Old-school, their old man, Peter thinks.
Old freaking school.
They agree to the sit-down.
Thirteen
Pasco sets the location at the last minute.
Then changes it.
Danny understands that it’s SOP to prevent either side from setting up an ambush, but the reality is, at the end of the day, Pasco Ferri is Italian. If he decides he has to yield to the Morettis and let them do something, the Dogtown Irish are walking into it.
They’re just trusting Pasco.
“Can we?” Pat asks.
Danny shrugs. A lot of clambakes together. Drinks and laughs. His old man says they can.
“Pasco Ferri is a man of his word,” Marty says. “If he says we’re safe, we’re safe.”
Marty has been invited to the meeting at Pasco’s insistence. A reminder, Danny guesses, that it was Pasco and Marty who put together the Irish-Italian peace that has lasted for a generation, and that breaking the alliance is an affront to both of them.
Marty dresses carefully for the meeting, fussing with Danny about getting his tie straight, a real pain in the ass. The old man’s last glory day, Danny thinks. He’s important again.
They set the meeting for the Harbor Inn, a hotel and restaurant down in Gilead, just across the channel from Dave’s Dock. The restaurant has been closed to the public at four o’clock for the “private party.”
Danny and Ned Egan walk Marty to the front of the restaurant. Jimmy Mac slides out from the driver’s seat and stands there looking nervous, his pistol bulging under his sport coat.
The Murphys pull up behind them. Pat’s driving, his dad next to him, Liam slumped in the back seat, like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Can’t blame him for that, Danny thinks.
Pasco comes out, flanked by two of his guys. Vito Salerno, his longtime consigliere, and Tito Cruz, a half-Sicilian, half–Puerto Rican who has done a lot of wet work for the family over the years. Serious people, a clear signal that Pasco isn’t going to put up with any bullshit here.
A good thing, Danny thinks.
Pasco walks over to him. “All hardware stays in the cars, Danny.”
Danny sees the flicker of alarm in Ned Egan’s eyes. Pasco sees it, too, and adds, “Same with the Morettis.”
Danny walks back to the car and puts his gun in the console. Jimmy Mac does the same, looking almost relieved. It takes Ned a few seconds to adjust to the idea, but then he steps over and lays his .45 on the front passenger seat.
“I’ll stay with the car,” Jimmy says.
The back room of the restaurant has a fishing theme: buoys and nets across the wall, a pretty bad painting of the harbor, some photographs of fishing boats. A long table has been set up in the center of the room with some plastic coffee carafes, pitchers of water, cups and glasses. Danny understands that Pasco is saying this is business, and business that he’s annoyed with, so there’s no expensive dinner and wine. Just work it out, get it over with.
Fine with Danny. If this goes well, he’s going to take the old man over to the other side to Dave’s for some good fish-and-chips. If it goes bad, well, nobody’s going to have an appetite.
Peter and Paul Moretti sit on one side with Sal Antonucci and Chris Palumbo beside them. None of them look up as the Murphy party comes into the room and sits down across the table; they just stare into the water pitchers like there’s some pretty tropical fish in them or something.
Old Man Murphy takes the chair nearest the head of the table, with Pat beside him. Then Liam, then Danny, then Marty. Ned Egan stands right inside the door. Pasco comes in, sits down at the other head. Vito and Cruz close the door and then take chairs in the corner.
Pasco pours himself a glass of water, takes a drink, and begins. “There’s been a tear in the fabric of our association. I’ve called this meeting to mend that tear. Who would like to speak first?”
Danny’s surprised when Marty lifts his hand. Proud of the old man when he says, “First things first. One of our people has been killed. There needs to be recompense.”
Pasco looks at Peter.
“He had no family, right, this Handrigan kid?” Peter asks. “No wife, kids?”
“A mother,” Marty says.
Peter turns from the table and leans over as Chris whispers in his ear. Then he turns back and says, “She has a candy store? Magazines, papers, that sort of thing? We have machines in it?”
“That’s right,” Marty says.
“She keeps the full take from our machines,” Peter says. “We’ll give up our cut. Okay. We done with that?”