keeping the Brooklyn Brewing Company in business. There had barely been room in the refrigerator for food.
So I began talking. I told Walter of Marielle Vetters, and the story of the plane. I told him of Liat, and Epstein, and the second confrontation in the restaurant. I told him more of Brightwell, because Walter had been there when a woman came to my house asking for help in finding her lost daughter, a request that had led, in turn, to Brightwell and his Believers.
‘I ever tell you that you keep some strange company?’ he said, when I was done.
‘Thanks for pointing that out. What would I do without you?’
‘Spend money on expensive hotel rooms in New York. You sure you don’t want a beer?’
‘No, coffee’s fine.’
‘Something stronger?’
‘Not my bag any more.’
He nodded.
‘You’re going to go back to Epstein, aren’t you? You’re curious about this list, and the plane. More than that, you’re interested in Brightwell. He got under your skin.’
‘Yes.’
‘Doesn’t mean that what Brightwell thought about you was true or right. If you’re an angel, fallen or any other kind, then I’m Cleopatra. That stuff is okay if you’re Shirley MacLaine, otherwise it starts to sound flaky. But if you want some company dealing with the Chosen People, let me know.’
‘I thought you’d signed up for “don’t ask, don’t tell”?’
‘I’m an old man. I forget what I’ve said as soon as I’ve said it. Anyway, it’ll be an excuse to leave the house that doesn’t involve doctors, or a trip to the mall.’
‘You know, you’re quite the ad for active retirement.’
‘I’m going to be a centerfold for the AARP magazine. They promised. It’ll be like that Burt Reynolds pic from
Epstein called my cell phone before I went to sleep. Somewhere in our brief exchange there was an apology of sorts, perhaps from each of us.
I slept soundly.
I did not dream.
21
I met Epstein late the following afternoon at Nicola’s Italian grocery and delicatessen at 54th and First. This part of town was known as Sutton Place, and for much of its history the rich and the poor had lived side by side here, tenements coexisting alongside the homes of socialites, the noise from factories, breweries and wharves providing the soundtrack while artists such as Max Ernst and Ernest Fiene worked in their studios. In the late 1930s, construction began on what was then known as the East River Drive, and subsequently became the FDR. The tenements and wharves began to disappear, and slowly high-rises started to take the place of many of the more civilized, characterful buildings. Still, some of those with long memories remembered a time when the apartments of Sutton Place were occupied mostly by actors and directors, when it was a haven for theatrical folk and, by extension, the gay community. It was said that eighty percent of the population of this small area was gay. Rock Hudson, among others, had an apartment in the 405 building across the street from Nicola’s. In those days, if you told a cab driver to take you to ‘Four out of Five’, he would bring you straight to its door.
The choice of Nicola’s as the venue for the meeting was mine. Nick, who owned the store along with his brother Freddy, was ex-military, having served his time in Vietnam. His genius there lay in sourcing whatever was necessary – food, equipment, booze – in order to ensure the continued smooth running of the US military endeavor in Southeast Asia, but particularly that element of the endeavor which affected the comfort and care of his unit. Whole camps had been sustained thanks to Nick’s abilities to scavenge and procure. Given another thousand men like him, the US might even have won the war. Now he had settled comfortably into the role of a store owner in New York, where his undoubted skills in negotiating and appropriating continued to serve him well.
Nick and Freddy were both behind the counter that morning, each dressed in the store’s unofficial uniform of check shirt and blue jeans, although on Saturdays Nick eschewed the uniform in favor of a more formal black shirt, a nod to the days when he would hit the town after the store closed. Nicola’s was a relic of a better time in New York, when every block had its neighborhood store, and there were personal relationships between shopkeepers and their customers. If you stood still for long enough in Nicola’s, either Nick or Freddy would press a fresh espresso into your hand. After that, you were theirs forever. On a crate beside the door sat Dutch, one of their oldest customers, his coffee in his left hand, a blanket across his lap concealing his right, along with the gun that the hand contained on this particular afternoon.
The appearance of the store was deceptive. Although it was compact, with barely enough room for a handful of customers to stand in line, a flight of steps at the back led to a small storage space, and that space in turn opened up into the bowels of the building behind, where Nick and Freddy kept an office. A couple of storefronts to the right of the store, facing the street, was an iron gate that gave access to a large yard at the rear of the block, its footprint massive by the standards of real estate in the city.
Epstein arrived shortly after I did, trailed by Adiv, Liat’s would-be suitor, and Yonathan, the older man who had riled me during the previous night’s confrontation. When Adiv and Yonathan tried to follow Epstein into Nicola’s, Walter Cole appeared and blocked their way.
‘Sorry, boys,’ he said. ‘Space is at a premium.’
Epstein stared at Walter.
‘The ex-policeman,’ said Epstein. He emphasized the word ‘ex’.
‘Once a cop, always a cop.’
‘Are you a guarantee of safety?’
‘I live to serve. Like I said, once a cop, always a cop.’
‘Is there another way in?’ asked Adiv.
‘Building on 54th, and through the gate to the right,’ said Walter. ‘Makes you feel better to take one entrance each, then go ahead. As for the store, nobody’s going to get past the four of us.’ He indicated Nick, Freddy and Dutch. ‘Plus we’re all so wired on espresso that if the mailman makes a sudden move we might even take him out. Go for a walk, boys. Get some air into your lungs.’
Epstein considered the arrangement, then nodded at his two bodyguards and they moved away, Adiv to the corner of 54th where he could watch both the storefront and the entrance to the apartment block, and Yonathan to the iron gate on First. I led Epstein down the stairs, through the storeroom, and across the hall to Nick’s large office where we could talk without clean-shaven young Jewish men with guns threatening the peace.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but wonder where Liat might be. Liat troubled me. I hadn’t slept with anyone since Rachel left me, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d ended up in bed with Liat, beyond the fact that I had wanted to, and she had been there and willing, which were pretty good reasons in themselves. But last night, at the restaurant, she’d shown no great desire to repeat the experiment, and Epstein had clearly entrusted her with the task of watching me closely as he confronted me with the list, and assessing my reactions to his subsequent questions. Asking him if he’d also suggested that she sleep with me in order to examine my injuries seemed kind of crass, and I might not have been flattered by the answer; asking what would have happened if she had shaken her head instead of nodding at the end of the questioning might have had a more damaging effect on my feelings toward all concerned.
Nick provided us with more strong Italian coffees on a small tray, and some fresh pastries. Epstein was halfway through a tartlet when Walter Cole wandered in and took his seat at a table in the corner.
‘I thought we were going to talk alone,’ said Epstein.
‘Your mistake,’ said Walter.
‘I understood this to be neutral territory.’
‘No, you
Epstein turned back to me. ‘And your guardians, Angel and Louis?’
‘Oh, they’re around,’ I said. ‘In fact, I think they may be keeping Adiv and Yonathan company right about
