run at one time. 'Am I about to get cleaned out?'
'Right down to your socks, boss. Deal.'
By the time Fiora and Manzerio returned an hour later, Mason was down two hundred and fifty dollars. They watched while Mickey shuffled the cards as if he'd been born with them in his hands, fanning them, making bridges, palming top cards and bottom cards, and marking the corners of other cards with his thumbnail.
'Hey, kid,' Fiora said, 'you get tired of working for this stiff, I got a place for you at one of our tables.'
'He can't quit,' Mason said. 'He's got to give me a chance to win my money back.'
'Those words are the secret of my success,' Fiora said. 'That, and never trusting anybody, especially a schmuck lawyer who thinks he can come into my place and flimflam me like I was a refugee from a Shriners convention.'
'I told you the flash drive was blank and that I'd get you the real one. I'm not trying to con you.'
'Then you are a dumber cocksucker than I gave you credit for.' Fiora stuck his hand out to Manzerio, who gave him a stack of papers. 'Tony took another tour of your office. Seems you forgot to mention the copy of my bank records you printed out, you stupid fuck! I ought to have Tony beat you right up to the limit!'
Fiora's face turned purple as he bit off each word, casting flecks of spittle like confetti at a parade. Mason hung his head sheepishly, letting Fiora's outburst pass.
'Well, what the fuck do you have to tell me now, Rabbi Bullshit?'
'Look, I'm sorry,' Mason began. 'I'm out of my league here. It was my insurance policy, but that's it. You've got everything now. Let's finish our business and I'll get out of here.'
'You'll be carried out of here! Why should I trade you anything but your fucking life?'
'Because you don't kill people, that's why. You said so yourself. I've got to have my files back or I'm out of business. You need your files back or you're out of business. It's not very complicated.'
Fiora's natural color seeped back into his face as he rolled the papers into a cylinder and thumped them against his palm. 'Don't fuck with me, Mason. I'm telling you, do not fuck with me. You got that, Rabbi?'
He smacked Mason's head with the rolled papers. Mason grabbed Fiora's wrist and pulled his arm down to the table, Fiora wincing, as much in shock as in pain. Manzerio took a step toward Mason, who released his grip. Fiora yanked his wrist from Mason's hand while motioning Manzerio to stay where he was with his other.
'I got it, Ed,' Mason said so softly that Manzerio couldn't hear him. 'Now you get this. You hit me again, and you can spend the rest of your fucking life wondering who's going to end up with that flash drive.'
Fiora held Mason's sharp stare. 'You got balls, Mason. I give you that. I give you that. Tony, have that four- eyed geek bring the computer in here. Let's get this over with.'
A short time later, Mickey booted up the computer and searched the hard drive for its contents. 'It's got everything but the bank records, boss. You want me to remove the hard drive?'
'Give Fiora the other flash drive first, and let him see what's on it.'
Mickey un-tucked his shirt and reached behind to the small of his back where he had taped the drive. He popped it into the computer and stood back as Fiora's bank accounts flashed across the screen.
'Good enough?' Mason asked.
'Good enough,' Fiora said. 'You can pull the hard drive out. Tony, give the kid the tools.'
Mason said, 'I'm glad we were able to work this out.'
'Don't press your luck,' Fiora told him.
'There is one other thing,' Mason said.
'It better not be another flash drive.'
'It's not. It's a favor. The one you said you owed me for stopping Beth Harrell from shooting you.'
'Mason, you are too much. You bust my balls on this bank account shit, and then you got even more balls to ask me for a favor.'
'I saved your life last night. That was a favor. This was business. You owe me the favor.'
Fiora sighed, trapped by his own curious ethics. 'What is it?'
'I want my client released on bail.'
'Sorry, I can't do it.'
'I don't believe you. You're wired into the prosecutor's office. That's how you knew they were going to offer Blues a plea bargain. Hell, it may have been your idea to begin with. I think I may know who has Cullan's files. I can't get to them myself and it's just as risky for you. Blues can get them. If there's nothing in your file that links you to Cullan's murder, you can have it. No copies and no questions. My client is innocent. I need those files to prove it.'
'You aren't asking for much, are you?'
'I need an edge, I take it,' Mason said. 'The assistant prosecutor and I are meeting with Judge Carter on Monday morning at eight o'clock. I want Blues released on bail before ten. Make it happen.'
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
'That was extremely cool, dude,' Mickey said.
They had just pulled away from the curb at the casino, and Mickey was fiddling with the radio, looking for some celebration tunes.
'Maybe. I just conspired with Ed Fiora to improperly influence a judge to get Blues out on bail. Fiora probably has the whole thing on tape. That doesn't sound so cool to me.'
'Then why did you make the play?'
'It's the only one I had.'
'That's bad public relations, man.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Let me tell you a story. I was conceived on the Fourth of July under a lucky star. My mother, Libby, spotted it over my father's shoulder from the backseat of his ragtop Firebird.'
'I like the car better than the story.'
'Dude! Chill and pay attention. My mother said the star was Altair and that it was found in the wing of the constellation Aquila the Eagle. Aquila was the mythical bird who helped Jupiter crush the Titans and seize control of the universe.'
'So you're Aquila and I'm Jupiter?'
'You tell me. Anyway, Altair was a shepherd in love with another star, Vega, who was stranded on the western side of the Milky Way. Once a year, on the seventh night of the seventh moon, the lovers united across the heavens.'
'So are you the son of a shepherd or the son of a star?'
'Libby was always a little vague about whether Altair started out as an eagle's wing and ended up a shepherd or vice versa. I figured he was an early cross-dresser, kind of a mythological RuPaul.'
'No doubt the kind of role model that made you what you are today,' Mason said.
'My mother told me the story the first time I asked about my father. I may have been a kid, but I knew the difference between an answer and a story. So I asked again. She told me I had two choices. Either my mother got knocked up in the backseat of a Firebird on a hot July night sticky enough to melt bugs together, and my father, who had great shoulders but no spine, ran out on us. Or I was conceived under a lucky star and I was destined for great deeds and greater love.'
'Which one did you choose?'
'Adventure and babes. Either you just conspired with Ed Fiora to improperly influence a judge to get Blues out of jail, or you simply asked a friend if he'd put in a good word with the prosecutor to consider a reasonable bail for Blues. That's public relations.'
Mason shook his head. 'Don't ever run for office, Mickey.'
'Why not, man?'
'You just might win.'
