The Proposal

Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Early February, 1998 Tracy huddled in the back of the limousine, swallowing convulsively, trying to ease the dryness in her mouth. They had been driving for hours, the interstate from D.C. to New York unwinding in a steady stream outside the windows. The two men in the front seat, aside from the occasional inquiry as to her physical comfort, ignored her completely. When they had pulled up along the curb beside her and hustled her inside, she had felt a degree of fear unknown since her adolescence. It was clear that she had come to the attention of one of her family’s former associates. What they wanted with her, she had no idea. She prayed Vince was at the other end of this journey waiting for her, and knew it was a virtual impossibility. He had been as good as his word. She had seen and heard nothing from him since the single night they had shared, barring three or four carefully worded e-mails. The obvious conclusion was that someone else had discovered that Vince had reentered her life and wanted to know what exactly he was doing there. No explanation had been given, no information of any sort had been forthcoming. She had been left to speculate on the who and the why of her abduction and the most benign conclusion she had arrived at was that don Aiuppo was behind it. Why remained a mystery. The possibility that it was someone other than the old don was the source of the steady beat of adrenaline through her bloodstream. They entered the city of New York at close to midnight, but it was nearly another hour before the big car pulled to a stop in a pleasant old neighborhood in front of a large Craftsman-style house. Her escorts handed her out of the car and walked her up the path to the front door, one of them retaining a polite but firm grip on her elbow, discouraging any attempt to bolt. She took a deep breath and stiffened her spine, determined to gift her abductor with a tongue-lag. &g. One of the men opened the front door and spoke softly to the bodyguard in the foyer. She was unable to hear more than the low murmur of their voices, but the door opened wider and she was taken inside. They brought her to a dimly lit library. The old man who sat in one of the leather wingbacks before the fading fire looked up at their entrance. "We brought her, Rudy," one of them supplied needlessly. Aiuppo nodded. "Thank you, Luigi. Please wait outside." Tracy remained standing where she was as the wiseguys backed out of the room, shutting the door behind them. As it clicked shut, she turned to face the old don. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded in a hiss. Rudolpho rose and moved toward a tray of decanters that occupied one corner of a massive desk without replying. He poured a generous two-finger measure of something colorless into a tumbler and brought it to her. "Here. You probably need this." He handed her the glass. "Please, sit." He waved her into the second wingback and returned to his own, picking up the glass on the small table between the two chairs. Reluctantly, she did as she was told, slowly sinking into the burnished leather. "I don’t know what the hell this is all about, but your goons scared me half to death this afternoon. And God knows what the students thought!" She had been removed from the sidewalk in front of Georgetown University law school in D.C. where she had begun teaching part time at the beginning of the winter quarter in full view of a startled student body. "There was no time for pleasantries," Aiuppo replied. "Do you remember one of Sonny’s wiseguys — one by the name Tony Grecco?" Tracy suppressed a shudder. "I remember him." "He testified in front of a Federal Grand Jury this afternoon. He has blown Vince’s cover." Reflexively, Tracy took a deep draught of the contents of her gl hal half choking on the burn of its passage down her throat. "Vinnie’s superiors at the O.C.B. told me as soon as they’d heard. They asked me to find him. To tell him to come in." He turned his head to look at the woman next to him. "I hoped you would know where he was." She gripped her glass in both hands and rested her forehead on its cold edge, unable to think clearly. The magnitude of the disaster was simply incomprehensible. "I haven’t seen him in almost eight weeks," she told him, then turned to face him. "Who else knows about this?" "I do not know. But by Monday morning, it will likely be common knowledge. Vincenzo will be a dead man," Aiuppo answered. "Unless we can find a way to discredit Grecco." He met her eyes. "Do you love my stepson?" Tracy didn’t hesi. &. "Yes." "Will you marry him?" "When I’m free to. And if he asks me again." "Are you willing trry rry him, even if he remains undercover?" She stared at him, unable to gain traction on the conversation. Aiuppo continued. "As don, I can grant him time. Not much, but perhaps enough to allow him to prove Grecco was stealing Sonny blind. My men will fight me on this, Tracy. They have been laying the groundwork fobreabreak from me, thinking I no longer have the teeth to stop them from destroying everything I have built." "How does my willingness to marry Vince fit into anything?" she asked, dazed. "You are a Steelgrave. If you choose to stand with him, you may be able to help convince the families that it is Grecco, not Vinnie, who is the true enemy." "Any influence the Steelgrave name had died with my uncle," she exclaimed, strangled byden den tears. "No. There are many who honor your name. Your family was greatly respected." "Greatly feared, you mean." A lifetime of bitterness filled her voice. "Fear and respect are like this," he replied impatiently, crossing the first two fingers of his left hand. "They cannot be separated." He leaned forward in his chair. "Help me to help Vincenzo, Tracy. Together, we may be able to buy him the time to clear his name." "No. I don’t know what your game is, Rudy, but Vince is likely to be much safer in witness protection than he is taking hisncesnces with you. I don’t know what you want from him, but whatever it is may very well kill him." Her instincts as a trial attorney were shouting of deception, treachery. "You would choose this for him, knowing that you would never see him again?" Aiuppo asked, voice tinged with sadness and something else she could not identify. "His life is more important to me than what I want or don’t want," she stated. "Enough people have died." The old man sipped contemplatively from his glass. "You are very much like his mother," bserbserved. The wistfulness was clear to her, even in her current state of mind. "He told you I had offered to help him in his work." "A gift horse if I ever saw one," she retorted, welcoming the anger that began a steady glow in the pit of her stomach. "It’s not his work you wanted to help, is it? You