The men hugged briefly, Buda having difficulty getting his arms around Berti.
“Let’s not be strangers,” Berti said, waving.
Buda got in his car, but before he drove away, he called Fatos Toptani, his most trusted man back in the Bronx. In the Buda organization, Fatos was number two.
“It’s me. I need to get hold of someone right now. Name is Burim Graziani, one of Ristani’s crew. He’s working down in South Jersey…. No, no, nothing heavy, I just need to ask him a question. Yeah . . . Something ain’t right here.”
From his office, Ristani waited a couple of minutes till he thought Buda had left the premises, then made a phone call of his own.
57.
GREEN POND, NEW JERSEY MARCH 25, 2011, 8:52 P.M.
Prek was pleased to leave the tense atmosphere of the house even to undertake the menial task of cleaning out the van, something Neri should be doing. Prek was going crazy just sitting around, waiting for Buda to call to give either a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down. The other two numskulls could not stop talking about sex and who was going to be first even though the woman was no longer in their sight.
In a closet in the house he found a mop and bucket and an inventory of cleaning supplies, including a battery-operated hand vacuum mounted on the wall. Prek filled the bucket with water and poured in a generous quantity of Pine-Sol, loaded up the gear, and walked out to the van. In the morning, they would take it to a car wash and take care of the outside of the vehicle; for now Prek wanted to make sure the interior was free of any trace of the girl. He vacuumed the cab and washed down all the surfaces with Windex. When he was finished he moved to the back to continue his work when his cell phone rang.
At last, he thought.
Neri Krasnigi got up from the couch in the living room, went to the window, and watched Prek get in the back of the van with his wet mop. There’s Prek doing women’s work, he thought to himself. It seemed appropriate. He hadn’t been able to get Pia out of his mind, and he also felt slighted by Prek’s attitude toward him. Through the whole job, Prek had ordered him around, throwing stuff at him in the van, giving him the toughest part of the mission but showing him no respect at all. Even when Prek told him he did a good job it was in the tone of voice you’d use with a puppy who was taking a piss outside.
Neri had forgotten the initial terror he’d felt after he shot the student. Now he was feeling bold, accomplished, entitled-feelings that had heightened when he chugged down the last of the Red Bull. Perhaps he had a chance to show up Prek and have some fun in the process, even if it would have to be a private triumph.
Neri went to check on Genti, who’d fallen asleep on one of the sofas. With Prek out of the house and busy and Genti asleep, Neri thought he could risk a quickie. After all, what could Prek do? Neri slipped a hand into his jacket to briefly fondle his gun. It gave him courage. He was his own boss.
Being careful not to make a sound that might wake Genti, Neri slipped into the master bedroom and went over to the bed, took a good look at Pia. She was again supine, clearly breathing, but she looked as dead to the world as she had when they’d first brought her into the house. Tiptoeing, he went back to see what Prek was doing and when he walked to the kitchen window, he could see the van’s doors were open with someone inside. With Prek attending to his housekeeping duties, Neri thought he was safe for at least ten or fifteen minutes. With mounting excitement, Neri went to the front door and threw the dead bolt. Then he quickly tiptoed back into the master bedroom, literally shaking with excitement. He closed the door.
So what does that mean for us?” Prek asked Buda. He wasn’t sure he understood what his boss was trying to tell him.
“It means we don’t do anything with the girl till I figure out what’s going on with this moron Drilon.”
“You’re sure he was lying?” Prek couldn’t understand why someone might lie when asked a direct, simple question about whether someone was related to them or not.
“I’m pretty sure. Everything about his behavior told me he was lying. When I asked him a direct question, he hesitated and then started stammering that he didn’t know if he was related or not. It was obvious to me he knows the name. And it’s practically his name. If you’re gonna change your name, change your name.”
“And his boss didn’t say anything?” Prek asked, meaning Berti Ristani.
“Nothing. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t want to say anything with me sitting there. I bet it’s the latter because he’s not stupid. It’s this Drilon guy who’s stupid.”
“Why would he lie about something like that? He must know what the implications are.”
“I would assume as much,” Buda said. This, of course, was the question that was nagging at him. If Drilon Graziani was lying, it meant whatever he was trying to conceal from his boss was more important to him than this girl’s life, even if she was a relative. Paradoxically, that fact made the girl suddenly more valuable to Buda, even if he didn’t know why. This was the reason it was so important for him to talk to Burim Graziani, if that was actually his name. Buda figured that Ristani had also realized Drilon was lying, which had an entirely separate set of consequences.
Buda himself didn’t appreciate being lied to, especially by a subordinate, and he wouldn’t want to be in Drilon’s shoes if Buda was right about his supposition. It also put Buda in a tricky position. His visit was probably now the cause of a problem within the Ristani crew. He hoped Berti didn’t blame him for that.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Buda said, meaning that he wasn’t comfortable having even this guarded a conversation over a cell phone line. “I’m coming up there to the summer house. Just make sure our guest is treated as a guest until this is cleared up,” Buda said.
“Will do,” Prek said, ending the call. He’d left Genti in charge in the house, and he trusted him, for the most part. But he thought he’d better check.
Immediately after talking with Prek, Buda got another call on his headset.
“Aleksander, it’s Berti. Sorry to bother you.”
“No bother, Berti,” Buda said.
“I talked with Burim,” Berti said. “I asked him about Pia Grazdani, wondering if he’d ever heard the name. And you know what? He said he did. Can you believe that?”
“No,” said Buda, but he could.
“Then Burim called back and said one of your guys tried to call him.” Berti said nothing more and left the statement hanging in the air. Buda thought he’d better play it straight.
“I did have one of my guys call Burim,” Buda admitted. “You know as well as I do, Berti, Drilon acted strangely to my question. My sense was that he was lying. I figure that’s your business, him lying to you, but he lied to me too. If I could ask the brother, maybe I wouldn’t have to bother you directly. But I have to find out so I can deal with the woman I’m holding without starting a blood feud.”
“I appreciate that, Aleksander. Of course, none of us want another blood feud: Albanian brother against Albanian brother. Of course I noticed Drilon was lying, and I called him back after you left and asked him again. I said, ‘No fucking around,’ and he said yeah, well, maybe he did know a Pia Grazdani. He tried to say he’d forgotten because he hasn’t heard the name or seen the girl for twenty-some-odd years.”
Buda was relieved that Berti was seeing it his way.
“So what do we do, Berti?”
“You hold on, I can conference you through to Burim.”
“I need to make another quick call first,” Buda said.
“Okay. Do what you need to do, then call me right back.”
Buda was navigating a complicated course but calmly made his call to Prek. When Prek picked up, Buda spoke and didn’t give Prek a chance to respond. He told Prek that he had to talk to a man named Burim Graziani before he could say yea or nay about Pia Grazdani. He said he was about to talk with him, so he’d be getting back to Prek straightaway with a final answer. “Hold the course with our guest for another half-hour or so,” Buda said. “I thought I’d also let you know I’m only about a half-hour away. I’m in Wayne, on Route 23. I’ll be back to you shortly.”