But Cavello could be just about anywhere now.
"There's something else, Nick." Ray Hughes exhaled."Ralph Denunziatta's sister was found late yesterday. She was shot in her home-right between the eyes. A neighbor who was apparently visiting with her was shot dead, too."
"Christ!"
"Nine millimeter, same caliber that was used at the courthouse. We're checking the ballistics now. But listen, it gets worse."
"Worse? How can it get worse?"
"There was a kid there. The police found Denunziatta's one-year-old grandniece in the kitchen."
"Oh, come on, Ray."
"She's alive. But listen to this. She's got severe burns over her face and hands. Hot-water burns, Nick. What kind of creeped-out monster is this, anyway? There was a note scribbledon the kid's bib. The handwriting people are looking it over now."
An explosive, tightening rage balled up in my gut."What did it say?"
"It said, ‘I keep my promises.'"
Chapter 77
I WAS BURNING NOW, on fire.
I went home and took that shower. The whole time I kept thinking of Ralphie's sister and that poor little one-year-old kid. On top of all the other things I was close to exploding about, now this horror. I sat there in my towel, staring at the photos of that animal Cavello I had stuck on the kitchen wall. The piles of useless accumulated evidence.
Until I couldn't stand it anymore.
I dressed and went and got my Saab out of the lot on Eleventh Avenue. But I wasn't headed to the office.
It didn't matter anymore about what was right or"appropriate" behavior.
I crossed the river through the Lincoln Tunnel and turned onto Route 3, to Secaucus, New Jersey. Secaucus was what came to my mind when they called New Jersey the"armpit of the universe." Miles and miles of drive-in, big-box malls and fast-food franchises, stuck in between a toxic swamp and the Jersey Turnpike.
About a mile down 3, I pulled into the lot of a drab, two-story cinder-block building I knew well. United Workers of Electrical Contractors of New Jersey.
Local 407. Cavello's outfit.
I opened the glass door and went straight past the startled receptionist, flashing my FBI shield."I'm going up to see Frankie Delsavio."
The receptionist jumped up."Excuse me, sir, you can't just…"
I didn't even wait for her to finish the sentence.
Two broad-shouldered men, who figured this as their job description, jumped out of their chairs to block my way.
"Don't even try it," I said as one of them stretched an arm out in front of me. My eyes were flashing and probably a little crazy."You understand?"
"Mr. Delsavio's not around," the goon grunted, looking as if he had flunked the screen test forThe Sopranos.Too fucking large.
I shoved my ID in his face."This is the last time I say this nicely.Get out of my way. "
I hustled up the stairs, moving on pure adrenaline. Everyone in the building was probably connected. Feds didn't burst in here alone, without backup.
The second floor was filled with union offices. Cavello's people who got the cushy assignments, doing nothing but collecting cash. I went down the hall as the bozos from the lobby followed behind. A few secretaries looked up, trying to figure out what was going on.
Another guy stepped in my way. Dark glasses and an open, wide-collar shirt over a polyester suit."'Scuse me, sir!" He flipped open his jacket, exposing his piece. I didn't even wait for him to pull it.I pulled mine.
I stuck the muzzle under his nose and pushed the startled gangster against the wall. I pressed my FBI ID close to his face."Thissays, ‘yes, I can.'"
People started getting up from their desks behind me. I saw that the two goons who'd followed me from the lobby had their pieces out.
"This is a legitimate, private business," the guy against the wall declared."Our corporate counsel is down the hall. You're here without an appointment or a legitimate business purpose. Show me a subpoena or a warrant, Special Agent, or get the hell out."
I pressed the gun into his cheek."I asked to see Frank Delsavio."
"As you were told"-and he looked at me straight on-“Mr. Delsavio is not on the premises. You can't see him if he's not here."
Just then, a door opened at the end of the hall. A heavyset man stepped out, ruddy cheeks, hair combed over, in a short nylon jacket and an open plaid shirt.
"Agent Pellisante," Frank Delsavio said in a raspy voice."Sallie, why didn't you just tell me it was Special Agent Pellisante? I just came back in. C'mon, step into my office. They musta not known I was here."
Chapter 78
"IT IS STILL SPECIAL AGENT, isn't it?" Delsavio grinned."Or maybe we should call you Professor. I hear you were teachin' a class."
Frankie was Dominic Cavello's longtime number two, but in the big boss's absence, he was running the show. On the family chart he was known as the Underboss. He'd been married for thirty years to one of Vito Genovese's nieces. Royalty, Cosa Nostra-style. But not exactly one of the Five Good Emperors. He'd probably ordered ten to twenty murders we couldn't pin him on.
I followed Frank into his office. There was a cheap hardwood desk cluttered with pictures of his family. On the walls there were some cheesy prints of Italy and a signed photo of Derek Jeter eating at one of Frankie's restaurants. A few tubes containing rolled-up architectural plans were leaning against the wall. I smiled. I wasn't sure if Frankie Delsavio had ever been near a construction site in his life.
"So you have to excuse me." He motioned me to sit."I've been out of touch the past few days. Down in Atlantic City, checking out a big site. So tell me"-he grinned, smirking-“how goes the trial?"
"Fuck you, you cockroach," I said, grabbing him by the collar and taking him right out of his leather chair and pushing him against the wall."I want to know where he is."
A few books and artifacts fell to the floor. The grin on Frank Delsavio's face disappeared. This was not a small man, and no one, not even the cops, pushed him around.
"I invited you in here as a friend, Nicky Smiles. There's about two dozen people out there who don't have much to do in their life. They can blow off your head. You're not even on active duty, Pellisante. You sure you wanna do this now?"
"I asked about Cavello," I said, pushing him harder against the wall.
"How would I know, Nicky? I told you, I've been out of touch. Besides, the Boss doesn't clue me in on every little decision he makes."
"Every little decision." I smiled, the rancor boiling over inside."You know, Frankie, the only reason I never closed you down was because I thought you had the only sense of humor in this shitbag outfit. Otherwise, you'd be waiting foryour trial, same as him. But I'll bring you in, Frankie. I could do it tomorrow. There's enough on you, I swear. We'll close this whole operation down. You'll all lose the Beamers, your fat-cat jobs."
"You know what I think, Nicky?" Frankie stared as he spoke. He shook his head at me with a little smile."I don't think you have the clout to do that right now. I don't even think you're on this case. The only reason I let you in here was out of respect to your past position. Now I'd appreciate it if you'd let go of my shirt-before I call in our lawyer down the hall and he slaps you and the Bureau with a harassment suit. That wouldn't go over well in the classroom, would it, Nicky?"