Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [34]
"Some computer thing, I think," shrugged Liam. "I'm taking it to a guy named Taj in Brooklyn..."
"Brooklyn!"
"Brooklyn Heights. It's no big deal. I'll take the 7 train to Times Square, then switch to the Number 2. That'll take me to close to Atlantic Avenue. I'll have to hoof it from there. It's a gatch walk but I've done it before..."
"But not in the middle of the night."
Liam swallowed the dregs of his tea, ignoring the cookies, and lifted the case.
"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?"
"Nah, ain't hungry."
Caitlin rubbed her hand through his mop of hair, the red-gold bangs hanging in his face like a sheepdog. How did it get so long, so quick? she wondered. First thing tomorrow, she was giving it a trim. "Tell me, Liam, and don't lie. Is this delivery on the up-and-up?"
"Sure, what do you think? Shamus owns an electronics store, he's not some criminal."
Caitlin sighed. She knew Liam looked up to Shamus like an older brother. They owed him for his help, that was certain. Finding her a job. Paying for Liam's Catholic school. But Shamus and his brother weren't exactly freshly washed sheets. She'd seen them talking quietly in this pub with enough shady types to guess they didn't get all their computer parts by way of legitimate wholesale. Whether they were moving stolen merchandise for small-time thugs or buying crates that "fell off' trucks driven by patsies for organized crime, she didn't know for sure. She just didn't want Liam involved in that part of their business. She wouldn't abide having her brother turned into a common thief.
"Liam, tell me what Shamus said. I want to know exactly what he's putting you up to."
He shrugged. "Taj has some store in Brooklyn — a deli. He has one of those computerized registers that takes credit cards and bank cards and stuff. It's probably broken. I'm taking him some kind of component, that's all."
"Anything else?"
"Chill out, Cait. I've done this before, you know."
"But not at such an ungodly hour."
Liam laughed. "And I'm bein' paid well for it, which is fine by me. Take it easy, will you? Shamus said he never even met Taj. He's just a customer. They do all their work over the phone!"
Caitlin sighed. "All right, all right... it sounds like it's on the up-and-up...and you might as well know that Shamus talked to me about giving you a job..."
"He did!"
"Hush. Yes, he did. But you're not to mention that I told you. I just want to make sure what Shamus is doing is honest work, that he won't involve you in anything shady."
"Who cares, so long as it's profitable?"
Caitlin shook her brother's shoulders. "Don't talk like that. There's more important things than money."
Liam threw his head back and laughed. "Not here in America, sis. In America money is everything."
"Hush your mouth."
"No way," Liam replied. "I'm sick of wearin' charity shop Nikes and listenin' to the radio instead of playin' CDs. I want a Nintendo. I want my own PC. And I'm tired of livin' in some dump of an apartment above an old pub. Aren't you?"
* * *
1:55:33 A.M. EDT
The lower level of the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge
"I'm tellin' you, man. You ain't seen anything this fine. These bitches ain't whores and they ain't hookers. They're high-class, know what I'm sayin'? Carne dulce."
The white SUV bumped onto the ramp, climbing the bridge that spanned the East River from Queens to Manhattan. Dante Arete rolled down the window to disperse the fog in his head from too many beers, too much cocaine. For the last three hours, he'd been partying with his lieutenant at strip clubs on the Queens side of the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge. Now the stout drug dealer with the shaved head and tattoo of bloody thorns around his neck was driving him to a whore-house that one of his Manhattan clients frequented.
"Word," the lieutenant told Dante, "these sluts...they'll make you feel like a fuckin' king."
The noise level increased as the van entered the mile-long lower level, which was enclosed in a steel support structure.