Black eyes flattened to blacker slits in the afternoon gray.
“He was peddling dope on the West Side,” I said. “I’m thinking you were acting as his muscle. Maybe running the whole operation through him.”
A gust of wind rumbled across the lot. Johnny Apple’s voice rumbled with it. “What makes you think that?”
“Lee never could have held down that territory without someone like the Outfit as backup. When Rita started sniffing around the Korean, you got worried she was on to your operation. Why else put a tail on her?”
Johnny looked at Rita. Rita looked at me. DeLuca stared at the crushed remains of the cigar at his feet.
“What do you want?” Apple said.
“The Korean’s dead. But I think you know that. The last shipment of drugs he was supposed to take is also gone. I’m thinking you know that as well.”
“Who killed the Korean?” Apple said.
“You mean who took your dope? I don’t know the answer to that.”
“We’re ignoring Ms. Alvarez.” It was DeLuca, checking back into the conversation with a smile meant to lubricate.
“Rita’s not doing a story on your drug operation,” I said. “At least she wasn’t as of this morning.”
“She was talking to Lee,” Apple said.
“The Korean was running a side business.”
I glanced over at Rita, who stepped up.
“Mr. Lee was acting as a middleman,” she said. “He would get no-bid contracts for medical supplies through a contact in City Hall and funnel them to a number of small companies. Lee delivered the supplies through his own trucking company and took a cut on both ends.”
“And why do we care about this?” Apple said.
I ignored Johnny this time and waited on his boss.
“We care,” DeLuca said, “because there is something larger at play. Something that Mr. Kelly believes is more important than anything we’ve discussed so far. Something we need to know about.”
Vinny DeLuca was old but hadn’t lost a step. Which was a good thing to know.
“We have information,” I said, “that ties the Korean and his trucking company into what’s going on over on the West Side.”
Johnny Apple’s hand went under his coat, and he looked up in the sky, as if choppers were about to descend on all of us. DeLuca put a light touch on his bodyguard’s arm.
“Chili, go take a walk.” DeLuca spoke without looking behind him. Chili turned and walked back to the car. “Go ahead, Mr. Kelly.”
I told him about Danielson. About the note with Lee’s address on it, and Silver Line Trucking. I left out the mayor. DeLuca waited.
“I was in the Korean’s cellar,” I said, “before the fences went up. Found a few thousand body bags inside.” I nodded toward Rita. “If there’s a connection to the pathogen release, Rita’s gonna run the story.”
“And, in the process, implicate us as working with some sort of terrorists?” DeLuca raised an eyebrow.
I could feel Johnny move again, drifting a little wider, getting some shooting room, no doubt.
“Perhaps not directly… ”
“But it would be inevitable,” DeLuca said.
“Unless she took steps to keep you out of it, probably.”
Now we had gotten to it. The old man seemed almost relieved. “What’s your proposition, Kelly?”
“You tell us what you know about the Korean. We keep the drug angle, and your involvement, out of this entire thing.”
“What makes you think I know anything about Mr. Lee? And especially his side business?”
“Because you know everything about everyone you do business with. And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have some information.”
DeLuca seemed to ponder that, until a second thought struck him.
“How about this? We shoot you both. Could have you at the bottom of the river within the hour and be home for a nice bowl of minestrone.”
I waved my hand once over my head. A car horn beeped from the salt yards behind me.
“Rodriguez?” DeLuca said.
I nodded.
“Tell him to come in. It’s getting cold out here.” The old man bundled his coat close around him, walked back to his car, and climbed inside. The Cadillac pulled away, toward the corrugated shed at the very back of the lot.
CHAPTER 47
We reconvened just inside the front door. Chili hit a switch, and a single fixture dropped a blue bowl of light onto a table with five chairs.
“Sit down,” DeLuca said.
I took a seat beside Rita. Rodriguez sat across from us.
“This is where we keep excess merchandise from our various business interests.” DeLuca gestured to the stacks of crates and boxes piled up in the shadows. “All completely legit, Detective.”
Rodriguez didn’t respond. A heavy rifle with a scope was resting on the table between his arms. I could hear movement around us. Chili ducked back in with an espresso in a brown cup and saucer. DeLuca took a sip and rubbed his lips together.
“Our arrangement with the Korean,” the old man said.
“What about it?” I said.
“We need to be made whole.”
“I didn’t take your dope, Vinny.”
He held up a hand, as if to quiet a petulant child. “I was talking to the detective.”
“What is it you think I can do?” Rodriguez said.
“You provided the Korean with his product in the first place. It’s simply a matter of replacing what was lost.”
I watched a small vein pulse in Rodriguez’s temple and felt Rita’s cold heartbeat in the seat next to me.
“How long have you known?” the detective said.
DeLuca picked up his coffee cup, thought better of it, and put the cup down with a quiet clink. “Three months, give or take. We knew the Korean was burned but figured it might take a while to play out.”
“And meanwhile there was still business to be done,” I said.
“Always business to be done. Now, are you ready to hear my proposal?”
“I don’t care about your drug business, Vinny. And I don’t think Detective Rodriguez has any interest in replacing your lost product.”
DeLuca held out his hand. “Let me see your address.”
I pushed it across the table. DeLuca rubbed it flat.
“We had two men watching the Korean’s store that day. They went inside just before you got there, Kelly. Lee was dead. As you know, the dope was already gone. My men saw the body bags. Left them where they were and took off.” DeLuca pushed the address back toward my side of the table. “Now, we want to do our part.”
“And what would your part be?”
“You think I like these raghead cocksuckers attacking this city?” A sip of espresso. “I don’t.”
“You sound like our mayor.”
“Maybe I am.” DeLuca liked that and took another sip.
“If you want to help, get me a lead on who Lee was selling the bags to,” I said.
“Not that easy.”
“What do you want?”
