himself well? They'd had a nice night, hadn't they? I pay for a great room, he thought bitterly, I give her a great fucking time, and she runs away from me? What's she so scared of? No one's here. He glowered at an elderly woman who stood admiring her small dog as he deposited a tiny curl of shit onto a piece of tissue paper.
Then he eased along the avenue, actually enjoying the morning but feeling an odd new pain in his back. All that screwing last night, he thought proudly, pulled something. But it'd been worth it. Would he ever be able to do it again like that? Why not? He still had some of the Chinese tea in the apartment. And more on the way! Thinking of it put him in a better mood. He'd look at the paper with breakfast. Eggs, he could make eggs, for God's sake. Read about the Jets. Bill Parcells. Call Ellie and listen to her babble about the azalea bushes.
As he turned the corner to Sixty-third Street, a tall man carrying the New York Post appeared in front of him. 'Like to introduce myself, sir.' He extended his hand. 'Name's Tommy.'
Charlie gave the man a vague nod but kept walking. Kelly the doorman stood in front of the apartment building flagging down a taxi. In and out of the heat all day, always a smile.
'Sir?' called the tall man, following Charlie.
He turned around in irritation. 'What?'
The man slid the newspaper back, revealing a black semiautomatic pistol. 'Get in the car.'
Which had slid up behind Charlie silently, another man getting out of the back door, a third in a green baseball jacket behind the steering wheel.
'Hey, fellows,' said Charlie agreeably, 'you got the wrong guy here.'
The driver in the green jacket lifted up his sunglasses at the same moment as the first man slipped a tight hand around Charlie's arm. 'I don't think so,' he said politely.
They drove downtown, with Tommy looking through Charlie's billfold and finding the Vista del Mar papers in the breast pocket of his coat. His hands were cuffed tightly. The driver introduced himself as Morris.
'We didn't expect your girlfriend to go running into the park.'
Charlie stayed silent.
'Ran pretty fast, too.'
'I guess so.'
'You'll help us out, won't you?'
'This guy's name is Charles Ravich,' announced Tommy. 'We have his home address, work address, and this looks like-some kind of vacation place in New Jersey.'
'See if he has a wife.'
Tommy consulted the Vista del Mar papers. 'Elizabeth.'
'What else? Keep looking.'
'Phone in his pocket.'
'Charles,' asked Morris. 'Does she have your number?'
'Yes.'
'Turn it on, Tommy. See if she calls him.'
'Hey, hey!' cried Tommy, finding the photo of the boyfriend and waving it in front of Morris. 'Look at this.'
'What kind of animal would do that?' Morris shook his head. 'Fucking barbaric.'
They drove south for five minutes, then cut west on Fourteenth Street and then one block south into the meatpacking district. There they stopped and hustled him out of the car in front of a rusty door in a wall. I'm going to get out of this, Ellie, he told himself, don't worry.
'You got back trouble?' Morris asked, watching Charlie.
'I'm fine,' he said.
Inside the building, they pushed him up some cement steps and then across what appeared to be an old factory floor. He noticed a rotten mattress to one side. In front of him stood a large worktable, some utility lamps, and three heavy chairs. Sitting in one was a man of about sixty.
'You go… here,' said Morris, pushing Charlie onto the stained, chopped-up table and cuffing one of his arms to a ring. 'This is Mr. Ravich,' he said.
'Hello, Mr. Ravich.' The older man lifted a hand.
'Who are you?' said Charlie. 'Tony?'
Morris smiled. 'I told you we got the right guy.'
Tony stood up. 'Mr. Ravich, I can see you're a successful businessman.'
He shrugged.
The phone in Tommy's hand trilled. He handed it to Morris. 'Yeah?' He listened. 'It's her,' he said.
'Let me have it.' Tony took the phone. 'You got my five million dollars now, Christina?… Didn't you see what happened to your last boyfriend?… I don't care about that-I want it in three hours. You've wasted a lot of my time, you know that? Years. And what is this fucking IRS shit? I have to meet my wife for lunch. If I don't have something by eleven o'clock, your new boyfriend will be something you can put on a sandwich. Then we'll go after your mother, okay? We know she's home now, we know where she is in her little pink bedroom
… Don't call me that… And don't call anybody down there… If my guys don't get my-It's not bullshit. My guy says she's watering her lawn right now, bunch of flowers climbing up the garage… Now you believe me?' He looked at Charlie. 'She wants to talk to you.'
Tony held the phone to Charlie's ear. 'I'm sorry,' cried Christina. 'I'm sorry.'
'Tell them where-'
Tony pulled the phone away. 'You call back in ten minutes. Ten minutes… You're going to help us out here.'
Now Tony called another number that Morris had given him. 'Yes, hello, Mrs. Ravich?… This is the Bell Atlantic office, yes. Just checking the line, ma'am.' He nodded at Charlie. 'Everything's fine
… We had some workmen in the vicinity. Yeah. Thank you.' Tony hung up. 'Sounded like a nice lady. So, Charlie, here's the situation. We have you and we know where your wife is. We don't have Christina, but we know where her mother is. She knows where the five million is that she stole from me, but she isn't saying.'
I don't want to tell them, Charlie thought, but they've got Ellie. And Christina, or whoever she is, couldn't care less. 'It's in two large boxes in the backseat of an old blue Mustang convertible in her mother's garage,' he said. 'She told me that.'
'No, it's not,' answered Tony. 'We've been through that place like mice. There's no car like that. We found a bunch of antique dolls and things, but nothing like that. I know. I been on this for months.'
'I can't help you,' said Charlie. He noticed Tommy carrying in two large toolboxes.
'Sure you can,' responded Tony, smiling as he looked at Charlie's card.
'How?'
'I'm seeing here that you're the chief executive officer of a company named Teknetrix. Sounds like big money to me. You're the deep pockets. Your girlfriend stole my money and you're going to pay me. She can pay you back herself.'
'You guys've made a big mistake,' Charlie said in a let's-forget-everything voice. 'I don't have that kind of money. And I don't know where your money is. I thought it was in the air-conditioner boxes.'
Morris pulled a drill out of the toolbox and plugged it in.
'It's just money,' Charlie added.
'It's not just money.' Tony shook his head, tired of being misunderstood. 'It's a lot of things, Charles. It's the dishonesty, the lack of respect. It's the fact that it wasn't my money, not exactly. I had to pay that out of other funds. Which set me back, you know? Another little problem developed… that also cost me money. Also, we thought it was somebody else for three years. A stand-up guy named Frankie. He knew we wouldn't believe him when he said he didn't do it.' He nodded at Morris. 'My friend here is very persuasive. We got some information out of her boyfriend and he didn't want to give it to us.'
'Tony, Tony,' said Charlie, pulling against his handcuff experimentally. 'Let's be reasonable.'
The cell phone rang again. 'Yeah?' said Tony. 'Just a-' He held the phone out. 'Okay.'
Morris started the drill.
'You hear that, sweetie?' asked Tony, waving at Morris to stop. 'That's right. We'll do that to your mother if you don't help me out here.' He handed the phone to Charlie.
