“I dumped the heroin,” Danny says.
Kevin blinks. He can’t believe it. Then his face twists into an angry snarl. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Watch your mouth,” Ned says. “You’re talking to the boss.”
“That was millions of dollars there,” Kevin says.
Danny can smell the booze on his breath.
“If we could even lay it off,” Danny says. “I didn’t even know who to approach.”
“Liam did,” Kevin says.
“Liam’s dead,” Danny says. “That shit brought us nothing but bad. We probably have indictments chasing us, never mind the Morettis.”
“That’s why we needed the money, Danny,” Sean says.
Jimmy says, “They’ll all be coming after us. The Italians, the feds . . .”
“I know,” Danny says. But not Jardine, he thinks. Maybe other feds, but not that one. He doesn’t tell the others this—no point in giving them guilty knowledge, both for their protection and his. “But the heroin was evidence. I got rid of it.”
“I can’t believe you did us like that,” Kevin says.
Danny sees Kevin’s wrist move a little above his jacket pocket and knows the gun is in his hand.
If Kevin thinks he can do it, he will.
Sean, too.
They’re a pair, the Altar Boys.
But Danny doesn’t go for his own gun. He doesn’t need to. Ned Egan already has his out.
Pointed at Kevin’s head.
“Kevin,” Danny says, “don’t make me drop you in the ocean with the dope. Because I will.”
It’s right on the edge.
It can go either way.
Then Kevin laughs. Throws his head up and howls. “Throwing two mill in the water?! The feds after us?! The Italians?! The whole freakin’ world?! That’s wicked pisser! I love it! I’m with you, man! I’m with the Danny Ryan crew! Cradle to the freakin’ grave!”
Ned lowers his gun.
A little.
Danny relaxes. A little. The good thing about the Altar Boys is that they’re crazy. The bad thing about the Altar Boys is that they’re crazy.
“Okay, we don’t need a parade here,” Danny says. “Spread out. We’ll stay in touch through Bernie.”
Bernie Hughes, the organization’s old accountant, is holed up in New Hampshire, safe—for the time being, anyway—from the feds and the Morettis.
“You got it, boss,” Sean says.
Kevin nods.
They all get back in their cars and head out.
We’re refugees, Danny thinks as he drives.
Freakin’ refugees.
Fugitives.
Exiles.
Two
Peter Moretti is freaking the fuck out.
Waiting for Chris Palumbo.
Sitting in the office of American Vending Machine on Atwells Avenue in Providence, Peter’s tapping his right foot like a rabbit on speed. The office is decorated like a mother, because his brother Paulie goes nuts at the holidays and because this was supposed to have been a very good Christmas, what with the heroin money coming in and the Irish going out. Wreaths and shit festoon the walls and a big artificial silver tree stands in the corner with wrapped presents underneath, ready for the annual party.
Maybe I should take some of the presents back, Peter thinks, because if Palumbo doesn’t show up, we’re all going to be broke. Last thing he heard from his consigliere, Chris, he was headed down to the shore to get the ten kilos of horse Danny Ryan had tucked away in a stash house. That was three hours ago and there isn’t anywhere in Rhode Island it takes three hours to get to and get back.
Chris hasn’t come back, hasn’t called.
So ten keys of horse is in the wind with him.
After you step on it like Godzilla on Bambi, ten kilos of heroin has a street value of over two million dollars.
Peter needs that money.
Because he owes that money.
Sort of.
Peter had bought forty kilos of smack from the Mexicans at a hundred thousand a key because he was desperate to get into the drug business. Guys like Gotti in New York were making money hand over clenched fist with dope, and Peter wanted in on the windfall.
But no way did Peter have four million in cash, so he and his brother went out to half the wise guys in New England, generously letting them in on the investment opportunity. Some guys bought into it because they liked the potential, others because they were afraid to say no to the boss, but for whatever reason a lot of people had a piece of the shipment.
It would have been fine, but then Peter let Chris Palumbo talk him into doing a very risky thing.