wanted to find a way to b him him into your world. Make him your man. Make him protect your empire." Intuition had given it to her in one guess. She knew she was right, seeing it in the sudden veiling of his expression. "You are very much mistaken if you think I will stand by and watch — or worse, aid and abet — your attempt to corrupt an honorable man!" He was silent for a long time. "You have so little faith in the strength of his convictions that you think anything I could offer him would tempt him? Then you do not know him very well. It is the strength of his convictions I want, Tracy. I want him to return those convictions to us, as family. He has something we have lost through greed and lack of vision. He has the vision. And the strength to make it others’ vision as well." He glanced at her. "He has worked undercover for ten years. In all that time do you not think he has been tempted by what we offer? Yet his private life res sis simple. He has taken no bribes, stolen nothing, compromised nothing." "What you want him to do is against the law, Rudy! To pull off what you have in mind will mean that he will have to compromise the very vision you say you value!" Aiuppo sighed. "You say you love him. Yet you know nothing about him. Do you think he will walk into witness protection without you? He has chosen you, my dear. He will not leave without you. And you will not be free to go with him until your mother has passed.is mis means you have two choices. Would you rather see him dead, or with us? If he stays to be with you, then he must maintais cos cover. To do that he will have to face — and defeat — my lieutenants. If he fails in this, they will kill him. If he succeeds, he will control my territory. And he will have the chance to end the degeneration of years." His gaze was pitiless. "Your willingness to stand beside him may be all that stands between him and a bullet in the brain." She stared back at him, head aching with the certainty he was right. "You bastard, you don’t care who gets hurt, as long as you get what you want." "You are wrong, my dear. I care. But I cannot let it stop me from doing what I must. I am don. My family is larger than just my blood. Men have sworn oaths to me. And I to them. I betrayed those vows once. I will not do it again. And keeping Vincenzo alive and in place is the best, and perhaps only way of honoring those oaths." "Even if it means selling his soul to the devil?&q He reached out and placed a hand on her arm. "Stand with him, Tracy. Keep the devil at bay."   Aiuppo had Luigi escort her upstairs and lock her into one of the several bedrooms. He had every confidence in the young man’s ability to prevent her unscheduled departure without having her presence pose any temptation to him. Even if his tastes had run to women, he had been well-raised enough not to grope the female guests of a Mafia don. roodrooded on the hand the fates had dealt him. Tracy Steelgrave had surprised him. Her intelligence he had already factored in, but her insight, spirit and morality had been unknowns. She was indeed a good match for Vince. Together, their strengths reinforced each other. He had no doubt that together they could hold anything they chose to grasp. Unlike most men of his generation, Rudy Aiuppo had never been prone to underestimating the strength and intelligence of women. When he had married his first wife, it had been for those traits. He had wanted a partner, not merely an ornament. And he had remained faithful to her all her life despite her inability to bear him more than a single son, something nearly unheard of in his world. But she had been more than half the brains of the marriage. He had learned from her the subtle use of power to sway, to influence without appearing to exert any pressure. It had also been at her suggestion that he had begun to place himself in a paternal role among his closest hirelings, benefiting from the personal loyalty that tended to flow from this strategy. Tracy Steelgrave had her intelligence and Carlotta’s will. She would be more than decorative in Vince’s life. She was a queen on Aiuppo’s gameboard. One he held in check until the moment came to unleash her on the rest of the players. He was willing to bet everything he had created in hife tfe that together, she and Vince would be able to beat anything they came up against. If she could be made to see reason. His reason… "You would have liked her, Carlotta," he told his dead second wife fondly, sure in his heart she heard him. "She is very much like you. She will bear him strong sons… and beautiful daughters." He smiled suddenly, the impishness in his eyes lending him youth. "Or perhaps beautiful sons and strong daughters." ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Lifeguard swung his wheelchair around and headed back the way he had just come. His version of pacing was considerably higher energy than most, giving him an upperbody work out that did more to relieve stress than the type of pacing the two-legs did. And he was in dire need of stress relief. The news just kept getting worse. Not only had Vince completely disappeared, but Tracy Steelgrave had been hustled into a dark-windowed limo in front of Georgetown University in broad daylight less than three hours after news of Grecco’s testimony had reached the O.C.B.. Despite the presence of dozens of students, no one had managed to get a license plate number, or even a description of the men who’d made the snatch. He had done everything he could think of to try and contact Terranova. All he could do now was wait and pray that Vince would check in on his regular schedule. He had half a dozen escape hatches open for the boy, should Vince need them, though Dan had little faith that he would be willing to avail himself of them. He would never agree to vanish with Tracy’s whereabouts unknown. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide and after ten years of intimate acquaintance, the Lifeguard had become very good at predicting how Terranova would react in most circumstances. He knew Vince was in love, or thought he was. Objectivity would not is lis long suit right now. No, hot-headed impulsiveness was a far greater likelihood than rational action. He prayed Vince would hear about Grecco’s testimony before some mob goon squad came gunning for him. "Come on, kid, reach out and touch someone," he prayed aloud, turning to begin another circuit. ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Lococco was still at the computer when Vince stumbled back downstairs at daybreak, looking slightly — though only slightly — less haggard than when he’d gone up them six hours previously. "Rog?" "In here, Vince," Lococco answered the query. Vince poked his head in the door. "You been here all night?" Roger didn’t deign to reply. Vince entered the office, eyeballing the sparsely furnished room curiously. It was vintage Lococco. Computer esoca oca occupied the scant available surfaces, wires and cables conspicuously absent. It was higher than hi-tech. He peered over Roger’s shoulder at the biggest thin screen monitor he’d ever seen. It was some sort of internet banking site, he realized quickly. Then the size of the numbers he was seeing began to register. "Roger?" Lococco raised a hand from his keyboarding peremptorily, discouraging interruption. Vince watched the numbers, none of them smaller than six digits, scrolling down the screen. "Welcome to the Lococco empire, Vince." Roger said, catching Terranova’s shocked expression. "I thought you walked away with a hundred million of Mel’s money. There’s a hellova lot more here than that." "The rudiments of high finance seem to have escaped you, my friend. When you start out with a hundred million, you have to be a complete moron — or make a concerted effort — to lose it all. All those dead presidents… breed in the dark." The minus signs in front of many of the numbers began to impinge on Terranova’s brain. "So what’s with all the negative numbers?" he asked. "I’m liquidating a few assets," Lococco replied flippantly. Thmbermbers accumulating on the screen were unreal to Vince. "How much are you worth?" he asked, not believing what he was seeing. "Last time I bothered to check, just shy of a cool billion. And that was just the liquid assets. Add the hard ones and it’s probably closer to two." "Two billion?" Vince’s consternation was evident in his voice, and Lococco shot him a look, unable to restrain his grin at the expression on Terranova’s face. "Why do you think I’ve been e-mailing you account numbers every coupla years?" he asked. "There’s more here than I could spend in six lifetimes, Buckwheat." He grew serious, then. "Stay here, Vince. They won’t find you. And if they do, they’ll be up against a whole lot more than some paunchy ex-wiseguy." He got a rise out of Vince, as he’d intended. "Whaddaya mean paunchy, you washed-up CIA has-been -" "God, you’re easy," Lococco teased. Vince raised a fist, half serious about landing it. "I don’t want your money, Rog." "Too bad. Just so we’re all on the same page, here, if I fall off the planet tomorrow, you’ll be getting a call from a guy named McCormick with the bad news that you’ve just become one very rich son of a bitch." Terranova stared at Lococco, at a loss. "Hey, what you do with it is up to you. Give it to Frank." Roger grinned. "I’d like to see him explain it to Beckstead." Vince couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face. "That’d bring on a coronary for sure." He dragged a second chair to the desk. "So what’s with the ready cash?" Lococco didn’t reply immediately. "I’m not letting you go back without backup." "No. You’re not coming with me. There are still people out there trying to kill you, Roger!" Lococco cocked a sardonic eyebrow at his friend. "I’m not the only one sitting here with that particular problem, Buckwheat." "No one’s gunning for me, Roger. Not yet, anyway." Vince argued. "I’m not letting you get involved in this." "I’d like to see you stop me," Lococco was uncompromising. "Have you filed an itinerary with McPike yet?" "No. I don’t exactly like to advertise your whereabouts, Spanky." Vince massaged the back of his neck. "I should probably let the Lifeguard know I’m OK, though. Can you connect this thing up with the D.O.J. e-mail drop?" "What’s wrong with the phone?" Lococco asked. "I don’t want to hear the lecture," Vince admitted. Lococco grinned. "You didn’t even give them a clue where you are, did you." It was a statement, not a question. "Nope." Lococco set about bringing up the classified and highly secure Department of Justice mail server, something he should not, by rights, have been able to do. That Vince had simply assumed it was possible spoke to how well Terranova knew him and his capabilities. Having waded through multiple layers of encryption, he was rewarded by the D.O.J. seal and the flashing of the password field. "It’s all yours," he said, rolling his Aeron desk chair out of the way to let Vince access the keyboard. "Knock yourself out." Vince typed in his password. Then confirmed it, and was dropped neatly into the secure mail host. "I’m going for a swim," Roger told him, rising and heading out the office door, leaving Vince to compose his missive in peace.   Vince pondered just how little he could actually get away with revealing about where he was and who he was with, then began typing. A terse paragraph later, he clicked ‘send’ and it was on its electronic way to the Lifeguard. He considered checking his own address for messages then decided he wasn’t any happier about the prospect of being lectured in print than he had been about a verbal chewing out. Without a second thought, he logged off and shut down the computer, amused that Lococco, contrary to the core, had chosen a Mac O.S. rather than the ubiquitous P.C. platform. He left the office and headed toward the back of the house. Various items of Lococco’s clothing had simply been discarded along a path leading to the French doors that opened to the pool. Obviously, Roger had not bothered with trunks. Vince watched Roger’s rapid progress up and down the pool as he bent to collect the scattered clothing. Lococco had clearly been a bachelor all his life, Vince thought, wryly. The blithe disregard for the mess he left in his wake implied the assumption that it would be taken care of by someone else. It was the attitude of a man with a maid, not a wife or lover. It was the only area of Roger’s lifat wat was not subject to the careful attention to detail that characterized everything else about him. He draped Roger’s clothes over the back of a big leather club chair near the French doors and added a towel from the nearest bathroom for good measure. Satisfied, he went in search of coffee. It took several minutes to discover where the appliances were hidden in the butler’s pantry and several more before he found the coffee beans.   