'Lot of people have those skills,' I said. 'What makes Stephano especially fearsome?'
'His willingness,' del Rio said. 'He has been known, without malice, to kill a man, his wife, children, and dog.'
'To make a point?' I said. 'Or just because they were there?'
'Either,' del Rio said.
'It doesn't bother him,' I said.
'I believe he likes it,' del Rio said.
'A skilled sadist,' I said. 'Who's found a profession suited to him.'
'Yes,' del Rio said. 'Oddly, he seems devoted to his wife, and is thus entirely loyal to her father.'
'Nicky Fellscroft,' I said.
'Yes.'
'Does he ever freelance?' I said.
'Stephano?' del Rio said. 'No. He is Nicky Fellscroft's personal assassin.'
'So if he went after somebody, it would be because Fellscroft told him to?'
'Or his wife told him,' del Rio said.
'Fellscroft's daughter,' I said.
'Yes,' del Rio said. 'And she would never point him at anyone without her father's agreement.'
'Close family,' I said.
'Very,' del Rio said. 'And one to which Stephano is very pleased to belong.'
'It's worked out well for Stephano,' I said.
'Do you expect him to come for you?' del Rio said.
'Possible,' I said.
'Would you like me to have Chollo kill him for you?' del Rio said.
'You're very kind,' I said. 'But no, I need to deal with him myself.'
'Yes,' del Rio said. 'You probably do.'
50
IT WAS SUNDAY MORNING, in the full flower of early June. Susan and I were having brunch at a Boston restaurant called Mooo. The brunch was the stuff that dreams are made of, and so was Susan. I was sipping a passionfruit Bellini and having a very nice time when Tony Marcus slid into an empty chair next to me.
'Morning, Dr. Silverman,' Tony said.
'Good morning, Mr. Marcus,' Susan said.
'Call me Tony,' he said.
'Call me Susan,' she said.
He smiled. I checked the room. At a table for two a few tables removed was a young woman who looked like Halle Berry. She smiled at us. Jittering at the bar was a skinny little youth named Ty-Bop who always looked like he was on something, and probably was. Whatever he was on didn't seem to impede him. He could shoot nearly as good as Chollo, or Vinnie Morris. Beside him was Junior, who was the approximate size of a 747 but organized differently. They were always in sight when Tony was around. At the other end of the bar, Z was drinking orange juice and eyeing Junior speculatively. Dueling bodyguards.
Junior saw me looking and nodded at me. Ty-Bop paid no attention. He never did, unless there was someone to be shot. When there wasn't, he seemed to spend his time contemplating the inside of his eyeballs.
'Nice brunch,' Tony said.
'Elegant,' I said.
'You try them Kobe beef dumplings?' Tony said.
'Soon,' I said.
Susan was having assorted berries with champagne sabayon on the side, which had a fair chance of being more than enough for her. I had larger plans.
'We need a brief conversation,' Tony said. 'I was going to give you a call, but here we both are.'
'Kismet,' I said.
'Whatever the fuck that is,' Tony said.
He looked at Susan, then at me.
'May I talk freely?' he said.
'When have you not?' I said.
