'You told him I was back,' I said.
'He's out in the car,' Vinnie said.
I went to Henry's office, got my jacket and my gun, put both of them on, and went out with Vinnie. There was a big silver Mercedes sedan double-parked on Atlantic Ave. The street was already narrowed by construction, and the traffic was having trouble getting around the car. There was a lot of honking, to which, as far as I could see, no one paid any attention. Gino Fish was in the backseat. A guy with a thick neck and a black suit was behind the wheel.
Vinnie opened the back door and I got in beside Gino. Vinnie got in the front. Gino was wearing a blue suit, a blue striped shirt, and a gold silk necktie. His hair was cut so short that he seemed bald, though he actually wasn't. He was wearing bright blue reflective Oakley sun glasses, which seemed totally out of keeping with the rest of his look.
'Drive about, please, Sammy,' Gino said.
And the Mercedes pulled into traffic, cutting off a maroon van and causing more honking of horns. Neither Sammy nor Gino seemed to hear them. We cruised slowly north along Atlantic Avenue.
'I understand you were injured,' Gino said.
'Yes.'
'Specifically you were shot.'
'Yes.'
'Vinnie tells me this man dresses in gray and may be named Rugar.'
'Or he may not be,' I said.
'Yes,' Gino said. 'It is good to be precise.'
We passed the garage in the North End where the Brinks job went down almost fifty years ago, and the Charlestown Bridge to what had once been City Square. Sammy kept on straight on Atlantic, under the elevated trains in front of the old Boston Garden, with the new Boston Garden behind it.
'I know of such a man,' Gino said.
'Gray man?'
'Yes.'
'Called Rugar?'
'Yes.'
I waited. We bore right past the Garden and North Station, past the ruins of what used to be the West End.
There was a single defiant three-decker remaining, surrounded by pavement, like the isolated tombstone of a neighborhood that disappeared.
'This Rugar, who affects gray all the time-so tacky-is a gunman. He works out of New York and he is very expensive and, hence, very exclusive.'
'Ever use him?' I said.
'I have Vinnie,' Gino said.
'Before you had Vinnie,' I said.
Gino smiled gently.
'His arrangement is simple. You pay nothing until it's done. Then you pay him promptly in full and in cash and he disappears. Once he commits to a project he stays on it until it is done, no matter how long it takes, no matter how far he has to travel. He guarantees results and he requests no payment until he gets them. Anyone who has dealt with him is not likely to try and, ah, renege on payment.
'And it prevents him from getting stung if the client turns out to be an undercover cop. He doesn't take money, he can just say he was humoring them and had no intention of killing anyone.'
We went past the old Registry building and the new Suffolk County jail, past the Charles River dam, and onto Storrow Drive, going west at a leisurely pace.
'Where do I find Rugar?' I said.
'One might be better not to find him,' Gino said.
'One might.'
Gino sort of smiled. If it was a smile. Whatever it was, it was devoid of warmth or humor.
'People who wish to hire him,' Gino said, 'see an attorney in New York who arranges a meeting.'
'And if the cops ever backtrack to him,' I said, 'he can claim that all his dealings with Rugar are privileged communication between a lawyer and his client.'
'You are an astute man,' Gino said.
'Yeah, and a swell dancer. How come you're telling me this?'
'Vinnie holds you in high regard.'
'Good employee relations?' I said.
Gino spread his hands. They looked like the hands of a violinist.
