Nudelli puffed his cigar thoughtfully.
‘There is that,’ he allowed.
Al said, ‘Hear the guy out. After all, business is business and personal shouldn’t ever get in the way of that, right?’
‘You’re right, of course.’ Nudelli leaned forward and took hold of Al by the cheek and then slapped him gently.
‘Just taking care of business, Tony.’
Nudelli regarded his cigar’s wet end and nodded thoughtfully.
Al said, ‘I didn’t know you were from Jersey City.’
‘It was me or some other poor bastard.’
‘What happened to the Jewish broad? The one you were in love with.’
‘How the fuck should I know?’
Jimmy Figaro drove the big BMW across the Rickenbacker Causeway, just south of where his offices were located. The road soared high over Biscayne Bay and provided Figaro’s uninterested passenger with an unparalleled view of the Brickell Avenue skyline. The first island was Virginia Key, once set aside for Miami’s black community and a large sewage plant. The next island was Key Biscayne. Steering the car with one finger now, because everything was more laid back on Key Biscayne, Figaro came down Crandon Boulevard, heading south toward Cape Florida before turning west onto Harbor Drive.
Figaro glanced over at Dave and said, ‘Tony’s place is just down the road from where Richard Nixon used to live.’
‘Tricky Dicky. Yeah, that figures.’
‘You a Democrat?’
‘What’s the difference to a bad guy like me?’
‘Haven’t you ever voted for someone?’
‘Sure. I voted for the prisoners’ representative in Homestead. Choice was between a murderer and a rapist. I chose the murderer.’
‘Who won?’
‘The murderer.’
‘What about on the outside?’
‘On the outside it doesn’t matter who represents you. The murderer or the rapist.’
‘That’s not much of a political philosophy.’
‘After you’ve been in prison there’s only one political philosophy that matters a damn and that’s keeping your ass out of prison.’
The car was now gliding smoothly through an immaculately manicured community fringed with Australian pines and coconut palms and one white palace after another, like so many wedding cakes.
Figaro changed the subject and said, ‘Harbor Bayfront Villas is one of Miami’s most exclusive addresses. Tony’s villa is right on the bay.’
‘No kidding.’
Figaro slowed and turned down a private road, pulling up at a gatehouse where he gave both their names to the guard. The guard checked them on a clipboard list and then waved them on through the elevating barrier.
‘Round here is the last word in European splendor,’ Figaro enthused.
‘Outside of Europe, you might be right.’ Dave grinned. ‘You really like it round here, don’t you, Jimmy?’
‘Wouldn’t anyone?’ nodded Figaro. ‘I mean, wouldn’t you just love to live here.’
They pulled up in front of a two-storey open bay villa with full dock and davits. Dave noted the 100-foot motor yacht that was moored there and then turned his attention to the house. With its pantiled roof, keystone columns and arches, and courtyard with fountain, the place looked as if it had been transplanted from a hill in Tuscany.
Dave said, ‘I’d sure like to be able to afford to live here. If I could then I’d use the money to live somewhere nice, like London, or Paris. Miami sucks.’
‘One man’s meat, I guess,’ said Figaro.
‘And Miami is a cheeseburger.’
They got out of the car, walked up to the front door and were admitted to an atrium foyer with a marble floor and a curving stone staircase. One of Nudelli’s bodyguards frisked Dave and then a butler walked them upstairs to an opulent mahogany-panelled library where Nudelli and Al Cornaro were seated inside a stockade of green leather chesterfields. The two men got up and crossed the aquamarine Bokhara rug, and Dave allowed himself to be embraced by the man who’d ordered his fingers broken.
Nudelli said, ‘Hey Al, will you take a look at this guy? Five years in the joint and he looks like he spent the summer in Palm Springs. Jesus, Dave, you look great. You look like a fuckin’ movie star.’
‘You’re not looking so bad yourself, Tony,’ Dave said patiently.
Nudelli slapped his own belly hard.
‘Keepin’ fit, y’know? Swim every day. Watch what I eat. You want something to eat? Drink maybe? We got everything. Silver fuckin’ service. We’re like the frigging Admirals’ Club out here.’
‘No, I’m OK, thanks Tony.’
‘Jimmy?’
‘Just a coffee.’
‘Miggy?’ Nudelli was speaking to the butler. ‘Couple of coffees.’
They sat down inside the stockade.
Nudelli said, ‘Five years.’
Dave said, ‘Five years, yeah.’
‘You did good.’
‘At the time, it seemed the thing to do, Tony.’
‘Dave. About that little misunderstanding with Willy Barizon.’
‘Hey, forget about it. These things happen.’
‘It’s good of you to see it that way, Dave.’
‘You know after Willy’s cold call I got to thinking about things from your POV, Tony. And I said to myself, I said: Dave, while you were on the inside, Tony knew where you were and what you were doing. It’s a variant on what Machiavelli says about composite principalities, Tony. Being on the spot you can detect trouble at the start and deal with it pronto; but if you’re absent the trouble’s discerned only when it’s too fuckin’ late.’
Tony said, ‘I heard you got yourself educated. Is that so? Machiavelli, huh? Sounds Italian.’
‘From Florence.’
‘That night you was with Benny Cecchino—’
‘You mean in the restaurant where you shot him?’
‘Yeah. What were you and he talking about?’
Dave shrugged and said, ‘A business proposition. Why else would anyone talk to Benny?’
‘Did you owe him money?’
‘No.’ Dave grinned. ‘I didn’t get a chance to. Your sudden arrival on the scene put paid to that.’
‘You know, Benny had a mouth like a V8.’
Dave said, ‘He was nothing to me. But from what I heard he had it coming.’
‘Nice of you to say so.’ Nudelli looked rueful. ‘I had more of a temper then. Well, this was five years ago. Five years is a long time. I’m sure you of all people don’t need reminding of that.’
Dave waited for Tony Nudelli to say something else and when he didn’t Dave decided to segue along to the purpose of his requested meeting.
‘Talking of business propositions, Tony, I’ve got one I think you might be interested in.’ Dave unfolded his laptop computer. ‘The sweetest idea you ever heard.’
‘I’m always interested in sweet ideas. Isn’t that so, Al?’
‘Always.’
Nudelli said, ‘Before you say another word, Dave.’ Nudelli glanced over at Jimmy, now drinking his coffee. ‘For someone like Jimmy, information is pressure. Sometimes the less he has, the more freedom and space there is for him. He likes to work in a vacuum. To know only what he needs to know. Especially if there are any inherent illegalities. So let me ask you, does Jimmy need to hear this? Or does he need to take a walk?’
‘I think maybe he should take a walk,’ agreed Dave.
Dave watched Figaro leave the library and when he looked back he thought that maybe Tony had false teeth and that they must have slipped off his jaw until he realized that it was some kind of little contraption made of steel and plastic and that Tony was using it to exercise the muscles in his face. Noting Dave’s expression Nudelli tongued the thing onto the palm of his hand. It looked like a tiny crutch.