Читать книгу Angel - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 14

The bar was called Ouzo-Ouzo and it was located on the Bowery not far from Houston Street.

The neighbourhood was not particularly salubrious, but then Kevin Madigan had grown accustomed to the disreputable in his four years as an undercover cop. It seemed to him that he spent half his time in murky hideaways such as this, waiting for every kind of lowlife to bring him what he wanted – namely information of some kind or another.

He mused about this situation now as he nursed his beer in a bosky corner of the little Greek hole-in-the-wall on the outer fringes of SoHo and Greenwich Village. He was sick to death of places like this, there was no getting away from that fact. On the other hand, such places were essential to him. Where else could he have his meetings with the sleazy characters he had to do business with?

It was exactly a week ago tonight that Rosie had suggested he come in from the cold, get himself a desk job with NYPD. He had laughed uproariously that night, but now he wondered if she might be right. This thought hardly had time to take hold before he dismissed it. A desk job would bore him. Worse, it would kill his soul.

When he was out on the street his adrenaline pumped like crazy. He was full of vitality and on top of it all, ready to go the whole nine yards, capable of dealing with anyone and anything that came flying at him. He knew that any job other than the one he had would do him irreparable damage, and not even his sister could convince him otherwise.

But maybe some sort of change was in order. That was one of the reasons he was sitting here at seven o’clock on Saturday night, already running late for his uptown date with his uptown girl, waiting for Neil O’Connor.

Neil was a special kind of guy, an old buddy, and a former undercover cop. He was still with the NYPD, but was now attached to the police department’s Crime Intelligence Division, which specialized in organized crime.

Earlier in the week, Neil had unexpectedly called him, and had asked if he would be interested in transferring over to the Crime Intelligence Division.

Much to his own astonishment, he had found himself saying that he might be, and he had agreed to meet Neil to discuss it. For the past few years he had been part of an NYPD Strike Force working closely with the FBI and the DEA, targeting Colombian and Asian drug-traffickers. He had been highly successful in this job, putting some of the most notorious drug kingpins away for years; they would be very old men before they were out on the street again.

Kevin glanced at his watch; out of the corner of his eye he saw Neil coming in through the front door, and raised his hand in greeting. Neil responded with a nod, striding forward.

His old friend was tall, well built, sandy-haired, with the brightest of blue eyes and masses of freckles on his wide Irish face.

Kevin stood up when Neil reached the table.

They shook hands, slapped each other on the back with the affection and camaraderie of good old buddies who had been through a lot together.

When they drew apart, Neil glanced at his half-finished glass of beer. ‘Want another, Kevin? Or something stronger?’

‘A beer’s fine, thanks. A Bud Light,’ Kevin answered, and sat down.

Neil moved over to the bar, came back a second later carrying a glass in each hand. After putting them on the table he took off his overcoat, threw it on an adjacent chair, and seated himself next to Kevin. Lighting a cigarette, Neil inhaled deeply, then plunged right in, keen to get straight to the point. ‘I want you in my unit, Kevin. Need you. Badly. And immediately. If you say you’re in then I’ll get you transferred practically overnight.’

Leaning forward slightly, fixing his eyes on Kevin, Neil continued with sheathed ferocity, ‘Destroying the Mob is a worthwhile cause, the kinda challenge you like. And I can sure promise you action, and plenty of it. So, whaddya say?’

For a moment Kevin did not respond.

He simply sat there, staring back at Neil, weighing his words carefully. Bringing his head closer to his friend’s, he said, ‘You didn’t explain much on the phone the other day, Neil.’

‘What’s there to explain?’ Neil eyed him curiously, raised his brows, added succinctly, ‘The name of the unit says it all, kid.’ He sighed, muttered, ‘We’re after the Mob, want to get as much on ‘em as we can.’

‘I realize that. What I meant was, would I be working undercover? And who specifically are you zeroing in on? Or aren’t you? Are you after the Mob in general?’

‘Answering your first question, you don’t have to go undercover if you don’t want to, but I’d prefer it if you did. You’re the best of the very best. To answer your second question, although we’re focusing on all the crime families in New York, at this particular time we’re making a real effort to bring down the Rudolfos.’

Kevin let out a long, low whistle on hearing this name. There were six organized crime families operating in New York: Gambino, Colombo, Genovese, Lucchese, Bonanno and Rudolfo. The latter organized crime family was the shrewdest and the most powerful organization in the American Mafia. The Don, Salvatore Rudolfo, was considered by police and mobsters alike to be one of the greatest dons there had ever been in the annals of organized crime. He was capo di tutti capi, boss of all bosses, the most respected and revered, and apparently the don to whom every other don on the Eastern Seaboard kowtowed.

Kevin exclaimed, ‘Jesus, Neil, that’s mighty ambitious! The Rudolfo family have proven to be almost impregnable for years now. It’s been pretty damned hard to get anything really spectacular on them, anything really incriminating, that’s why they’re so damned strong. It’s going to be pretty tough –’

‘Maybe not as tough as you think!’ Neil cut in sharply. ‘We’ve made a breakthrough, managed to infiltrate the Rudolfo family. We’ve put an undercover cop in there, and that’s where you come in, Kev. You’re gonna be in the drug business with ’em. Our inside man is gonna introduce you, vouch for you, stick close to you. If you’ll work undercover, that is.’

‘The Rudolfos have always denied they traffic in drugs, and continue to deny it.’

‘That’s bullshit, Kevin! All Mafiosi deal drugs, whatever their names, and you know it as well as I do. The Rudolfos are no better than any of their…their…brethren!’ Neil exclaimed vehemently in a voice grown suddenly acerbic.

He gave Kevin one of his hard, pointed stares. ‘You’re an expert in drugs and the drug business, and you’ve made a lotta busts. I need your expertise, your contacts, your special ability to blend into their scummy world, to move around with ease and confidence in it. So, give me an answer, kid.’

Kevin was silent.

Neil pressed, ‘I thought you were on a mission to get all the dirty bastards in the dirty drug business? This is your chance to strike at a really powerful and lethal purveyor of death, my friend. The Mob do it all, y’know, from smack to crack, you name it, they got it and they sell it. Millions of dollars’ worth of junk they put out on the streets of this city. Billions of dollars’ worth, in fact, if you count all the families, and the quantity they deal in a year.’

I’m in, Neil,’ Kevin said, making a decision.

There was a small pause. He lifted his glass, took a swallow of his beer, added, almost as an afterthought, ‘And I’ll work undercover, since that’s what you want.’

‘I knew I could count on you.’ Neil sounded extremely relieved. He continued, ‘I’ll talk to Eddie LaSalle on Monday, and start the paperwork immediately. As I told you when I called the other day, Eddie gave me the go-ahead, said I could approach you, so he won’t be surprised to hear you’ve agreed to transfer.’

‘No, he won’t. I mentioned it myself, told him I was seeing you tonight.’

Neil downed his beer and pushed back his chair. ‘How about something stronger to seal our deal?’ he suggested, rising and hovering behind his chair.

‘Thanks, Neil, but it’ll have to be one for the road. I’m running late for my date. And look, let me get it.’ As he spoke, Kevin half stood.

Neil shook his head. ‘No way, kid, this is on me.’ A wide grin spread across his face. ‘A date with your uptown girl, I don’t doubt. And I guess you’ll want a single malt on the rocks?’

‘Correct both times.’

A few seconds later they clinked glasses and toasted each other and wished each other great success in their venture together.

There was a short silence.

Neil lit a cigarette, drew on it, sat smoking, his expression contemplative.

Kevin sipped his Scotch, watching the other 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.