I took a deep breath—and tried to collect myself. Then I rose from the bed and made a quick beeline for the pay phone.
As I was walking down the dock it occurred to me that I had only five Quaaludes in my possession, which, given the current circumstances, was an entirely unacceptable number. I wasn’t supposed to head back to Long Island for three more days, and my back had really been killing me…sort of. Besides, I’d been an angel for over a month now, and that was long enough.
The moment I reached the phone I picked it up and dialed Janet. As I punched in my calling-card number, I wondered if it would somehow make the call more traceable or, for that matter, more buggable. After a few seconds, though, I dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Using a calling card didn’t make it any easier for the FBI to tap my phone conversation; it was the same as using quarters. Still, it was the thought of a careful, prudent man, so I commended myself for thinking it.
“Janet,” said the prudent man, “I want you to go into the bottom right-hand drawer of my desk and count out forty Ludes; then give them to Wigwam and have him fly them up here on a chopper right now. There’s a private airport a few miles from the harbor. He can land there. I don’t have time to pick him up, so have a limo waiting for—”
Janet cut me off. “I’ll have him there in two hours; don’t worry about it. Is everything okay? You sound upset.”
“Everything’s fine. I just miscalculated before I left and now I’m out. Anyway, my back’s been hurting, so I need to take the edge off.” I hung up the phone without saying good-bye, then picked it right back up and dialed Carolyn at home. The moment she answered I was on her.
“Carolyn, is—”
“OhmyGod, I must tell you what is—”
“Carolyn, don’t—”
“Going on with Tahad! He is—”
“Carolyn, don’t—”
“In jail, and he said that—”
She refused to stop talking, so I screamed: “Carrrrrrrolyn!”
That got her.
“Listen to me, Carolyn, and don’t talk. I’m sorry for yelling at you, but I don’t want you to talk from your house. Do you understand?”
“Oui,”she replied. Even now I noticed that during the heat of the moment she obviously found it soothing to speak in her own language.
“Okay,” I said calmly. “Go to the nearest pay phone and call this number: area code 401-555-1665. That’s where I am right now. Got it?”
“Yes,” she replied calmly, switching back to English. “I write it down. I call you back in few minutes. I must get change.”
“No, just use my calling-card number,” I said, just as calmly.
Five minutes later the phone rang. I picked it up and asked Carolyn to read me the number off the pay phone she was at. Then I hung up, switched to the pay phone next to me, and dialed Carolyn’s pay phone.
She immediately plunged into the details. “…so Tahad waiting in parking lot for Danny, and he finally show up in big-shot Rolls-Royce and he very stoned, swerving around shopping center, almost hitting other cars. So security guards call police because they think Danny driving drunk. He give money to Todd and he leave right away because Todd threaten to kill him for being stoned. But he leave Todd with briefcase. Then Todd saw two police cars with flashing lights and realize what is happening, so he run into video store and hide gun in video box, but police handcuff him anyway. Then police play back security video and see where he hide gun, and they find it and arrest him. Then they go to limousine and search and find money and take it.”
Holy shit! I thought. The money was the least of my problems. The main problem was that Danny was a fucking dead man! He would have to leave town and never come back. Or make some sort of financial compensation to Todd, to buy him off.
Just then it occurred to me that Todd must’ve told all this to Carolyn over the telephone. And if he was still in jail, then he must’ve used the phone from— Shit!Todd was smarter than that! Why would he risk using a phone that was almost certainly tapped—to call his own house, nonetheless?
“When did you last speak to Todd?” I asked, praying there was some explanation.
“I not speak to him. His lawyer call me and tell me this. Todd call him and tell him to get bail money, and then Todd say I must leave to Switzerland tonight, before this become problem. So I book ticket for Tahad’s parents and Dina and me. Rich will sign for Todd and I will give him bail money.”
Christ almighty! This was an awful lot to take in. At least Todd had had enough common sense not to talk on the phone. And insofar as his conversation with his lawyer went, that would be privileged. Yet the most ironic part was that in the middle of the whole thing—while he was sitting in jail—Todd was still trying to get my money overseas. I didn’t know whether to be appreciative of his unwavering commitment to my cause or angry over how reckless he was. I ran the whole thing through my mind, trying to put it all into perspective. The truth was that the police probably thought they’d stumbled onto a drug deal. Todd was the seller, which was why he had a briefcase full of cash, and whoever had been driving the Rolls-Royce was the buyer. I wondered if they had gotten Danny’s license plate? If they had, wouldn’t they have already picked him up? But on what grounds would they arrest him? In truth, they had nothing on Danny. All they had was a briefcase full of cash, nothing more. The main issue was the gun, but that could be dealt with. A good lawyer could most certainly get Todd off with probation and maybe a hefty fine. I would pay the fine—or Danny would pay the fine—and that would be that.
I said to the Bombshell, “Okay, you should go. Todd gave you all the specifics, right? You know who to go see?”
“Yes. I will see Jean Jacques Saurel. I have phone number and I know street very well. It is in shopping area.”
“All right, Carolyn; be careful. Tell the same to Todd’s parents and to Dina. And, also, call Todd’s lawyer and tell him to let Todd know that you spoke to me and that he has nothing to worry about. Tell him that everything will be taken care of. And stress the word everything,Carolyn. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, yes, I do. Don’t worry, Jordan. Tahad love you. He would never say one word, no matter what. I promise you this with all my heart. He will sooner kill himself before he hurt you.”
Those very words made me smile inwardly, even though I knew Todd was incapable of loving any soul on earth, especially himself. Yet Todd’s very persona, the persona of the Jewish Mafioso, made it highly unlikely that he would roll over on me unless he was facing many years in jail.
Having worked things out in my mind, I wished the Bombshell a bon voyage and hung up the phone. As I headed back to the yacht, the only remaining question was whether or not I should call Danny and give him the bad news. Or perhaps it would be wiser to wait until he wasn’t so stoned. Although, now that after the initial wave of panic had subsided, it wasn’t such bad news, after all. It certainly wasn’t good news, but it was more of an unexpected complication than anything else.
Still, there was no denying that those Quaaludes were going to be Danny’s downfall. He had a serious problem with them, and perhaps it was time that he sought help.
BOOK III
CHAPTER 21
FORM OVER SUBSTANCE
January 1994
In the weeks following the parking-lot debacle, it became clear that the shopping center’s surveillance cameras hadn’t gotten a clear picture of Danny’s license plate. But, according to Todd, the police were offering him a deal if he would tell them who’d been driving the Rolls-Royce. Todd, of course, had told them to eat shit and die, although I was somewhat suspicious that he was exaggerating a bit—laying a foundation for economic extortion. Either way, I had assured him that he would be taken care of, and in return he had agreed to spare Danny’s life.