'Sure. The one on top of the table-the one the kids can turn off if they want, right? And you keep another one out of sight, maybe under the table or something. And you let that one run all the time. So even when they turn off the first one, you still have everything on tape.'
Immaculata put the two fingernails back against her cheek, thinking it over. 'That would be dishonest,' she told me.
'Better to let some scumbag walk away laughing?' I asked.
She waited a second or two. 'No,' she said. And a smile broke across her lovely face. 'That's what we'll do.'
Max made an 'I told you so' gesture to his woman, now smiling himself. Immaculata reached over and squeezed my hand, and Max's smile broadened.
Immaculata was the first woman ever to come into our clubhouse. She'd be the last. Like all truly dangerous beasts, Max would mate for life.
I left them with each other and went in the back to make my call.
32
IT WAS just getting dark as I walked through the catacombs behind the warehouse. The cellar was one of many that ran under all the buildings on the block. The City Planning Office sold me a set of the plans years ago, and the Mole figured out how we could make all the basements connect to each other by drilling a few holes. It took almost a month for us to finish, but once you got to the warehouse basement, you could get out a dozen different ways. We originally did it just in case we had to leave quickly, but once we were under there, the Mole showed me how we could tap into the telephone lines in the other buildings. The warehouse is owned by some corporation Mama Wong set up, but it belongs to Max. His temple is upstairs, and the rest of the space is for whatever we need. For Mama, it's a warehouse. For me, it's the post office.
I found the metal footlocker, rooted through it past the stuff we kept there-coats, hats, glasses, anything to make you look different. I found the field telephone and the set of alligator clips. I walked through our cellar into the next basement. Above us was a firm of Chinese architects, and they never worked late. I clipped the field phone onto the junction points the Mole had shown me and I got a dial tone right away. I used the little box that looked like the face of a calculator and punched out the number Julio had written down, lit a cigarette, and waited.
I didn't have long to wait-she must have been sitting by the phone. 'Hello.' It was the redhead.
'Hey, baby,' I leered into the mouthpiece, 'you free tomorrow night?' She got it right away.
'Sure. What time will you pick me up?'
'I'm going to be working late. I'll meet you, okay?'
'Where?'
'Same place-nine o clock,' I told her, and unplugged the phone.
I put everything back where it was supposed to be and walked back rough the cellar. Our clubhouse was empty. I fired up the Plymouth, hit the garage-door switch, and backed out into the alley. I got out to go back inside and close up, but I saw the garage door slide down. Max was on the job.
I drove over to Mama's. I needed some food for Pansy and an alibi for tomorrow night.
33
IT WAS past midnight before I was ready to go back to the office. If Mama didn't hear from me by the same time tomorrow, she'd know the meeting had been a bust. Mama would tell Max, and call Blumberg to get a bondsman over to Arraignments in Queens. If I wasn't in jail, Max would go see Julio.
One more call to make and I could bring Pansy her Chinese food. I found a pay phone off Atlantic Avenue.
A young woman with a sweet West Indian accent answered. 'A amp; R Wholesalers. We never close.'
'Is Jacques around?' I asked her.
'Please hold one moment, sir.'
It was cold in the phone booth, but the man's voice was as sunny as the Islands.
'Yes, my friend. May we be of service?'
'Jacques, this weather is really turning ugly out here, you know? I think I can move some of those portable electric heaters if I can get a good price.'
'We may have some in stock, mahn-I'll have to check the inventory. And the price…it depends on how many you want, like always.'
'If I can get some tonight, I'll take a dozen and try them out.'
'That's not a big order, my friend. The more you take, the less they cost.'
'I understand. But I'm not ready to risk a lot of capital-I have to see how they move this year, okay?'
'Whatever you want, mahn-we are here to serve. You are familiar with our line?'
'Sure. Now, look, I only want new merchandise, still in the original cartons.'
'Of course, of course. You understand this too affects the price.'
'I understand.'
'Now, we have a good supply of the new automatic models-the ones which shut off by themselves if they tip over?'
'No, I only want the old-style. They throw plenty of heat.'
'Yes, my friend,' said Jacques, 'but many customers prefer the advanced safety features.'
'The new ones are too complicated for me. I want a product I can trust.'
'We have just what you want, mahn,' he assured me. 'Do you at least want the ones that run on both twelve hundred and fifteen hundred watts?'
'Yeah, that's a good feature. Can I pick them up tonight?'
'We never close, my friend,' he said. We both hung up.
I drove down Atlantic toward Queens. Soon it turned into a West Indian neighborhood. I turned left on Buffalo Avenue, past the abandoned bar on the corner, until I saw the storefront restaurant. There was a sign for Tower Isle Jamaican Meat Patties in the window, a pair of black Cadillacs parked in front. I turned into the driveway and pulled around the back. When I had the Plymouth 's headlights aimed at the back door, I flashed the lights three times and turned them off.
The door opened and a man came out, both hands in the pockets of a big leather apron. I had the window down and my hands on the sill by the time he got close enough to see me.
'Jacques is expecting me,' I told him.
The man said nothing. He backed away, still facing me, until he was inside the door. I lit a cigarette and got ready to do some waiting.
I was just lighting another when the door opened again. The leather apron came out first and walked over to me again. He said nothing. From behind him I could see another man-tall, with a little snap-brim hat. The other man was carrying a shopping bag in one hand.