Lococco swam hard, pushing muscles stiff with fatigue. The rain, threatening all night, now began in earnest, a chilly contrast to the 76° pool. He had always liked swimming in the rain and six hours in front of the computer had him feeling every one of his forty seven years. He worked his tired har hard enough to feel a sweat break, then cooled down. By the time he climbed out of the water and returned to the house to claim the towel Vince had left for him, he could smell the coffee. He wandered into the kitchen, dripping all over the hardwood floors, towel-drying his hair. "Thanks," he acknowledged as he wrapped the towel around his waist and took the steaming mug Vince handed him. "Lucy must have taken you on as a mission of mercy," Terranova observed, eyeing the trail of puddles. "You’ve obviously never lived with a woman." "Not since my folks sent me to boarding school when I was six," Roger agreed with a certain asperity. "My life doesn’t lend itself to permanent attachments, Buckwheat." "Not many of them, anyway," Vince replied. "Yeah, well, there are always exceptions," Lococco smiled ironically, sipping his coffee. Vince hooked an ankle around a chair leg and dragged it out from under the table, sitting down and resting his elbows on the pine planks, mug held in both hands. "You ever thought about marriage?" Lococco laughed. "Are you kidding? I sleep with them. I don’t have relationships with them. Besides, what woman in her right mind would take on a paranoid ex-special forces — ex-CIA. assassin?" Vince raised his eyebrows. "How do you know if you never ask?" "I don’t need to ask, Buckwheat. This neck of the woods is crawling with rich, bored, married women looking for love in all the wrong places. I just show up in those places when I’m in the mood and everybody goes home happy." Vince shook his head, smiling. "Someday someone is going to get past that asshole attitude of yours. I just hope I’m there to see it." "Not in this lifetime," Lococco assured him emphatically. Vince smiled into his mug. "Never say never, Rog. It usually comes back to bite you in the butt." ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Lifeguard cursed as his e-mail alert sounded, and brought up the mail host on his screen. "Sonovabitch!" he swore, seeing Terranova’s name on the flagged message. He opened it, reading the four sentence note as he picked up the phone and dialed McPike’s direct number. McPike answered on the second ring. "Frank, I just got an e-mail from Vince. He says he’s with a friend and is planning on staying awhile." He heard McPike’s exhalation of relief. "Where is he?" "He’s real careful not to say, Frank. And from the sound of it, he hasn’t checked his messages. He would have been on the first plane back if he had any idea that Tracy is missing." "Can you figure out where the message was sent from?" McPike asked. "Already on it," the Lifeguard said as he finished activating the trace programs. He hit a brick wall after the third server address. "Shit. Wherever he is, it’s got some bad-ass firewalls. This is gonna take some time, Frank." "We haven’t got time, Uncle!" Frank said, struggling not to shout his frustration. "Then get off the line and let me work on this," Dan snapped back. "I’ll find him." ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Roger, having showered, shaved and otherwise done what he could to make himself feel semi-human, returned to the office and turned the computer back on. Out of habit, he checked the system’s electronic security measures, not expecting to find anything. And was unpleasantly surprised to discover that Vince’s Lifeguard had managed to route a message to Lococco’s heavily secured mail address. He opened it, read it, then swore softly. "Vince! Vinnie, get in here!" he shouted over his shoulder as he hit the ‘print’ button. He heard Terranova clattering across the hardwood at a run. "What?" Vince asked, slowing his headlong rush with a grab at the door jamb. Lococco snatched the printfromfrom the maw of the printer and thrust it towards Terranova. "You have got some big time shit hitting the fan," he warned. "Your Lifeguard got this to me through pretty heavy security. He shouldn’t have been able to trace the source of the message." "You don’t know Uncle Mike," Vince said distractedly, grabbing the paper from Lococco. The message was brief. Vince read it once, then again as he reached for the phone on Roger’s desk. &;Shi;Shit," he swore under his breath, waiting for the call to go through. "Mike?" he demanded when the line connected.   Lifeguard’s reply was rife with relief. "Vince, thank god! Where the hell are you? McPike has been outta his mind. We’ve been calling everyone we could think of, trying to locate you." "California," came the angry reply. "What the hell is going on out there? Who blew my cover? And where the hell is Tracy?" "Tony Grecco testified in front of a Federal Grand Jury yesterday afternoon about the money we planted in his bank to discredit him with the Steelgraves. We’re working on finding the girl, but no one’s been able to I.D. the guys who took her." "She was snatched? From where?&; V; Vince’s rage was palpable even across three thousand miles. "In front of Georgetown University. She started teaching there part time this quarter." "You’re telling me that a woman was yanked off the street in front of a campus full of kids and no one can make a fucking I.D.? I’m on the first flight outta here, Mike." There’s nothing you can do to help that isn’t going to put you in jeopardy. I need you to stay clear. Find some hole to hide in and don’t even breathe loud till we can find a way to clean up this mess." "I’m on my way back, Mike," came Terranova’s reply. "I’m not laying low with an innocent woman’s life on the line." "We don’t know that she’s in any danger, Vinnie, but we sure as hell know you are!" Dan knew he was fighting a losing battle but was determined to go on record with his opposition. "Stay clear of this!" "Like hell! I am not going to assume that she’s not at risk just because you don’t know who took her or where the hell she is!" "Vinnie, it’s Saturday afternoon. By tomorrow night there’s going to be a price on your head and every mobster on the East Coast is going to be gunning for you. You can’t do anything except get yourself killed!" "It’s not open to discussion. I’m on my way." Lifeguard swore as the phone hit the cradle on the other end of the line, effectively ending the argument. He dialed McPike.   Lococco had collected his cell phone and was occupied with locating his pilot when Vince slammed down the phond, cd, cursing, loped out of the office and up the stairs. Roger found him cramming his shaving kit and clothing into his bags and wrenching the zippers shut. "Rog, get me to the nearest airport." Lococco grabbed Vince hard by the biceps, halting the agent’s frenetic motion. "I’ve been on the phone with the airlines. The next flight to New York or D.C. leaves in two hours. We’ll never make it to SFO or Oakland in that amount of time. My pilot can meet us at the airfield in three with the jet fueled up and ready to go. You’lt tot to D.C. an hour earlier than any commercial flight, with no hold-up at the other end. So calm down and tell me what the hell is going on." Terranova met Roger’s eyes, knowing that argument was pointless. Lococco had chosen to involve himself in the mess Vince’s life had become, and the knowledge that he would not be completely on his own was disconcertingly reassuring. If anyone could help him find Tracy, it would be Lococco. "You heard most of it." Roger must