The Weight Part 7

You take a homicide fall, anyone you ever worked with is going to wonder how you'll stand up. Specially if you're looking at the needle.

Your partners wonder too much, you lose again. Someone you never heard of puts up your bail, that tells you you're on the spot. Sure, you can refuse the bail; stay right where you are. But where you are, there's no place to hide.

"Maybe," Solly said.

"You got his for-real name?"

"You think I'm stupid? I had that, I could find out what I need in an hour. I got a a name, just like you did." name, just like you did."

"The guy who sent him to you ...?"

"Gone. Not even two weeks ago, you believe that? Albie had a b.u.m ticker. The fat f.u.c.k's idea of exercise was chewing."

"So ...?"

"So-Albie, I trusted. Known him for more years than you've been alive. Jessop...Ah, I'm getting too old for this stuff. I never even asked Albie for his vitals, just his credentials, you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah."

"I don't like loose strings, Sugar."

"What're you saying?"

"I...I don't know. There's guys in this business, n.o.body ever works for them twice. That's not me. Who's got a more solid rep? You don't get that for nothing. It's like everything else-you pay for it. I make my payments on the installment plan, understand?"

"No. Solly, if-"

"Look, kid. All I'm saying is, I always play it careful careful, okay? Careful, that's not something you are; it's something you do do. Every job, every time. That's how come I'm...trusted, okay?"

"Sure. But I already-"

"Will you f.u.c.king let me talk? talk? Just listen, for a d.a.m.n minute. I got no reason to think this Jessop is...a problem. But I don't like not knowing where to find him." Just listen, for a d.a.m.n minute. I got no reason to think this Jessop is...a problem. But I don't like not knowing where to find him."

"If he knew your pal, he's in the business. How hard could it be?"

"What, you think we're like some fraternity or something? Get together once a year, tell stories about the good old days? I know a few people, sure. But every phone call, that's somebody else else I owe. Besides, this ain't phone work, understand?" I owe. Besides, this ain't phone work, understand?"

"Yeah. What I don't understand is why you're telling me all this. Tell Big Matt-he's the one with something to lose."

"He's out, Sugar."

"Somebody took him-"

"No," he cut me off. "The opposite. He's gone total Square John. Married, kid on the way."

"How could he just ...?" I couldn't finish the sentence; I didn't know what words to use.

"Oh, he told me in front," Solly said. "That last job, it was gonna be his his last job, no matter what. We score, he's got enough to get a house, all the stuff you need to go straight. That's what he said. I remember it real clear. 'When this is over, so am I. No more stealing diamonds for me; I'm going to be buying them. Buying last job, no matter what. We score, he's got enough to get a house, all the stuff you need to go straight. That's what he said. I remember it real clear. 'When this is over, so am I. No more stealing diamonds for me; I'm going to be buying them. Buying one one, anyway.' His girl, she's not in The Life. Didn't have a clue what Big Matt did for a living. His real living, I mean."

"What did she think he-?"

"He buys houses. Real wrecks. Somewhere way out west, where you can buy them for next to nothing. Then he fixes them up and sells them. Lives in the house while he's doing the repairs."

"Pretty smart."

"It is," Solly said. "Big Matt, he's a thinker."

Meaning, I'm not, I thought, but I kept that to myself. Just sat and waited.

"Prices have gone through the f.u.c.king roof since you've been away, Sugar. Actually, more of a spike. So the co-ops are down from what they were asking a few years ago, but rentals, they never never go back. You'd be lucky to find a decent apartment for under two grand. And that wouldn't even be the city-probably have to go out to Brooklyn or something." go back. You'd be lucky to find a decent apartment for under two grand. And that wouldn't even be the city-probably have to go out to Brooklyn or something."

"I'm not broke," I reminded him.

"No, you're not. But you're going to have to go back to work sooner or later."

"Sure."

"Aah!" he said, like he was throwing the word out of the room. "If Albie said this Jessop was stand-up, that should be good enough for me, right?"

"I didn't know him."

"It's...it's a respect thing, Sugar. I can't just go out and cut my losses. I got no feeling from this guy. Nothing. Probably solid as a stone. But..."

I kept quiet. Still couldn't figure out what all this blah-blah was about. Solly was a talker, I knew. I mean, he liked liked talking. I guess there weren't too many people he could talk to anymore. talking. I guess there weren't too many people he could talk to anymore.

"How about if you nose around a little? Find the guy, talk to him, see if he's righteous?"

"What do I care? You said it yourself-I'm in the clear. Even if he walked into a police station somewhere and started running his mouth, how's that my problem?"

"I got a responsibility."

"To who? Everyone who sits in takes their chances; that's the way it is."

"I got a responsibility to Albie Albie, okay?" The old man was really getting worked up; I never heard him sound angry, like that. "I can't just...you know. It'd be like one of those preemptive strikes. Tap the guy, and we can all rest easy. But that wouldn't be fair to Albie. It'd be like I didn't trust his judgment.

"That happens, you know. Man gets old, he should get respect. Not for being old, but for the wisdom wisdom he has. Albie wasn't soft in the head. Not f.u.c.king he has. Albie wasn't soft in the head. Not f.u.c.king senile senile, okay? He still had it up here," Solly said, tapping his temple.

"That's good enough for me."

"For you, sure. For me, it can't be. A man gets old, he wants to leave a will, make sure he takes care of everyone who he should be taking care of. But you know what n.o.body should ever leave, Sugar? Loose threads, that's what."

"I'm not going around playing private eye, Solly."

"I wasn't asking for a favor."

"What? You want to pay pay me, to do this thing?" me, to do this thing?"

