“The scenario they’re putting together is that you and Carl had a falling-out, and—”
“Bullshit!”
“Like I said, the scenario they’re putting together—”
“What the fuck’s a scenario?”
“The hypothesis, the story they’re making up.”
“Making it up, all right. Slimy shits!”
“Their hypothesis is that you and Carl had a falling-out, you hired a hit on him through Fat Gus, and then you got nervous and decided to cover your tracks by getting rid of Gus—maybe doing that one yourself.”
“Myself? They think I hammered nails into his head?”
“I’m just telling you what I hear.”
Angelidis sat back in his chair, a shrewd look replacing the anger in his eyes. “This is coming from where?”
“The plan to hang the murder on you?”
“Yeah. This coming from the top of OCTF?”
Something about his tone gave Gurney the idea that Angelidis might have a line to someone inside the task force. Someone who would be aware of the major initiatives.
“Not the way I hear it. I get the impression that the move against you is a little off-center. Unofficial. Couple of guys who’ve got a bug up their ass about you. That ring any bells?”
Angelidis didn’t answer. His jaw muscles tightened. He remained quiet for a long minute. When he spoke, his tone was flat. “You drove up here from Walnuts just to bring me this information?”
“Something else, too. I found out who the hitter was.”
Angelidis became very still.
Gurney watched him carefully. “Petros Panikos.”
Something changed in Angelidis’s eyes. If Gurney had to guess, he’d say the man was trying to conceal a stab of fear. “How do you know this?”
Gurney shook his head and smiled. “Better not to say how I know.”
For the first time since Gurney arrived, Angelidis looked around at the garden and its brick walls, his eyes stopping at the doors that were open to the view of the river and cemetery. “Why are you bringing this to me?”
“I thought you might want to help me.”
“Help you do what?”
“I want to find Panikos. I want to bring him in. To cut a deal, he may be willing to tell us who bought the Spalter hit. Since that wasn’t you, OCTF can go fuck themselves. You’d like that, right?”
Angelidis rested his burly forearms on the table and shook his head.
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem?” Angelidis emitted a short, humorless laugh. “The part about you bringing him in. That don’t happen. Trust me. That don’t happen. You got no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Again Gurney shrugged, turning up his palms. “Maybe I need to know a little more.”
“Maybe a lot more.”
“Tell me what I’m missing.”
“Like what?”
“How does Panikos work?”
“He shoots people. Mostly in the head. Mostly in the right eye. Or he blows them up.”
“How about his contracts? How are they set up?”
“Through a fixer. An arranger.”
“A guy like Fat Gus?”
“Like Fat Gus. Top shelf for Panikos. Only a handful of guys in the world he deals with. They do the transaction. They transfer the payment.”
“He gets his instructions from them?”
“Instructions?” Angelidis let out a guttural laugh. “He takes the name, the deadline, the money. The rest is up to him.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Let’s say you want a certain target whacked. Theoretically. For the sake of argument. You pay Peter Pan’s price. The target gets whacked. End of story. How he gets whacked is Peter’s business. He don’t take instructions.”
“Let me get this straight. The nails in Fat Gus’s head—that wouldn’t have been part of the deal?”
The point seemed to interest Angelidis. “No … that would not have been part of the deal. Not if the hitter was Peter.”
“So that would have been his own initiative, not an order from the client?”
“I’m telling you, he don’t take orders—just names and cash.”
“So the nasty shit he did to Gus—that would have been his idea?”
“You hear me? He don’t take orders.”
“So why would he do what he did?”
“I got no idea. That’s the problem here. Knowing Panikos and Gurikos, it makes no sense.”
“No sense that Panikos would worry that Gurikos might know something damaging? Or that he might talk? Or that he might already have talked?”
“You gotta understand something here. Gus did time—a lot of time. Twelve fucking years in that Attica prison shithole, when he could’ve been out in two. All he had to do was give up a name. But he didn’t. And the guy couldn’t have touched him. There wasn’t gonna be no retribution. So it wasn’t fear. You know what it was?”
Gurney had heard stories like this before, and he knew the punch line. “Principles?”
“You bet your fucking ass, principles! Steel balls!”
Gurney nodded. “Which leaves me wondering—why on earth did Panikos do what he did? None of this hangs together.”
“I told you, it don’t make no sense. Gus was like Switzerland. Quiet. Didn’t talk to nobody about nobody. This was a known and respected fact. Secret of his success. Principles.”
“Okay. Gus was a rock. What about Panikos? What’s he all about?”
“Peter? Peter is … special. Only takes jobs that look impossible. Lot of determination. High success rate.”
“And yet …?”
“Yet what?”
“I’m hearing a reservation in your voice.”
“A reservation?” Angelidis paused before going on with evident care. “Peter … is used only in … in very difficult situations.”
“Why?”
“Because along with his skills … there’s some risks.”
“Like what?”
Angelidis made a face as if he were regurgitating yesterday’s ouzo. “The KGB used to assassinate people by putting radioactive poison in their food. Tremendously effective. But you got to be very, very, careful using that shit. That’s like Peter.”
“Panikos is that scary?”
“Get on his wrong side, could maybe be a problem.”
Gurney thought about that. The notion that getting on the wrong side of a determined, crazy killer could be a problem made him want to laugh out loud. “Did you ever hear that he liked to set fires?”
“I might’ve heard that. Part of the package you’re dealing with. Which I don’t think you really understand.”
“I’ve faced some difficult people over the years.”
“Difficult? That’s pretty funny. Let me tell you a story about Peter—so you know about difficult.” Angelidis leaned forward, extending his palms on the tabletop. “There were these two towns, not far apart. A strong man in each town. This created problems—mainly, who had rights to various things between the two towns. As the towns got bigger, closer together, the problems got bigger. Lot of shit happened. Escalation.” He articulated the word carefully. “Escalation, back and forth. Finally, there is no possibility of peace. No possibility of agreement. So one of these men decides that the other one has to go. He decides to hire little Peter to take care of it. Peter at that time is just getting into the business.”