“Yes.”
“He is willing to conclude negotiations with you, provided he may remain incognito.”
“Granted,” Nanny said.
“Also, he would like the money tonight.”
“What time tonight?”
“I thought he could drive to Larchmont as soon as it gets dark. He is wearing a nylon stocking over his head, you see, and he don’t want to attract no attention from passer-bys.”
“I understand. What time will he get here?”
“Eight, eight-thirty. Will you have the money by then?”
“I have the money already,” Nanny said.
“Fine. Then there’s no problem,” Snitch said.
“None whatever. I shall look forward to seeing your friend later tonight.”
“Nanny, he ain’t no friend of mine,” Snitch said. “Please remember that. If this ever should come to Ganooch’s attention, I want it understood that I’m only doing this out of respect for him. I never saw this guy before in my life, and as I told you he’ll be wearing a stocking over his face, so I never will get to know who he is.”
“I understand.”
“There’s nothing in this for me, Nanny. I’m just doing a favor for a man I happen to love and admire, Carmine Ganucci.”
“I’m sure Mr. Ganucci will one day express his appreciation,” Nanny said. “In any event, I’ll be waiting for your friend’s arrival.”
“Eight, eight-thirty,” Snitch said.
“Is the boy safe?” Nanny asked.
“Well, would you like to talk to this certain party himself? He’s right here with me.”
“Yes, I would.”
“He’s wearing his stocking right this minute,” Snitch said, “so he may be a little difficult to understand.”
“Put him on,” Nanny said.
“Hello?” the voice said.
“Is this the certain party to whom we were referring earlier?” Nanny asked.
“Right,” the voice said.
“As I understand it, you’ll be here at eight, eight-thirty.”
“Right.”
“Is the boy safe?”
“Yes.”
“Will he be returned as soon as we complete our negotiations?”
“Yes.”
“Then I take it you will have him with you?”
“Right.”
“Hello, Nanny,” Snitch said. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you just asked. You understand, don’t you, that for this certain party’s protection, he’ll probably leave the kid where he is now, until all the business transaction is taken care of. For his own protection, I mean, though I agree with you he’s the scum of the earth.”
“I understand,” Nanny said.
“Good. Well, hasta la vista,” Snitch said, and hung up.
Nonaka was getting very drunk. No one at the table seemed to notice it because they were all getting very drunk too. The bar was on Ninety-sixth Street and Columbus Avenue, and it was called The Homestead. On the plate-glass window that faced the street, Nonaka read the name of the bar as deatsemoH ehT, which sounded very Japanese to him. Everything sounded very Japanese to him right now. Even Benny Napkins sounded Japanese.
“The dilemma here is a moral dilemma,” Benny said. “That’s the way I see it.”
“How do you see it?” Dominick said. “Let’s have another drink.”
“Okay,” Benny said. “Bartender,” he said, and raised his hand.
“Japanese people can’t say the letter ‘l.’ Did you know that?” Nonaka said.
“What do you mean?”
“Like dilemma,” Nonaka said. “Japanese people can’t say the word dilemma because there’s an ‘l’ in it.”
“I didn’t know that,” Benny said.
“Name your poison,” the bartender said.
“Another round,” Benny said.
“You guys are getting plastered,” the bartender said.
“There’s another one,” Nonaka said. “Plastered. Impossible for a Japanese to say plastered. Or even polluted.”
“You guys are getting both plastered and polluted,” the bartender said, and walked away.
“The reason it’s a dilemma is that it has twin forks. It’s a twin-forked dilemma,” Benny said.
“What are the two forks?” Dominick asked.
“Twin forks,” Benny said, “twin forks. Fifty thousand dollars a fork. Twins.”
“Dollars, there’s another one,” Nonaka said.
“Do you know how much money I have in my possession?” Benny asked.
“How much?” Dominick said.
“A hundred thousand dollars,” Benny said.
“Dollars,” Nonaka said, shaking his head. “Impossible to say.
“That’s a lot of money,” Dominick said. “Do you know the most money I ever seen in my life?”
“What?” Benny said.
“In a single bill, I mean?”
“Bill, there’s another one.”
“How much?”
“A thousand dollars,” Dominick said. “Do you know who’s on the thousand-dollar bill?”
“Who?” Benny said.
“Grover Cleveland.”
“Cleveland, impossible,” Nonaka said. “The whole language is full of l’s.”
“You know who used to be on the thousand-dollar bill?”
“Who?”
“Alexander Hamilton.”
“Do you know how a Japanese would say Alexander Hamilton?” Nonaka asked.
“How?”
“Arexander Hamirton.” He blinked his eyes.
“Why would he say that?” Dominick asked.
“I don’t know,” Nonaka said, and shrugged.
“Well, we all have our little problems,” Dominick said.
“Look at all the goddamn l’s,” Nonaka said.
Benny looked, but he didn’t see anything. Besides, he had his own little problem. His problem was a simple one: if they didn’t find the kid someplace in that building, what should he do? Should he give Nanny one of the fifty-thousand-dollar bundles and take the other one to Naples as instructed? Or should he keep one of the fifty-thousand-dollar bundles for himself and the hell with Ganucci, the hell with everybody, just grab Jeanette Kay Pezza and take her to Honolulu and lay on the sand with his head on her nice big tits? The problem with life was that it was full of problems, especially if a hundred thousand dollars was burning a hole in your pocket.
“Boy,” he said.
“You said it,” Dominick said.
“Me too,” Nonaka said.
The bartender brought another round. The men sat drinking silently. Through the plate-glass window, Benny could see men in business suits coming out of the subway kiosk to wend their way homeward in the early evening hours, home to wife and loved ones, home to cooking smells, home to a weekend of fun and frivolity after five long days of hard work in offices hither and yon throughout Manhattan. For an insane but fleeting instant, Benny almost wished he was an honest citizen.
At seven o’clock that evening, Luther Patterson dialed Many Maples and asked to talk to Carmine Ganucci.
“Mr. Ganucci is not at home,” Nanny said. “He is in Italy.”
“Oh, the old Italy gag again, huh?” Luther said.
“Who is this?” Nanny asked.
“The kidnaper,” Luther said.
“This is not the kidnaper,” Nanny said.
“Are you trying to tell me what I am?” Luther said. “Madam...”
“I spoke to the kidnaper not two hours ago,” Nanny said.
“How could you have spoken to me two hours ago, when two hours ago I was sitting here...?”
“I was put in touch with the kidnaper two hours ago. A trusted friend put me in touch with the kidnaper. I have already arranged a meeting with him. I don’t know who this is...”