detective carefully, wondering what he was thinking, what was coming next. Neil had always been full of surprises. He hoped this really was going to be the last drink. He was itching to get away, leave this crummy bar, cab it uptown, shed his cop’s skin, relax for the weekend, make like a normal human being for once. Life was hard, and his job was tough, more than tough, it was a ball-breaker. She was the one bit of sunlight and joy and happiness he had. He hated to keep her waiting, to be late like this, and he always endeavoured to be on time. She worried when he wasn’t, her heart in her mouth, thinking he’d bought it at the hands of the criminals he stalked.
A few weeks ago she had talked about breaking it off with him, mostly because her fear for him was difficult to live with. He hadn’t said much in response to this announcement, but, surprising himself, inside he had felt a sudden surge of unfamiliar panic. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she left him, what he’d do without her…
Neil broke the silence between them. He said, ‘Maybe you should put it out on the street that you’re taking off, goin’ on a trip, gonna be outta town, then do a genuine disappearing act from your neck of the woods. It’d be wiser, I think, Kev.’
‘You’re right. I’m not working on anything special. I just made a big bust, did it with Joe Harvey. Listen, I’ll tell Eddie I’d like a week off before I move over to your division. To be honest, Neil, I could use a break.’
Take it now. You’re gonna be awful busy with my unit. I told you, we’re hard pressed, we need you, and we’re sure as hell gonna make use of you, twenty-four hours a day, if necessary.’
Kevin nodded his understanding. ‘And let’s just hope we can strike some real blows at the Rudolfos, cripple them once and for all. The Mafia have never been as exposed as they are right now. The Colombo family is in a shambles and falling apart, and the Gambinos are in big trouble. It looks like the Dapper Don’s number-two guy is going to be singing quite a few big hits at Gotti’s murder and racketeering trial.’
Neil began to chuckle. ‘You got it, kid. John Gotti, wearing his two-thousand-dollar suits, is in deep doo-doo. Sammy “The Bull” Gravano is a star witness for the prosecution, and there’s never been one like him. Think about it, Kevin, a sacred brotherhood consecrated in blood and celebrated with wine has been broken by a little piece of tape – a police recording of a highly incriminating conversation between mobsters.’ His grin was huge. ‘Gotti’s gonna be in the can for years, and I do mean years. And years and years.’
‘The underworld is reeling from that defection – not to mention the prosecution.’
‘You don’t have to tell me! My unit’s been part of it all along. Look, Gravano’s co-operation is the highest-ranking Mafia defection ever, especially given the Gambinos’ stature as the largest of the Mafia families and Gravano’s position in it as Gotti’s right-hand guy.’ Neil shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘And it’s really been surprising to me that he broke the oath of omertà…the oath of silence is taken very seriously by all Mafiosi. But Gravano sure as hell did it, he ratted on his goombah, his best buddy. Surprising, eh?’
Not waiting for any comment from Kevin, Neil hurried on, ‘After all, they started out together, Gravano and Gotti, were street soldiers together, just a coupla wiseguys packing heat who made it, unbelievably, to capi.’ Neil shrugged. ‘But Gravano wanted to save his hide, so he said to hell with the sacred brotherhood and omertà and my good old goombah Johnny boy, and he sang like a canary.’
Kevin nodded. ‘And Gotti’s upcoming trial in Brooklyn is going to be some spectacle, mark my words.’ Kevin glanced at his watch. ‘Hell, Neil, it’s later than I realized! I’ve got to be going.’
‘Me too. My old lady’s waiting for me. Our first Saturday night out in months and I’m late. She’ll kill me.’
They grabbed their coats and left the bar.
EIGHT
Out on the sidewalk, the two detectives stood talking for a moment or two, and then Neil took hold of Kevin’s arm. ‘Come on, kid, I’ll walk you down the block to Houston. You can grab a cab there. Your uptown girl won’t be mad at you, will she?’
Kevin shook his head as he fell into step with Neil. ‘No, she’s used to me showing up hours late. She doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t take it out on me. Anyway, she’ll be pleased, no relieved, when I tell her I’m moving to the Crime Intelligence Division.’
Neil threw him an odd look. ‘But it’s still dangerous work.’
‘You know that, Neil. I know it. But she doesn’t. And neither does my sister Rosie. Lately, they’ve both been on my back, wanting me to make a change, so I’m damn sure they’ll be happy to hear that I have. Crime Intelligence Division does sound like a desk job, doesn’t it?’
‘It could mean anything…I guess.’
Shivering, Kevin shrugged deeper into his overcoat, pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘Shit, it’s freezing tonight, and there’s never a cab around when you need one.’
That’s what they usually say about cops,’ Neil remarked, and let out a hollow laugh.
‘Why the hell did you have to pick a crummy bar all the way downtown? On the Bowery, for God’s sake!’
‘Because it’s as far removed from Little Colombia as I could get without goin’ to New Jersey,’ Neil explained, making reference to the Elmhurst section of Queens, where Kevin operated most of the time.
‘I can’t say I’m sorry to be saying goodbye to that neighbourhood,’ Kevin confided as they strode on down the street. ‘And thank God I’ll never have to darken the doors of Mesón Asturias again. I’ve grown to detest the place. And to think, thirty years ago that little cantina was a typical Irish neighbourhood bar, full of cheerful Micks downing boilermakers and telling tall tales about the ould sod. But the Irish fled long ago, moved over to Woodside like we did a few years before Mom died, and Roosevelt Avenue has become a little Colombia, and then some, when you really think about it. A jazzy strip where hundred-dollar bills are the normal currency and flashy suits and salsa clubs flourish.’
‘And where shootings are as common as they are in Cali, Medellín and Bogotá,’ Neil remarked, ‘as if you didn’t know that.’ He sighed under his breath. ‘It boggles the mind, Kev, New York is a city gone mad on guns and made even crazier by crack.’
‘You and me, Neil, we’re living in the belly of the beast. We see it all, and every day of the week…the homeless, the hungry, the desperate, as well as the demented, the junkies, the crazies, the criminals. And we know the score. The majority of folk don’t see it, or don’t want to see it, or turn a blind eye if they do. Tragic, but that’s the way it is, I’m afraid.’
Neil stopped in his tracks, swung to Kevin, grabbed his arm. In the lamplight, the older cop’s face was suddenly stark. ‘A fifteen-minute drive from Manhattan over the Queensborough Bridge and you’re in South America, to all intents and purposes. And you’re taking your life in your hands, mingling with drug barons, pushers, users and every kind of sleaze ball there is. I’m sure as hell glad you’re moving over to my unit, kid, real glad.’
‘So am I…Let’s face it, I’ve probably just added a few extra years to my life.’
Neil nodded, went on, ‘And