have recognized the realization of the inevitable in Vince’s face. Help had been accepted, however unwillingly, and help was what Roger intended to give. "The princess has been kidnapped and someone’s blown your cover in a big way. That’s about all I got out of the shouting match with the Lifeguard." "They took her in front of Georgetown University in broad daylight with an army of eyewitnesses and no one can I.D. the bastards!" Terranova’s distress was unmistakable, and he could see Lococco begin to believe that the situation was every bit as fraught with emotion as Vince had tried to convince him. "Who rolled over on you?" he asked. "Tony Grecco. He was one of Sonny’s main wiseguys and a major assholee wae was skimming from the dock operations and when I figured it out, he tried to frame me for icing a weapons dealer that he’d let use the piers to smuggle guns. The whole thing went to hell and Dave Steelgrave wound up dead in this dive motel room and Sonny ended up in the hospital with that snake, Grecco, telling him I was the one who’d blown the deal. I fingered Grecco for stealing from Sonny, then had the O.C.B. plant money in his accounts to back it up. He just tesed ted to it in front of a Grand Jury." Lococco’s brows rose. "When your cover springs a leak, it’s a big one, Buckwheat. So what’s the plan?" "Find Tracy. Take her back," was the bitter response. "And hopefully kill the bastards who took her." "Some plan." Roger seized one of Vince’s bags and headed for the top of the stairs. "You’re gonna have to do better then that if you expect to stay alive long enough to profess your undying devotion to the woman." Vince grabbed the other one and followed Lococco downstairs. "Alright, genius, let’s hear your version," he called a Rog Roger’s departing back. Lococco dumped the bag at the front door and took the second one from Terranova, dropping it next to the first. "First of all, start by asking yourself who knew you were seeing the Steelgrave babe. Then ask yourself what they have to gain by taking her." Roger suggested, heading for the kitchen. Vince followed him, considering the questions. "No one should have known I’d even run into her, much less that she was important to me." "Wrong. Someone knows or she wouldn’t be missing. I know, you know, she knows — and that’s just for starters. I figure it’s safe to rule myself out, since she disappeared before you ever told me about her. So who did she tell? Whd yod you tell?" Roger headed for the wet bar at one end of the dining room and poured several ounces of whiskey into each of a pair of highball glasses, handing one to Vince. "Lifeguard. McPike. Beckstead…" he sipped from the glass and then looked up at Lococco. "Rudy. He was there when I told Frank and Beckstead,&q he he said softly, the color draining from his face as he set down the glass. "Bingo. So we’ve got the ‘who’. Now what about the ‘why’?" Vince rose and began to pace the length of the dining room, drink forgotten on the table. "We don’t know for sure he’s the one who’s behind this." Lococco snorted derisively. "Yeah, right. It’s a river in Egypt." "Huh?" Vince rounded on him, bewildered. "Denial. Wake up and smell the coffee, Vinnie! Rudy Aiuppo has got you by the short hairs. He is playing you like a fucking orchestra! He tried being nice and the OCB. wouldn’t bite. So now he’s putting you in a position where he can manipulate you into doing what he wants by threatening the love of your life. He’s making you an offer he knows you can’t refuse." Vince felt his stomach rebel against the scotch he’d just swallowed, nausea making his mouth water. Lococco was right. He knew it on an intuitive level. The sense of betrayal opened in his belly like the gates of Hell, and the affection and trust he’d had for his stepfather withered in the face of it. Light-headed, he sat down slowly in one of the chairs at the table. Lococco took a seat of his own, swirling the contents of his glass as his gaze flicked between Terranova and the drink. "So. How does this change things? Will he hurt her?" he asked at last. Vince didn’t reply, and Roger frowned as if considering repeating himself. Instead, he pushed the scotch toward Vince’s elbow. "You’d better drink this. You don’t look so hot." Ignoring the glass, Vince shook his head. "I don’t know. Five minutes ago, I would have bet my life on the answer being no. But now…" He stared into Lococco’s face as if seeking the answer there. "Do you think he had something to do with Grecco showing up in front of the Grand Jury?" Lococco began pacing where Vince had left off. "Not likely. But I’m willing to bet he was bright enough to take advantage of the opportunity it presented. The question is, how did he find out, and who else in the mob knows about it? How much time do we have to find Cinderella and get out without getting turned into pumpkins?" Terranovaed ted to focus on the questions, his mind spiraling around Rudy’s betrayal like a planet in orbit around a black hole. "Lifeguard said they’d tried reaching me every place they knew I go. I’d be willing to bet they contacted him to get him to tell me to come in if he saw me. So if that’s how he found out, we may have a little time." "We won’t know till we get there. So how do you want to handle it?" Vince dropped his head onto arms folded on the table. "Geezus, Rog. He loved my mother. Why would he do this to me?" he asked rhetorically. He felt the brief warmth of Roger’s hand at the back of his neck, a physical gesture of comfort that surprised Vince to the depths of his soul. "I don’t think this is about you, Vinnie," Roger said, resuming his pacing. I think he’s jammed up and he sees you as being the best shot he has at solving the problem." "What problem?" Vince asked into the planks of the table. "I don’t know, but we’d better find out," Roger downed the rest of the liquor in his glass in a single swallow, "because he’s making it ours." ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Rudolpho Aiuppo finished the wine in his glass and pushed away from the dining rtabltable, replete. He had secured Tracy in a hotel suite downtown under a false name and set Luigi to ensuring that she stayed there. Now, he waited. He wasn’t sure whether the first call would come from one of his cohorts or from Terranova, though it would be easier if he heard from Vince first. In either event, it would precipitate the next level of the . H. He contemplated the damage he had done to his newly reestablished relationship with his stepson unhappily. It was unlikely that Vince would ever trust him as he had. He regretted that casualty even as he acknowledged its necessity. He needed Vince as autonomous as possible. A man with too great an allegiance to someone else’s vision could not pursue his own. It was nearly nine in the evening when the imperative pounding on his front door rang through the house. Hitedited in the library, knowing his bodyguard would bring whoever it was to him there. He was unprepared, however, for the door to his sanctuary to be slammed into the wall with enough force to drive the door knob into the plaster. He looked up, masking his surprise, as Vince stormed into the room, another man on his heels. "Vincenzo. What is wrong?" he asked calmly. "Where is she, Rudy? What have you done with her?" The ice in his voice matched that in his eyes. Aiuppo tented his fingers, eyeing the fury in Vince’s face, unruffled, stalling. He had not anticipated that Terranova would have puzzled out his connection to Tracy’s disappearance quite so quickly. "She is perfectly safe. I intend to make sure she remains that way. And that she remains here. You will not vanish into your witness protection program without her. As long as I need you, she will be my guarantee that you will remain." Rudy knew that the time for equivocation was past. The truth would serve him better, now. Rudy would not have thought it possible for Vince’s expression to convey any greater anger that it had, but the rage that crackled there now was incandescent. His voice was steady. Even. "When this is over, I may just kill you." "And if he doesn’t, I will." The interjection brought Aiuppo’s attention to Vince’s companion. There was something familiar about the man, Aiuppo realized, rummaging in his memory for a name. "You worked for Mel Profitt," he said, placing the grim, gray-eyed man, knowing he looked into the face of a killer. "Mr…. Lococco?" The sandy head dipped in acknowledgement, eye-contact never wavering. Rudy was under no misapprehension that he was anything less than serious in his threat. "We will leave that discussion until the more immediate problem of restoring Vnzo&nzo’s cover has been dealt with. I do not know in what capacity you are here, but I assume it is similar to your function in Mr. Profitt’s organization. You intend to keep my stepson alive?" "I intend to slit you open from balls to brains if you don’t give him back the girl," Lococco replied. "Now." Aiuppo suppressed a smile. "He will get her back. When it is safe for them to be together. Not before. In the mean time, I suggest you spend your energy in keeping Vincenzo alive long enough to prove that Tony Grecco did, in fact, skim from Sonny Steelgrave’s dock revenues." Vince’s eyes narrowed. "What’s that supposed to accomplish?" "Grecco apparently has yet to admit his theft. In my opinion, he testified in the hopes of gaining some sort of early release. Once out of prison, he can disappear with the money he stole, and you are left with no way to prove he took it." Aiuppo speculated. "It doesn’t matter a goddamn whether Grecco took the money or not. As soon as the dons hear he blew me in, I’m dead." Vince answered icily. "As far as I know, they do not yet know Grecco has resurfaced. There is a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. Come with me. Stand before them and tell them what you know about Grecco, about his accusations regarding your identity. I can buy you perhaps three days grace to prove he took the money. If you can salvage your cover, you can remain in New York until Ms. Steelgrave is free to go with you." Lococco snorted in cynical amusement. "Come with you and get himself shot, you mean." "If he comes in on his own, they will listen to him. They will give him a chance to prove Grecco is a liar and a thief. If not, when they learn of Tony’s testimotheythey will bring in out-of-town talent to kill Vinnie," Aiuppo said to Lococco. "They’ll try," Lococco corrected. "I wouldn’t bet on them succeeding." "If you intercede for me with them, you’re going to tip Brod and Castellano that you’re not happy with the current management," Vince pointed out. "Yes. I expect they will fight me on this, Vincenzo. I wish to discover who among the dons supports them, and how far they are willing to go." "You want to use me as a stalking horse," Terranova realized, a piece of the puzzle falling into place. Aiuppo did not deny it. "Will you come?" Terranova fixed icy blue eyes on the old man. "You haven’t left me a lot of choices, Rudy." "I did not intend to leave you any." ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ "You’re walking right into this like a lamb to the slaughter," Lococco pointed out, not for the first time. "At least take me with you." "I can’t. They’d kill you before you got to the front door. No one who isn’t a made man is welcome anywhere near a full council of war. And that’s what this’ll be. If they believe Grecco and think I’m a cop, the only thing left to fight over is who’ll get to gut me where I stand," Vince answered tiredly. "You’re not making a compelling argument for walking in there," Roger said worriedly. "Does the old man still have enough juice to get you your hearing? To buy you a grace? ‘Cuz if not, you’re basically a suicide waiting to happen." "That’s the risk I’m gonna have to take." Vince ran fingers through his hair, massaging the back of his neck. "Rudy has been out of the eye of the councinceince he married my mother, but he’s kept a pretty close watch on who the players are and where the alliances are. They all know who he is. Even the new blood has heard of Rudy. In some ways, maybe it’s a good thing he’s been out of the spotlight for eight years. No one else will have any clear idea just how much control he still has. They’re gonna be real careful around him until they can get a feel for his power base. Killing me on the spot is not gonna go down well with him, so odds are, they’ll give him what he asks for. His cappos are gonna be the biggest problem." "Yeah, I gathered that from what the old man said. The question is, Buckwheat, just how big a problem?" Lococco mused, pulling off his boots. "Get some sleep, Vince. This may be the last chance you have." "Yeah," was Terranova’s weary reply. "G’night, Rog." He rose from the guest bed he’d been sitting on and made for the door. "In case I forget to say it later, thanks. You shouldn’t be here, but I appreciate the help. Just do me a favor, and try not to get yourself killed?" "I’m not the one the mob is about to put out a contract on, Vince," Roger observed dryly. "Yeah, you’re the one the CIA has been trying to kill for ten years." Vince’s response was grim. "‘Trying’ being the operative word," Roger snapped. "I’m not at risk here, pal. You are. I don’t have so many friends left that I can afford to lose one. Besides, the CIA is not going to be looking for me in New York, so stop worrying about it." Vince paused in the doorway, considering a reply, then thought better of it, shaking his head. "Thanks, Rog," he reiterated finally and left the room, closing the door behind him. Lococco pulled his black T-shirt over his head and lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling moodily. "You’re welcome, Buckwheat." ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Vince left Lococco waiting with the limo a block from Chero Capuzi’s huge house, looking every inch the expensive hired muscle. He walked Aiuppo toward the front door of the mansion wordlessly, letting Rudy make the introductions to the bodyguard at the massive oak portal. Rudy took Vince’s arm, the prerogative of an old man, making his affection for his stepson clear to everyone in the room as they entered the dining room. He nodded pleasantly at the half-dozen of his contemporaries in attendance, exchanging small talk, ignoring the buzz of speculation that hovered in the air like a swarm of insects. He steered Vince toward the host of the gathering where he held court at the head of the massive walnut dining table. "Chero," he greeted the don. "I believe you have met my stepson?" Chero Capuzi eyed Terranova coolly before responding. "It has been a long time, Vincenzo," he said at last. "Don Capuzi," Vince inclined his head with the correct degree of respect. This was one of the most powerful of the remaining old guard dons, the man having stepped back out of retirement with the arrest of the Commission. He was now acting as the one of the new don of dons’ chief lieutenants. According to the OCB's intel, that made him second or third in Thomas Eboli’s power hierarchy. He was once again the man who shielded the don of dons from the petty day-to-day minutiae of the mob’s business. He was also the don who had presided over the ceremony that had indoctrinated Vince into the mob a decade ago. Vince had had very few encounters with the man outside ‘family’ gatherings, but the don’s reputation was for a degree of ruthless self-interest. He had been running territories for longer than Vince had been alive. This was the first man he had to convince of his veracity. Aiuppo led Vince to a pair of chairs four or five down on Capuzi’s left and sat, having chosen a carefully neutral location that said nothing of his alliances or grievances with anyone else at the table. Imperiously, he sent Vince to procure a couple of cups of coffee from the sideboard. Vince brought them back to the table and sat down beside Aiuppo. He sipped from his own, using the action to inconspicuously survey the room. Brod and Castellano had not yet put in appearance. He suspected that when they did, all pretense at politeness would disappear. It would be then that the currents of power in the room would become plain. There was a brief flurry of activity while a few late-comers helped themselves to refreshments and found seats at the table. When the hubbub had died down, Capuzi addressed them, commencing the meeting, then yielded the floor to open discussion. The principle area of concern was the increasing unruliness of the street gangs that rampaged through the city. There wasn’t a single don who had not lost men to them. It was shaping up to a major turf war as the gangs pushed at the confines of what the mob allowed them. Some ten minutes into what was looking to become a protracted argument over a border dispute, Aiuppo stood. The silence that fell was that of surprise, all ears turned to him. "Gentlemen, we have a bigger problem than territories. I received word last night that Tony Grecco appeared before a Federal Grand Jury here in New York on Friday afternoon." This was met with equal parts anger and confusion as the older dons brought the newest members of the fraternity into the picture Aiuppo allowed the conversation to continue for a moment longer, then banged his coffee cup into the saucer in a sharp staccato. "The accusations he has made are serious. He claims that my stepson is an undercover Federal agent -" The uproar was instantaneous. Capuzi’s impeve sve signal trained the full attention — and weaponry — of his household guard on the back of Vince’s head. Terranova affected obliviousness, nothing of his racing pulse visible in his actions. This was it. The next few minutes would decide whether he left on his feet, or in a box. Aiuppo, rising to stand beside Vince, shoved the closest gun barrel up at the ceiling. "Enough! Do you think I would bring him here if I thought there was any truth in the accusation?" The old man glared at Capuzi, then met the eye of everyone in the room in turn. "Vincenzo is famiglia, one of us! And Anthony Grecco was imprisoned ten years ago, after David Steelgrave was killed. Who do you think is the liar?" "Why would Grecco lie?" came the inquiry from the doorway as Michael Brod and Brandon Castellstrostrode into the room. "Why wouldn’t he?" Vince spoke up, voice laced with contempt. "He hated my guts and was lookin’ for an excuse to whack me from the minute Sonny offered me a job. The fact that he was skimming Sonny’s dock operations gives him a pretty clear motive. He testifies that I’m a cop, gets himself a ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ card from the Justice department and gets payback all in one shot. Pretty slick. And I’m screwed, any way you look at it. If I coulda proved he took the money ten years ago, I wouldn’t have had to rig his accounts to make him look dirty in the first place." "You admit framing him? You have got to have some of the biggest, hairiest, cahónes on the planet," Castellano remarked in amazed outrage. "What — are you deaf?" Vince glared at him, "Didn’t I just finish saying I put the money in his bank? It was him or me, and I made sure I was the last one standing when the lights came up." "How did you plant the money?" Capuzi asked coldly, clearly not willing to accept such a thing on faith. "Getting access to bank records doesn’t come easy — or cheap." "You’re telling me? I held paper on the bank manager. He fixed the records in exchange for the debt. It cost me over a hundred and fifty grand to set it up, but I figure it was one of the best investments I ever made. It proved my loyalty to Sonny, and fucked the Judas who got Dave killed at the same time." "This is all very touching, but Dave and Sonny are ten years in the grave. Trusting you got them killed. Trusting you may get everyone in this room killed!" Castellano snarled at Vince, thenbturned to meet Capuzi’s eyes. "I say we do the bastard where he stands." Aiuppo faced his lieutenants. "What you say is without meaning. This is a council decision, not one for a stronzagegginetti who cares more for the filling of his pockets than for his own blood." He turned to Capuzi. "My stepson is no fool, Chero. If he were what Grecco says, would he be here? Give him time to prove what he says is the truth. If he can produce Grecco, or the proof that Tony took the money, then the matter rests." "Like hell it does!" Brod interjected. "Even if Grecco did rob Sonny blind, proving