named Angelo who had played defensive end for another Joe P., Joe Paterno at Penn State.
The phone on the desk rang, and even though he was expecting it, the sound startled him. God it was loud. It rang ten times before he heard voices at the top of the stairs.
'I know it's the middle of the night. Don't worry about it, go back to bed.'
Ray heard someone come down the stairs, and come across the foyer, and come in the room, a silver-haired guy about five seven, wearing a bathrobe and black glasses with big frames that reminded him of Aristotle Onassis. Joe P. reached over the desk for the phone and brought it up to his face and said, 'This better be fucking important.'
Ray said, 'It is.'
Joe P. turned and said, 'You have any idea who I am?'
He put the phone back in the cradle.
Ray drew the Walther PPK and said, 'Who else's in the house?'
'My wife.'
Ray said 'What about Angelo?'
'He don't stay with us.'
A voice from upstairs said, 'Joe, who you talking to?'
'I'm on the fucking phone, will you go back to bed.'
Ray said, 'That's no way to talk to the little lady.'
Joe P. said, 'What do you want, the silverware, a TV? Help yourself and get the fuck out of here.'
He talked tough for an old man in a bathrobe. Ray said, 'Where's Joey?'
'I don't know. Why don't you call him. I'll give you his number.'
Ray pulled the hammer back on the PPK. 'Let's start over, okay? Pretend I just walked in, haven't said a word. Where's Joey?'
Joe P said, 'You think you can come in here, intimidate me in my own house? I got twenty clowns like you work for me.'
Ray crossed the room and placed the barrel of the Walther against Joe P.'s cheek, felt teeth under wrinkled skin and said, 'Then you know I'll shoot you dead, eh goomba? Pull the trigger, blow your fucking head off. Then go upstairs, find out what Mrs P. knows. See if she wants to talk, be a little more co-operative. I started with you because I figured you'd understand the gravity, the serious nature of the situation,' he said, giving it a little bureaucratic embellishment.
'Who you with?'
'Want me to say it again?'
'What do you want him for?'
'I want to talk to him.'
Joe P. didn't say anything. He probably thought he was still thirty and in shape. That's the way it worked. In his head, Ray still thought he was twenty-one. 'All right, you don't want to talk, let's go upstairs.'
Joe P. leaned back against the desk. Could barely hold himself up. He coughed and grabbed his chest, struggling, trying to stay on his feet but couldn't, and went down on the floor, legs kicking for a few seconds, then he stopped moving, eyes bulging out of their sockets, staring up at Ray. The clock next to the phone said 4:23 a.m.
Chapter Twenty-two
McCabe drove up the hill and pulled in and parked next to the house. He carried the groceries into the kitchen and put them away. He went through the main room to the bathroom and knocked on the door. She didn't say anything. He put the key in the lock and turned it and pushed the handle down and opened the door a crack and swung it all the way open. She was standing at the window looking at him.
'You want to get out of here? Give me the number,' McCabe said.
She looked angry, didn't say anything. He'd be angry too, cooped up in this little room, like he was in Rebibbia. That was the idea, wasn't it? 'You like it in there, enjoying yourself?' He reached for the handle, started to close the door.
She said, 'Okay.'
'You can come out,' McCabe said, 'but try anything like you did before, that's it. You're going to grow old in there.'
She did and he led her to the dining table in the main room and sat next her. Gave her a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote down a number and handed it to him. He took her cell phone out of his pocket, turned it on and it started beeping. She had gotten at least a dozen calls. Angela stared at it but didn't say anything. He dialed the number. Heard it ring a couple times. Heard Mazara say, ' Pronto.'
McCabe said, 'Looking for Angela?' He glanced at her. 'Say something.'
'Roberto…'
She said it just the way he wanted her to — helpless, afraid.
'Where are you?'
McCabe said. 'You want her back, it's going to cost you five hundred thousand euros.'
Mazara said, 'What is this?'
'What do you think it is?' McCabe said.
'I talk to Angela.'
'You can talk,' McCabe said, 'when you bring the money.'
'I don't have it,' Mazara said.
'Kidnap someone, rob a bank, you'll figure something out,' McCabe said. 'You've got forty-eight hours.' Give him enough time but not too much.
Mazara said, 'You do anything to her…'
McCabe closed the phone, cut him off. He didn't want to hear Mazara's hard-guy threats. Just wanted to hook him and let him hang for a while.
Angela said, 'What did he say?'
'He's going to think about it,' McCabe said.
'He said that?' She shook her head. 'I don't believe you.'
'No, he didn't say that. He didn't say anything.'
'What about you, McCabe?'
She gave him a sultry look, kept it on him and said, 'Would you pay to have me back?'
'Why? You don't mean anything to me.'
She was pouting now, looking offended, and McCabe reminded himself she was playing him like she did the first time, and he was falling for it again. He wasn't that dumb, was he?
They went in the kitchen and had lunch at 3:00 in the afternoon, bread, salami, Caprese salad and warm Chardonnay that wasn't bad, McCabe sitting across the table from her, occasionally glancing at her but not talking. There wasn't much to say. She ate everything, drank two glasses of wine and finished the meal with a piece of bread.
When he was finished, she picked up the dishes and took them to the sink and washed them. He stood next to her and dried them like they were a married couple in their country home. But he was alert, on guard, didn't trust this sudden change in attitude, watching her, making sure she didn't reach for a knife.
McCabe said, 'I'm going into Bagnaia.' He wanted to check it out, see if there was a better place to meet Mazara and make the exchange.
She didn't say anything, but turned her head and looked at him with big sad eyes and pouty lips.
'You can take me with you,' she said.
He considered it for a few seconds and realized he was slipping into the stupid zone again. He said, 'No way.'
'Then leave me here. Don't lock me in that room. Where do you think I will go?'
Anywhere. To the neighbor's to make a phone call. To La Quercia. To Viterbo. Back to Rome. He held her in
