‘That’s where he is. Calls the place Eos, after some Greek goddess. According to Page Six in the Post, he’ll stay there until just before Thanksgiving, then whistle up his Gulfstream and head back to LaLa Land for the holidays with his remaining son and heir.’
Lalafallujah, Billy thinks.
‘Will he have an entourage with him?’
Giorgio laughs and the laugh turns into a wheeze, so maybe he isn’t an entirely new man after all. ‘You mean like Nick does? No way. Klerke’s got a TV in every room, I hear, all on mute and all tuned to different channels. That’s his entourage.’
‘No security?’ Billy can’t believe it. Klerke is one of the richest men in America.
‘Guys on the estate, you mean? Not if he thinks you’re dead. And as far as he knows, you had no idea who paid for the Allen job anyway.’
‘He’d think I went to Nick’s place just to collect my payday.’
‘Right. I’m sure he has a security company on call if he needs them, and he’s probably got a panic button, but the only full-time guy is his assistant. William Petersen. You know, like the CSI guy?’
Billy has heard of the show but never watched it. ‘Is Petersen a bodyguard as well as an assistant?’
‘Don’t know if he’s got judo and krav maga skills, stuff like that, but he’s young and in shape and you can assume he’s good with firearms. Although he might not be actually packing on his hip or in a shoulder rig on the estate.’
Billy files the information away. ‘Here’s what I need from you. One thing you’ll have to send. Do it and we’re square.’
‘Hold on a sec … okay.’ All business now. ‘I’ll do what you want if I can. If I can’t, I’ll tell you. Give it to me.’
Billy gives it to him. Giorgio listens and asks a couple of questions, but he doesn’t raise any problems that Billy hasn’t already foreseen.
‘It might actually work, assuming you’ve got a girl that can pass muster. I’ll need you to email me some photos. Better send a couple dozen, actually. Mostly face, a few full body but dressed modest. I’ll pick the ones where she looks the youngest.’ He pauses. ‘We’re not talking about a real teenager, are we?’
‘No,’ Billy says. Just almost a teenager, one whose only sexual experience was a nightmare muffled （most likely mercifully） by Rohypnol or some similar drug.
‘Good. Judy’s man in New York is Darren Byrne. Klerke’s done business with him before so obviously you can’t be him, but you could be his brother. Or cousin.’
‘Yes. I could.’ Although he supposes he’ll need something pimp-appropriate. ‘Will Klerke expect her to spend the night?’
‘God, no. You park and wait. He does his thing – assuming the Viagra works – and then she’s out and back in the car. An hour, two at most.’
Not going to be that long, Billy thinks. Not nearly, and any Viagra he takes will go to waste. ‘Okay. We are going to roll east from where we are now—’
‘You and Bucky?’
‘Me and the girl. When we get placed somewhere close to Montauk—’
‘Try Riverhead. Hyatt or Hilton Garden Inn.’
You haven’t lost a step, Billy thinks. He almost expects Giorgio to say he’ll make them a reservation.
‘When we get placed, I’ll call you.’
‘Okay, but start by sending me some stills of your swing.’
‘Swing?’
‘The girl, Billy. And she’s got to be the right kind of girl. Young, yeah, but also wholesome. If she looks trampy, forget it.’
‘Understood.’ Something else occurs to him. ‘Do you know anything about Frank Macintosh? He was alive when I left, but I hit him pretty hard.’
‘Doc Rivers got him stabilized but after that there was nothing he could do. He had a brain bleed, and Nick said he might have had a heart attack to go with it. His ma took him to Reno. He’s in a long-term facility. Palliative care, they call it.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Billy says, and he really is.
‘Margie took an apartment nearby. Nick’s paying for the whole deal.’
‘He’s in a coma?’
‘It might be better if he was. Nick says Marge told him he sleeps a lot, but when he comes around he talks nothing but gibberish. Has seizures and screams a lot.’
Billy says nothing. He can think of nothing to say.
Giorgio says, and not without admiration, ‘You must have hit him really hard. Elvis has left the building.’