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By Root 381 0

long gone, abandoned and forgotten when Tommy had moved to the West Village. He couldn't tell them anyway. He even thought about telling his mother and had to laugh, bitterly, as he imagined how she'd handle it. Call your Uncle Sally, she'd say . . . or that nice Mr. Iannello, you know, Charlie? He likes you . . . He'll know what to do. He could tell the chef, he supposed. He couldn't picture what that would be like. The chef had his own problems. And of course, to Sally and Skinny and that bunch, telling the chef would be the same as telling the police. Subject to the same penalty anyway.

Tommy got dressed, fed the cat and changed her water, and left the apartment. He hoped it would be busy today at the restaurant; it would help take his mind off things.

Tommy stepped out onto Morton Street and was looking up and down for any sign of the van or that Jeep with the tinted windows when he saw Skinny.

He was standing behind the Cyclone fence in the playground across the street, looking straight at him. Tommy didn't know what to do. His first instinct was to pretend he hadn't seen him; keep walking, not acknowledge he'd seen him. But it was already too late for that. Skinny had already lifted a finger to his lips, telling Tommy to be quiet, act natural, then he'd motioned with his thumb in the direction of Hudson Street, wanting Tommy to follow.

Tommy walked slowly down Morton to the corner. He stayed close to the buildings on the uptown side of the street, trying to see around the corner to where Skinny had gone, trying to get a preview of what was waiting for him.

He saw Skinny walk straight across to the west side of Hudson without looking back. He stopped in front of a brown Lincoln double-parked in front of a renovated apartment building and gave Tommy a quick glance before getting behind the wheel. Tommy approached the car, saw a solitary figure in the back seat.

He approached the Lincoln slowly, crouching a little as he got closer, trying to see who it was in the back seat. He could make out a dark business suit and wide shoulders, a tie with a gold tie-clasp. It wasn't Sally, that was for sure.

Tommy looked at Skinny behind the wheel, a quizzical expression on his face. Skinny jerked a thumb toward the rear of the Lincoln. Tommy took this to mean he should get in the back seat. Back seat. That's a good sign, he was thinking. If Skinny was to be in the back and I was to be in the front, now that would be a bad sign. Somebody wants to talk to me, that's all.

Tommy opened the rear door on the street side and got in.

It was Danny Testa sitting in the seat next to him. All dressed up, like he'd been to church. He was smiling, not in itself a good or a bad sign . . . He patted Tommy on the thigh with a big hand a few times and said, "Hey, Tommy. . . good to see you. Thanks for comin'."

Skinny started the car and took off up Hudson Street, his eyes meeting Tommy's in the rearview mirror. After Skinny had taken them over to the river and turned downtown on West Street, Tommy said, "I'm gonna be late for work."

"Sorry kid," said Danny. "You're just gonna have to be a little late." End of discussion. Skinny gave Tommy another look in the rearview.

They drove in silence down the West Side, Danny looking behind them periodically, Skinny speeding up and then slowing down, changing lanes, seemingly at random. They swung around the Battery and were soon heading uptown again on the FDR Drive. Tommy noticed they passed the exits for Canal, then Houston, and were still heading uptown. When Fourteenth Street disappeared behind them, Tommy turned to Danny and, in as friendly and as disinterested a way as he could, asked him what was happening.

"Can I ask you where we're goin' here, Danny? I haven't seen you in a long time . . . You pop up outside my place, take me for a cruise in your car . . . You mind if I ask why?"

Danny put his fingers to his lips, much like Skinny had done.

"Later," he said. "Wait'll we get there."

A few more minutes of silence. The car passed Forty-second, went through a tunnel, passed Gracie Mansion.