each victory. Played out over a long period, and the odds are you’ll end up slightly ahead.
Played out on a single race, like the Hurricane Cup, and it’s mostly just to cover your ass.
Which meant Christopher Bonaventura put out the word, at least to the people he didn’t want to anger. Or was putting out his own money as insurance.
Either way, I’d done my job.
“Good work,” I said.
“That bit of information came steep,” Nate said. “My guy, he’s got a brother in prison. Trumped-up charge.”
“I’m not busting someone out of prison,” I said. “And neither is Slade Switchblade.”
“Right,” Nate said. “Is Fiona around?”
“Nate,” I said.
“Right,” Nate said. “I’ll talk to Fiona later. Whatever. We’ll work it out.”
“I appreciate all of this,” I said.
“Happy to help,” Nate said. And it sounded like he really meant it.
“Do me a favor,” I said. “Tonight. Leave me a tape of the recording you made at my place and then get out of town. See if you can take everyone you talked to out of town, too.”
“Bro, I can handle myself.”
“Domenic Strabo isn’t just a foot soldier. You drove one of the heads of the Calabria mafia tonight and, probably, someone linked to Al Qaeda. If either are smart enough to piece together anything before they wind up in a cell, you’re likely to wake up from a dirt nap.”
“Oh,” Nate said.
“There’s a couple thousand dollars cut into my mattress. Take it and have a lovely vacation with all of your friends. You need more money, call me. But don’t come back until I tell you you’re safe.”
It wasn’t exactly that I was afraid the Mafia might come after Nate; more that I wasn’t sure what Alex Kyle might do if this all blew up and he remained standing.
Not that that was something I thought was in the cards for our new friend.
“Okay,” Nate said. “But remember to call me this time. Last time you sent me out of town you left me in Fort Lauderdale for weeks.”
“That was miscommunication,” I said.
“That was no communication,” Nate said.
“I’m working on that,” I said. “Now go.”
I hung up with Nate, filled Fi in on the salient points-except for the part about the prison break, which I knew she’d gladly take part in and would happily begin planning like she was Martha Stew-art with bomb-making skills- and called Sam. “Mikey,” he said, “glad you called. We need to talk.”
I could barely hear Sam over the sound of gushing wind. “Where are you?”
“Just coming in off the Pax,” he said. “Listen, change of plans.”
“You don’t know the plan,” I said.
“I know my plan,” he said. “One of Gennaro’s guys is in the hospital.”
“What happened?”
“I had to break his arm.”
“Okay,” I said.
“And he’s probably going to have a bit of a speech impediment thing for a while,” Sam said. “Nothing major. You ever bite the tip of your tongue off?”
“No.”
“Heals right back. Like a lizard’s tail. Anyway, we’re heading back in now from another run. Looks like I’m on the team tomorrow. For safety reasons.”
“Okay,” I said. His voice sounded slightly thick, like he was battling the flu. “You all right?”
“These Swan boats? They’re not much for smoothness. Not exactly like being out on the QE Two.”
“Dramamine didn’t help?”
“Turns out Dramamine and beer aren’t the best combination before going out for a spin with Gennaro and his crew.” He gave a wet cough and then continued. “You were right about the bugs. I swept the place and found ten of them. And not cheap ones, either. Dinino had that place covered. He knew Gennaro would turn to someone. I left them where they were, told Gennaro to just stay cool, keep doing what he was doing, that we were in control of the situation.”
“We are,” I said.
“We are?”
I filled him in. “What did you hear from Jimenez?”
“A lot of bitching.”
“Anything else?”
“What Nate says jibes. Jimenez says rumor is Dinino is in big. Gambling debts from betting on his own team,” Sam said.
“Gennaro was winning,” I said.
“That’s the thing,” Sam said. “Jimenez thinks he’s been betting on them to lose.”
“And the pictures?”
“They want their money. These guys will bring the pain one way or the other. And that’s what they traffic in, you know. Sweet guys.”
“Well,” I said, “they’re gonna get their money.” I explained to Sam what Barry was going to do tomorrow. And now that I had Strabo’s credit card, I knew there’d be at least one high limit charge going through.
“That’s the sort of thing that ends up on the news,” Sam said.
“All the better,” I said. I looked at my watch. It was already late. “What happened on the water?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, “about that. Anyone asks, my name is Viv Finley.”
“Chuck isn’t available?”
Sam cleared his throat. “That’s what we need to talk about.”
13
In order to become a Navy SEAL, you typically need to spend thirty months training under the most intense physical and mental stress imaginable. You’re not just learning how to parachute out of planes, dive into rough seas holding an M-14 sniper rifle, swim into live combat, blow up boats and fight hand-to-hand, you’re learning how to do all of that at one time. There’s a reason only the best of the best qualify to be SEALs.
Sam Axe was a SEAL.
But that was about a decade and a thousand beers ago.
Now, he’s a former SEAL, which means he’s got all the know-how, all of the training and will, but his fast- twitch muscles are now more like medium-fast-twitch muscles.
Still, sitting aboard the Pax Bellicosa as it banked into the open seas reminded Sam of his old training days. The best part of being a SEAL was the whole teamwork aspect, knowing someone always had your back. It was also fun to go into enemy countries to attack militant forces, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun if the rest of the team was a bunch of assholes. No, Sam thought, the spray of the ocean splashing into his face, it was always better if everyone was invested.
Which is why when Sam got on the boat with Gennaro’s team, he could tell immediately that one of the six crew members, in addition to Gennaro, wasn’t quite with the program.
“Who is this?” he asked Gennaro. He had a thick Irish accent. Gennaro was the only actual Italian on board. His team was cobbled from around the country. The best money could buy… a point Sam thought was probably true in both good and bad ways.
“A friend,” Gennaro said. “He’s providing some security.” Gennaro explained that the family was concerned about kidnappings and such, which was a sly bit of truth from Gennaro. The kid was learning.
“Chuck Finley,” Sam said and extended his hand to the man, who actually recoiled a step before shaking
