“You have news to report, Mr. Kramer?” Mario asked.
“Yeah. Matter of fact, I do.” Kramer was a thin man—quick, wiry, elusive. Like a snake. His most prominent feature was a long ugly scar that stretched down the left side of his face. “The job was completed accordin’ to plan.”
“Can you provide a few more details?”
“You really wanna know?”
Mario considered for a moment. “No. I suppose it’s best if I don’t.” It didn’t matter how much he worked with Kramer; the man made his skin crawl. Always had, always would. He was so much more than just an enforcer; he was capable of planning, equipping, staffing, and executing an entire operation, from start to finish, no matter how complex or clandestine. He was effective and efficient—he always got the job done. He was creative and innovative—he didn’t have to be led by the hand. He had connections everywhere—the press, the police, the government. He could obtain valuable information or plant false information anywhere he wanted. He had countless assistants, all of them willing to do anything, go anywhere.
But he was also a sadist. Most hit men fell into their jobs because there was nothing else they were capable of doing. Not so Kramer. He was in this line of work because he enjoyed it. He was a sociopath who derived inordinate pleasure from cruelty to other people. And his fondness for fire was legendary. Just thinking about it was enough to make Mario grind out his cigarette. Life was safest when Kramer had no access to anything burning, no matter how small.
Donny leaned off the edge of the sofa. His voice was high-pitched and tended to squeal. “Has anyone noticed he’s missing yet?”
“Oh yeah,” Kramer said. “But they don’t know what happened to him.”
“Then he hasn’t been found. Officially,” Mario said.
“No. Not yet. But he will be. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. That was the plan.”
“You know how stupid cops are,” Donny said. “Maybe we should do something to help them along. Leave them a clue, maybe.”
By silent agreement, Mario and Kramer jointly ignored Donny. Donny simply had no brains, Mario reflected, not for the first time. Mario loved his sister, but there was no hope for her pitiful progeny.
“I’m glad you put out your cigarette, Uncle Mario. Those cancer-sticks’ll kill you. If they haven’t already. And I could get lung diseases from the secondhand smoke.” Donny coughed. “See? I’m sick already.”
“I appreciate your concern, Donny,” Mario said slowly. He thought about that for a moment. “In fact, I don’t appreciate your concern, Donny. You’re a fucking pain in the ass. So sit quietly and speak when you’re spoken to.”
Donny lowered his head. “Yes, sir.”
Just to rub salt in the wound, Kramer snatched a cigarette from Mario’s desk case and flicked his lighter. The flame flared out; Kramer’s eyes glowed. Eventually, he lit his cigarette.
Mario suppressed a shiver. If Kramer loved anything, it was the red flame that danced before his eyes. “Word is Seacrest will be replaced by some guy named Travis Byrne,” Kramer said, breaking out of his trance.
“What do we know about Mr. Byrne?”
“Not much yet. He’s a decent attorney—young, but effective. Gets people off. More than that I don’t know yet. But I’m workin’ on it.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah. He’s an ex-cop.”
Mario stroked his chin. “That could present a problem. We don’t need some law-and-order fanatic on the case. Find out everything you can about him.”
“Like I said, I’m workin’ on it. I also thought we might try to consider some means of controllin’ Mr. Byrne. Maybe screw up his squeaky-clean rep.”
“Do you think that’s necessary at this time?”
“Nah. But if the time comes, it’ll be best if we’ve already stockpiled our ammo.”
“So what did you have in mind?”
Kramer shrugged. “The usual. Unexpected guests. Candid cameras. A few sensational stories that can be leaked to the press on a moment’s notice.”
Mario waved his hand in the air. “Whatever you think. I leave it to you. It also might not be a bad idea for some sort of … incident to occur to Mr. Byrne. Just so he knows where he stands.”
“Incident?”
“Something subtle. But not too.”
Kramer grinned, obviously relishing the suggestion. “I can handle that.”
“You might involve Donny in this,” Mario said hesitantly. “He needs … experience.”
Kramer’s displeasure was evident. “I have my own men who—”
“That’s not the point.” Mario drummed his fingers lightly on his desk. “This is a family venture. It’s best if a member of the family is along for the ride. Just send Donny with someone capable of providing the necessary … guidance. I would consider it a personal favor.”
Kramer frowned. “You’re the boss. Anything else?”
“Has Moroconi said anything? About us, I mean.”
“Not yet. But we can’t rule out the possibility. Especially if he becomes desperate.”
“We’ll play it by ear. The risk seems slight. A dumb ex-cop plodding in at the last second—how much could he learn?”
“That all depends. Seacrest learned too much.”
Mario nodded. It was an unpleasant, but nonetheless accurate, reminder. “Watch Byrne carefully. If you see anything that gives you cause for alarm, act without hesitation. If he gets too close, eliminate him. Just like you eliminated Seacrest. Understood?”
“Understood.” Smiling, Kramer headed toward the door. On his way out, he pulled one of Donny’s suspenders and popped it against his chest. Just for the hell of it.
7
9:00 P.M.
TRAVIS FOUND STACI AT the lighted, outdoor basketball court behind John Neely Bryan Junior High School playing a little two-on-one. A pair of black teenage boys were the two; she was the one.
“Travis!” As soon as she saw him, she tossed the ball to one of her friends, who was at least a foot taller than she was. She ran to meet Travis at his car. “I thought you weren’t coming!”
“I was delayed. Sorry. Big new trial.”
“Another trial? You just finished one.”
“I know. Popular, aren’t I?”
“You never spend any time with me anymore.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You know what I mean.” She sat down on the curb, her fists under her chin.
Travis sat beside her. “What’s wrong, Staci? Trouble at home?”
“Oh, just the usual. Nobody likes me.”
“That’s not true, Staci. Your aunt Marnie is crazy about you.”
“Aunt Marnie was crazy about my mother. She puts up with me ’cause she thinks she has to.”
“That isn’t—” He stopped short. No point in offering superficial denials. Staci knew the score. “Look, how’s school going?”
“Oh, same old same old.”
“Yo, Staci!” It was one of her two friends on the basketball court. “Let’s go!”
“You guys play without me for a while,” Staci shouted back. “I’m okay.” She smiled. “They’re worried ’cause you’re some big old white guy they don’t know. You must look like a suspicious character. Maybe they sense that you used to be a cop. Doc and Jameel aren’t too keen on cops.”
“Any reason in particular?”
“Well … they’ve been arrested twice for breaking and entering.”
“That’ll do it.” He watched Doc effortlessly toss the basketball into the hoop from half-court. “Well, I’m glad you’ve made some friends.”
“Yeah, Doc and Jameel are okay. They just like me ’cause I’m good on the court. But that’s okay. They’re way cool.”
“Kind of late for basketball, isn’t it?”
Staci shrugged. “Gotta stay in practice.”