Day of Confession - Allan Folsom [167]
For a long moment Roscani sat stone-faced, and Harry wasn’t sure if he would give him what he was asking or not. Finally, he spoke.
“My part is easy, Mr. Addison…. But I have grave doubts about you. It’s not just getting a man into a freight car. First you have to get him out of where he is, and in doing that you will have to deal with Farel and his people. And then, somewhere, is Thomas Kind.”
“My brother was a marine,” Harry said quietly. “He’ll walk me through it.”
Roscani knew it was crazy. And knew that Scala and Castelletti felt the same. But unless they went in with him themselves—which was impossible, because if they did and were caught, it would make for a major diplomatic incident—there was nothing they could do but stand back and wish him well. It was a gamble and a bad one. But, ultimately, the only one they had.
“All right, Mr. Addison,” he said quietly.
Harry felt the relief but tried not to show it. “Three more things,” he said. “First, I want a handgun.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Beverly Hills Gun Club. Six months’ training in self-protection. One of my clients made me do it.”
“What else?”
“Climbing rope. A long length that can support two men without breaking.”
“That’s the second. What’s the third?”
“You have a man in jail. The police took him by train from Lugano and back to Italy. He’s wanted for murder, but a fair trial would prove self-defense. I need his help. I want him out.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s a dwarf. His name is Hercules.”
127
“PIANO THREE-A,” HARRY SAID.
“All right.” Roscani nodded and Harry got out of the car. He waited for a moment, watching the policemen drive away, then went inside. He had done what he had done, Roscani knew where they were, and now he had to tell Danny.
“ADRIANNA HALL notified. Eaton notified. Just as you asked—“
“And the police notified.” Heatedly Danny turned away in his wheelchair. Moved it across the room to stare blankly and angrily out the window.
Harry didn’t move, just stood watching his brother, uncertain what to do.
“Please, Harry, let it wait until later…”
Elena put her hand on Harry’s arm. She wanted him to go to one of the bedrooms, lie down and rest. He’d been without sleep for more than thirty hours, and she could hear the raw edge in his voice, see the emotional roller coaster of the last weeks in his eyes, and knew he had nothing left. He’d come back telling them about his calls to Adrianna and Eaton and his meeting with the police. The help he’d asked for that they could not give. He told them what Roscani had threatened and the agreement he’d made with him instead. He told them about Hercules. And about Thomas Kind. But Danny seemed to have heard only the part of it he wanted to hear—that the police and the state prosecutor would be waiting when they came back with Marsciano. As if the cardinal were some kind of spy or prisoner of war just waiting to deliver the intelligence he had gathered on the enemy.
“Danny—” Harry pulled away from Elena and walked toward his brother, his weariness propelling his intensity. “I understand your anger, and I respect how you feel about the cardinal. But for Christ’s sake, open your mind enough to understand Marsciano is all that stands between us and prison. If he doesn’t talk to the police and to the prosecutor, all of us”— Harry’s hand shot out, pointing toward Elena—“Elena included, are going to go away for a very long time.”
Slowly Danny turned from the window and looked at his brother. “Cardinal Marsciano will not bring down the Church, Harry,” he said calmly and quietly. “Not for you, for Sister Elena, for me, not even for himself.”
“What about—for the truth?”
“Not even for that…”
“Maybe you’re wrong.”
“I’m not.”
“Then I think, Danny”—Harry’s voice had the same quiet of his brother’s—“the best we can do is try to get him safely out and then let him decide…. If he says no, he says no…. Fair?”
There was a long silence, then, “Fair,” Danny whispered.
“Okay… ,” Harry said and then, exhaustion overtaking him, turned to Elena. “Where do I sleep?”
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