it doesn’t mean squat. Terranova could still be a cop!" "Yeah, and I could also be the second coming. It’s about as likely," Vince retorted. "With respect, don Capuzi," he began, turning to the head of the table, "let’s stop wasting everyone’s time, here. If you’re going to kill me, then do it here. Now. At least have the guts to look in my face when you do it." It was a dare Castellano couldn’t refuse. Lightning fast, he drew the sleekly lethal automatic from under his suit coat, thumbing off the safety as he did so. The room erupted in chaos as mobsters scrambled out of the way and Capuzi’s bodyguards threw themselves at Castellano. Terranova never stirred, never flinched. He maintained eye contact with Capuzi, not blinking, waiting, completely still. Capuzi ignored the tumult around them, all his attention focused on the dark-haired man before him. He weighed his decision. Terranova hoped his unperturbed calm said clearly Vince knew his life hung in the balance. He was careful toray ray no anxiety. It was an acceptance of whatever came that spoke of either great courage or greater stupidity — and he realized Capuzi knew it wasn’t stupidity. "Convince me that Grecco was a thief," the don said to Vince, then raised his eyes to the room, fixing Castellano — now pinioned by the bodyguards — with a gaze that burned with anger. "And you. If you ever draw a weapon in my presence again, I will kill you where you stand." urneurned to his bodyguard. "Take him outside." Castellano was hauled unceremoniously out of the room by the hired muscle, looking death at Terranova all the way. Aiuppo released his hold on the gun barrel he had held, returning to his seat. Vince stood quietly as the room settled. "How do you know Grecco betrayed the Steelgraves?" came the question from one of the mobsters on Capuzi’s right, directly opposite Vince. Vince held eye contact with Capuzi a split second longer, then turned to face his questioner. "Grecco staged a little torture scene for my benefwhenwhen we were questioning Winfield. I was supposed to hear the questions, but not Winfield’s answers. He kept banging on the poor jerk about the hundred grand. Winfield kept sayin’ he’d given Grecco the grease. So why hadn’t Sonny ever seen his cut? Maybe I’m not a rocket scientist, but I’m not a total idiot, either." "Are you going to listen to this bull?" Michael Brod interrupted. "He planted phony bank records and set up Sonny’s main man. It takes more than some nickel-and-dime bank employee to pull off that kind of frame. Something more like a Federal badge!&q &qu "What Sonny needed, I made it my business to get — whether it was women or information. I bought notes on anyone I figured to be a decent source from any of Sonny’s wiseguys who wanted a return on dead paper. The bank manager was in to me for damn near fifty thousand. That’ll buy a hellova frame." Capuzi’s interest sharpened. It was standard practice among wiseguys who loan sharked to hold delinquent accounts on customers who might be able to trade information for credit. Vince could only hope he was making points for initiative, rather than digging a grave for himself. "Very well," he began, "you have seventy two hours to get to Grecco and to prove he stole the money." There was a stir in the room as this clemency was digested. Vince waited for the othere toe to drop. "But if you are not standing back here within that time with the proof, you will be hunted down like an animal." Vince acknowledged the grace with the slight inclination of his head. "I’ll be here, one way or the other." He returned to his seat, feeling Aiuppo’s approval like a haze in the air around him. He met Brod’s furious gaze across the table, knowing he had made a serious enemy. Aiuppo had just publicly supported him against his lieutenants. There would be little doubt in Brod and Castellano’s minds that the balance of power was on the verge of shifting, and that when it did, it would not be in their favor. Brod, not willing to let the matter die, turned to Capuzi. "You trust that bastard and you’re likely to end up as dead as the Steelgraves," he pointed out, voice surly. "Steelgrave’s pretty-boy managed to walk away from the Feds without so much as an indictment when they busted the wedding. Sonny may have been stupid enough to trust him, but I’m not gonna make the same mistake." Terranova rose from his chair again slowly, putting his hands flat on the table and leaning over the glossy wood toward Brod. "You pop off about Sonny one more time and mine is not the only body that’s gonna be washing up on the Jersey shore in the next few days." Brod took a step forward, only to be brought up short against the stiff arm of Capuzi’s guard. "Did you push him into that transformer?" he snarled "Did he know you were his riotriot when he died?" Terranova straightened, hands clenched in reflexive fists. Aiuppo’s touch on his sleeve was the only thing that stopped him from launching himself at Brod. "When the Feds told him they had him on Patrice’s murder, he walked into that transformer before I could stop him," he said through clenched teeth. "They had the murder on video tape! It was a capital crime. He was gonna get lethal injection." He shook off Aiuppo’s hand and straightened slowly. He let the old, and still deep, pain of Sonny’s death show in his face. "I killed for him. I woulda died for him. But I couldn’t take the rap for him. No, he hadda do Patrice himself, god dammit. It was fucking stupid!" he slammed the flat of his palm against the polished walnut, causing several at the table to start. "If he’d let me deal with Patrice, he’d be here now. I was the crown prince of Atlantic City. You think I had anything to gain by watching him smoke? Look at me now… I’m just some wiseguy with no protection, no future, no ‘family’. None of you would touch me after Sonny." He met eyes around the table, calling them on nearly a decade of snubs and freeze-outs. "I got independent action, now. Legitimate businesses to run. None of you have anything I need. Or want. I’ll get you Grecco. Then I’m getting the hell outta New York. If you’ll excuse me, I got a rat to catch." He squared his shoulders and tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, then stalked toward the door with all the menace he could muster, sparing a contemptuous glance at Brod as he passed. Brod moved as though to strike him, halted again by Capuzi’s guard. Vince felt Aiuppo’s stare between his shoulder blades like the point of a knife. He knew he had caught the old man by surprise, declaring his independence as he had. But he was damned if he was going to let Aiuppo have his way without a fight. And it was just barely possible that his expression of disinterest in his mob connections would serve to allay the fears of Brod and Castellano that he was after their action.