Page 99 of The Accomplice
The computer console on the dash of the Hellcat was lit up with a four-way call, so the drivers could coordinate.
‘Wings, I’m on fuckin’ Hudson coming up on Canal in thirty fuckin’ seconds.’
‘I’m on Watts already, waitin’ for ya,’ came the reply.
Tony pushed the Hellcat, and whatever he’d done under the hood, the torque was too much for the steering because the car started to fishtail. He feathered the gas and had it under control in a second and then the grip kicked in and my head and back were welded to the seat as we took off.
‘What did you do to this thing ?’ I asked.
‘Fuck all. It comes out of the fuckin’ factory a beast.’
Watts Street leads onto Canal, a major cross street with two-way traffic. Hudson Street is the intersection before Watts. Tony turned left onto Canal, headed for the Holland Tunnel, and said, ‘Fuckin’ busting onto Canal now. Where the fuck are you ?’
A blue Mustang turned right out of Watts Street and pulled up by the central divider on Canal. Tony hit the brakes, stopped alongside the Mustang. The cars were pointed in opposite directions.
I already had the door open as Tony was braking, and I leapt out of the car, straight into the front of the Mustang. Lake bounced into the front passenger seat of the Hellcat, and I heard Tony swearing to fuckin’ Jesus fuckin’ Christ that Lake better hurry his ass up. Tony took off, then I heard Lake’s door close. I stayed low in the seat, closed my door just as I heard two cars whizz after Tony, who was already halfway to the tunnel.
‘That’s the Vic and the van all the way up Tony’s fuckin’ ass,’ said Wings as he pulled out slowly and we drove away in the opposite direction, with no cars on us.
That’s the veneziana. The feds didn’t see the switch. Far as they were concerned, they’d be following me and Tony around all night, not knowing it was Lake in the passenger seat. Wings and Tony had executed it perfectly. They had practice. The FBI had been on Jimmy the Hat’s ass for years. If he had to meet someone in private, the veneziana was the easiest way.
‘So where are we going ?’ asked Wings.
‘Brooklyn Park.’
‘No problem.’
Wings was a lot older than me and Jimmy. When we were little kids he always looked out for us. He was from Jimmy’s neighborhood and when I went up there to visit, he would always make sure no one was bothering me. As the only Irish kid in Jimmy’s solidly Italian neighborhood it could be intimidating. No one bothered Jimmy on account of his father, but plenty of the other kids would want to pick a fight with the mick. Unless Wings was around, of course. Back then Wings always had a black eye, or a big purple bruise on his face or arms. I thought it was from fighting rival gangs, but it turns out it was Wings’ old man who was quick with his fists.
Back then everyone called him Tommy. When his old man pushed his mother out of the window of their second-floor apartment and Tommy leapt out after her, catching her in mid air and taking the impact of the fall on his back, people started calling him Wings. His mom said he flew out of that window, grabbed her and she landed on top of him. That day the doctors didn’t know if Tommy would ever walk again due to the spinal injuries. Jimmy’s father and Tommy’s father had a talk that night, so they say, and it didn’t go well. Tommy’s old man didn’t survive the fall from the top of the building. Tommy not only recovered, but he came under the protection of the Fellinis and started working for the family, boosting cars for one of the chop shops. He got good at it, especially driving. There was nobody faster behind the wheel than Wings.
We arrived in Brooklyn Park with time to spare.
‘You want me to come with ?’
‘Nah, I should be okay. You alright to stick around til I’m done ?’
‘Sure thing, kid. I’ll keep an eye on ya.’
I left the car, huddled into my overcoat and made my way to the shorefront in Brooklyn Park. This part of DUMBO (down under the Manhattan Bridge overpass) had been looked after and developed, especially when the East River ferry started moving foot passengers commuting to the city. There weren’t too many people in the park at this time of night. The occasional jogger or an old man with a dog. The park abutted the East River, with a railing looking right into the water. The lights from Manhattan’s sky scrapers glimmered on the chop of the river.
I put my back to the rail, stuffed my hands into my coat pockets for warmth and watched the paths that led up to here. An older couple with a small dog on a leash approached from my left. They stopped at the view finder, which looked out across the water, and the guy hunted for change in his pocket before giving up and passing me by.
I waited until long after Carrie was supposed to get here. And my anxiety and fear increased with every passing minute. I was cold and afraid that my gamble had not paid off. I took out my burner, dialed the last number and waited.
Carrie picked up.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if I can trust you yet.’
‘There’s no other way of knowing without giving me a chance. Just come and meet me, I’m still here. I’m still waiting.’
‘You don’t know what I’ve done,’ she said.
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I needed her and I was usually able to convince people to trust me. There was a reason why Carrie didn’t know if I could be trusted. The reason was I didn’t know the whole story. I guessed she had been keeping some things from me, but now I knew it for certain. And I had a pretty good idea what she was hiding.
‘I know more than you realize. And I’m still on the phone. I’m still here to help you. Because no matter what happened, I don’t think you’re a bad person, Carrie. People make terrible mistakes, but they are still good people at heart. One mistake shouldn’t define someone’s life.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Can you see the view finder ?’