"Absolutely."

"Solly, I'm not exactly broke. I don't live big. It could be a real long time before I have to make another move. Anyway, you know I'm not a contract man."

"You got a car?"

"Where would I get a car?"

"You could've rented one, maybe."

"With what? My credit card?"

"Never mind. I got you a car. You'll love it. Papered to the max, full-cover insurance and all. Let's go and get your money."

"Solly..."

"What?"

"I got to get a place. Some clothes. Set up right, before I do anything. I can't walk around with a duffel bag stuffed with cash. What's your d.a.m.n problem? I held up my end, didn't I?"

"Sure. Sure, you did, Sugar. You went first; now it's my turn. And that's-what?-finding you a place to stay, fixing you up with ID, all that?"

"It always has has been," I said, letting him hear I didn't like what he was talking about. been," I said, letting him hear I didn't like what he was talking about.

"And, like I told you before, things have changed since you been away."

"I did five f.u.c.king years alone. Like I'm supposed to. That That didn't change." didn't change."

He nodded his head slowly, like a bunch of thoughts were bouncing around inside. "You're right, kid. Come on. Let's take that ride."

I followed him through the back exit. We walked down a cement hall. At least it looked like cement-the only light was Solly's flash, and he just sprayed it around a little. I guess he did that for me-no way Solly needed it after all these years.

We came to another door. When I followed Solly through it, I saw he had a lot of choices from there: take the stairs to his right, walk straight out the front door, or open another door.

He played the flash over that other door. "This one, it only opens from the inside. It's about a foot or so drop from there. Not so much, but you could break your ankle, you're not expecting it."

The old man jumped down. I followed him. The door closed itself behind us. Solly lit it up for a second-it looked like part of the wall. I knew he wasn't bragging, just showing me he still had things under control.

The alley wasn't even wide enough to get a car through, so it was pretty clean. No Dumpsters, so no homeless guys camped out waiting for a refill. And no rats to fight them for the kind of garbage you can eat.

At the end of the alley, there was this high chain-link gate. It wouldn't keep anyone out if they wanted to climb, but who does that just to go dice-rolling on a blanket?

Not a good shortcut, either.

Solly opened the lock with a key he had. He pointed a finger at the place where the wall ended, just inside the gate. I looked where he was pointing. I couldn't see anything for a few seconds. Then there was a long, thin flash of light. When it went away, I could see what Solly meant: slivers of mirror gla.s.s up there, set at an angle. If you looked at the left one, you could see what was coming up the sidewalk on the right. Same for the other side.

"You watch this one," he said.

When we each had a "clear," I went out first. I walked to my right. Not fast, but not so slow you'd notice. Solly caught up to me before we got to the corner.

We just walked along, side by side. It probably looked like we both knew where we were going, but only Solly did.

A few blocks from Solly's dump, there was this cla.s.sy-looking high-rise, all gla.s.s and chrome. That's how this city is. There's no such thing as neighborhoods, like you have in Brooklyn or Queens. In Manhattan, you could have ten-million-dollar houses on one block and crumbling old slums on the next. It's split up so tight that they've even got special names for every few blocks.

I don't think any of that c.r.a.p really sticks. Guys who came up in h.e.l.l's Kitchen would be, I don't know, proud of it, I guess. There was this Irish guy I used to know, Ken. "Catch me telling folks I was born in f.u.c.king 'Clinton,'" I heard him say one time.

On the rich blocks, there wouldn't be any alleys-the buildings are stacked together so tight not even light could shine through. But on the other blocks, they have backyards. Little ones, sure. And all fenced off and everything. But you could still go through a whole block without stepping on the sidewalk if you had to.

Solly walked right in the front door. There was a guy at a curved desk made out of some kind of dark marble. He was wearing a blue jacket with "WynterGreene" embroidered in gold letters on the pocket over his heart.

"Mr. Vizner," he said, smiling.

"Anthony, meet my nephew. Jerome, this is Anthony. He's in charge of making sure everything around here works the way it's supposed to."

The guy in the jacket got a little red in the face, Solly giving him a compliment like that.

"I'm pleased to meet you," I said, holding out my hand.

The guy in the jacket seemed a little confused, but he finally shook hands with me.

"Gets those manners from his mother," Solly said, like I'd done something weird.

We walked over to the elevator cars. Three of them were already standing open. Solly made a move with his hand. I got in; he was right behind me.

"This time of night, you want an attended car, you have to signal for one," he said.

The car stopped on 13. I followed Solly out. We walked on a thick dark carpet until we got to a door with "13F" on a little panel next to it. Solly opened the door with a key.

Inside, it was like a showroom, all brand-new stuff.

"Have a seat," Solly told me.

I found a chair-I guess it was a chair, because it was only big enough for one person. Solly sat on this little couch-thing.

"Solomon Vizner, that's me. They know I travel a lot. I tip good. Always pay the maintenance on time; they take it right out of my bank account."

"What's maintenance?"

"To keep the place up. The concierge-the guy at the front desk. The guy who shovels the sidewalk, the guy who takes out the garbage, the guy who vacuums the hallways...there's the taxes, too. Naturally. And if something breaks, they have to fix it."

"The landlord-"

"I'm the landlord, Sugar. Kind of, anyway. See, I own this unit. That's what they call them in this place, units."

"d.a.m.n."

"Yeah, it's a pretty good place. I got in when it first opened, almost fifteen years ago. Could've sold it for double that a little while back. Now...it's still worth more than I paid, but that ride's probably over. Not that I care-I got no reason to sell."

"But you don't really live here?"