“Where are you calling from?”

“A public telephone booth.”

“Go ahead.”

“I found out where all the heat’s coming from.”

“You’re too late. They’ve been taken care of already.”

“They? Oh. I only heard about Thomas Colfax.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Colfax is dead.”

It was Captain Tanner’s turn to be confused. “What are you talking about? Thomas Colfax is sitting at the Marine Base in Quantico right now, spilling his guts to everybody who’ll listen.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Michael snapped. “I happen to know—” He stopped. What did he know? He had told Nick Vito to kill Thomas Colfax, and Vito had said that he had. Michael sat there thinking. “How sure are you about this, Tanner?”

“Mr. Moretti, would I be calling you if I wasn’t sure?”

“I’ll check it out. If you’re right, I owe you one.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”

Captain Tanner replaced the receiver, pleased with himself. In the past he had found Michael Moretti to be a very appreciative man. This could be the big one, the one that could enable him to retire. He stepped out of the telephone booth into the cold October air.

There were two men standing outside the booth, and as the captain started to step around them, one of them blocked his way. He held up an identification card.

“Captain Tanner? I’m Lieutenant West, Internal Security Division. The Police Commissioner would like to have a word with you.”

Michael Moretti hung up the receiver slowly. He knew with a sure animal instinct that Nick Vito had lied to him. Thomas Colfax was still alive. That would explain everything that was happening. He was the one who had turned traitor. And Michael had sent Nick Vito out to kill Fiore and Colella. Jesus, he had been stupid! Outsmarted by a dumb hired gunman into wasting his two top men! He was filled with an icy rage.

He dialed a number and spoke briefly into the telephone. After he made a second telephone call, he sat back and waited.

When he heard Nick Vito on the phone, Michael forced himself to keep the fury he felt out of his voice. “How did it go, Nick?”

“Okay, boss. Just like you said. They both suffered a lot.”

“I can always count on you, Nick, can’t I?”

“You know you can, boss.”

“Nick, I want you to do me one last favor. One of the boys left a car at the corner of York and Ninety-fifth Street. It’s a tan Camaro. The keys are behind the sun visor. We’re going to use it for a job tonight. Drive it over here, will you?”

“Sure, boss. How soon do you need it? I was going to—”

“I need it now. Right away, Nick.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Good-bye, Nick.”

Michael replaced the receiver. He wished he could be there to watch Nick Vito blow himself to hell, but he had one more urgent thing to do.

Jennifer Parker would be on her way back soon, and he wanted to get everything ready for her.

59

It’s like some kind of goddamned Hollywood movie production, Major General Roy Wallace thought, with my prisoner as the star.

The large conference room at the United States Marine Corps base was filled with technicians from the Signal Corps, scurrying around setting up cameras and sound and lighting equipment, using an arcane jargon.

“Kill the brute and hit the inkies. Bring a baby over here…”

They were getting ready to put Thomas Colfax’s testimony on film.

“It’s extra insurance,” District Attorney Di Silva had argued. “We know that no one can get to him, but it will be good to have it on the record, anyway.” And the others had gone along with him.

The only person absent was Thomas Colfax. He would be brought in at the last minute, when everything was in readiness for him.

Just like a goddamn movie star.

Thomas Colfax was having a meeting in his cell with David Terry of the Justice Department, the man in charge of creating new identities for witnesses who wished to disappear.

“Let me explain a bit about the Federal Witness Security Program,” Terry said. “When the trial is over, we’ll send you to whichever country you choose. Your furniture and other belongings will be shipped to a warehouse in Washington, with a coded number. We’ll forward it to you later. There won’t be any way for anyone to trace you. We’ll supply you with a new identity and background and, if you wish, a new appearance.”

“I’ll take care of that.” He trusted no one to know what he was going to do with his appearance.

“Ordinarily when we set people up with a new identity, we find jobs for them in whatever field they’re suited for, and we supply them with some money. In your case, Mr. Colfax, I understand that money is no problem.”

Thomas Colfax wondered what David Terry would say if he knew how much money was salted away in his bank accounts in Germany, Switzerland and Hong Kong. Even Thomas Colfax had not been able to keep track of it all, but a modest estimate, he would guess, would be nine or ten million dollars.

“No,” Colfax said, “I don’t think money will be a problem.”

“All right, then. The first thing to decide is where you would like to go. Do you have any particular area in mind?”

It was such a simple question, yet so much lay behind it. What the man was really saying was, Where do you want to spend the rest of your life? For Colfax knew that when he got to wherever he was going, he would never be able to leave. It would become his new habitat, his protective cover, and he would not be safe anywhere else in the world.

“Brazil.”

It was the logical choice. He already owned a two-hundred-thousand-acre plantation there in the name of a Panamanian corporation that could not be traced back to him. The plantation itself was like a fortress. He could afford to buy himself enough protection so that even if Michael Moretti did finally learn where he was, no one would be able to touch him. He could buy anything, including all the women he wanted. Thomas Colfax liked Latin women. People thought that when a man reached the age of sixty-five he was finished sexually, that he no longer had any interest, but Colfax had found that his appetite had grown as he had gotten older. His favorite sport was to have two or three beautiful young women in bed with him at the same time, working him over. The younger the better.

“Brazil will be easy to arrange,” David Terry was saying. “Our government will buy you a small house there, and—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Colfax almost laughed aloud at the thought of his having to live in a small house. “All I will require of you is that you provide me with the new identification and safe transportation. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“As you wish, Mr. Colfax.” David Terry rose to his feet. “I think we’ve covered just about everything.” He smiled reassuringly. “This is going to be one of the easy ones. I’ll begin setting things in motion. As soon as you’re finished testifying, you’ll be on an airplane to South America.”

“Thank you.” Thomas Colfax watched his visitor leave and he was filled with a sense of elation. He had done it! Michael Moretti had made the mistake of underestimating him, and it was going to be Moretti’s final mistake. Colfax was going to bury him so deep that he would never rise again.

And his testimony was going to be filmed. That would be interesting. He wondered whether they would use makeup on him. He studied himself in the small mirror on the wall. Not bad, he thought, for a man my age. I still have my looks. Those young South American girls love older men with gray hair.

He heard the sound of the cell door opening, and he turned. A marine sergeant was bringing in Colfax’s lunch. There would be plenty of time to eat before the filming began.