“Why did you talk to him?”
“Look, I don?t trust none of this, okay? I mean, O?Brian says he wants to bullshit with you. Lay off,
he says, I promised him I?d be alone. It?s one on one, he says. So I keep an eye on you when you
come down in the morning, I call to tell him where everything?s at, he says go to Benny4s arid wait
until you leave. I didn?t have time to nix him, for Chrissakes.”
One of the dogs let out the damnedest sound I ever heard. It was a cry of agony that seemed to go on
forever. My eyes were drawn to the pit.
The old fighter had the little hog dog by the thigh and was shaking his head while the newcomer was
trying desperately to back away.
“He?s got my boy fanged,” Nesbitt said.
“What?s fanged?”
“Bit right through his thigh and impaled his own lip. He can?t let go, that ugly one can?t.”
The referee cautiously approached the fighting animals and took a stick and started prying the old
warrior?s jaws loose. I?d seen enough.
“Look, can we go outside and talk? This definitely is not my thing.”
“Weak stomach?”
“Yeah, right.”
“They take a little time out here, when the ref has to use the breaking stick like that.”
“So what?d O?Brian say when you called him?” I asked.
“Nothin?. Nobody was around. Some shrimpers, a guy trying to make city marina in a sailboat. That
was it.”
“What time was that?”
“You left at ten-oh-five.”
“You?d be up shit creek if I turned the time around a little, wouldn?t you?”
“Where you think I am right now? Up shit creek without the proverbial, no less, is where I?m at.
Everybody?s on my ass, okay? The locals, the Fed, the Tagliani family, what?s left of them. I mean, I
got everybody on my ass but the fuckin? marines.
“Somebody threaten you?”
“I don?t have to hear from the pope, pal. I was O?Brian?s chief button. My job was keepin? him alive.
I flicked up. You think I?m gonna get a second chance? O?Brian was family, he was son-in-law to old
man Franco.”
“Maybe that?s what they wanted.”
“What the hell?s that mean?”
