy said. “It belongs to a friend who’s not using it at the moment.” He gave the driver an address, then sat back in the seat. “Just one more issue,” he said, “delivered to just one customer.”
Chapter 53
Stone looked up at the resident, who was stitching the cut above his eye. “Where’s the cop who was with me when I came in?” he asked.
“He’s out in the hall.”
“Could somebody ask him to come in, please?”
“You just lie quietly, and let me do my work; you can talk to him later.”
“It’s very important.”
“Shut up.”
“Are you going to call the cop in here, or am I going to have to do it myself?”
“Oh, all right. Nurse, will you get the cop in here, please?”
“Thank you.”
“Will you please shut up? We’re getting tired of seeing you in here, you know. What was it last time, a concussion?”
“Careful how you talk to me; I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
The cop walked in. “Somebody ask for me?”
“I did,” Stone said. “Will you call Lieutenant Bacchetti at the Nineteenth and tell him I’m here, please?”
“Sure thing.” The cop left.
“See how easy that was?” Stone said to the resident.