“No, he could not be my father.”
“Why not?” Maguire winked in the direction of his partner. “You’re both Russian, right? You’re both Jewish, right?”
Petrenko flinched. Muscles bunched along his shoulders as he took a small step towards Maguire. “I am no zhid,” he forced out, his color paling to a milk white. Resnick held his breath, his hand moving to his service revolver. Petrenko stopped, almost as if waking from a dream. Unclenching his fist, he sat down behind his desk.
“No offense,” Petrenko said to Resnick, a thin smile back in place.
Resnick gave his partner a signal to leave the office. Then, to Petrenko, “You want to call me a zhid or anything else, go right ahead. I look at you as nothing more than a rabid animal that needs to be put down, and one of these days I’m hoping to get my chance.”
“Is that a threat, Detective?”
“No threat. Simply a statement of fact. I’m going to be spending a lot of time on State Street looking after these Russian store owners. I hope I get a chance to see you down there.”
Once they were back in their car, Maguire turned to Resnick. “What the hell was that about?”
“I took a long shot that we could bait Petrenko into assaulting you. Almost worked.”
“Thanks,” Maguire said, his face reddening. “I appreciate the thought.”
“You might have taken a punch, but in the long run it would have been worth it to put that psycho away, or better yet, have an excuse to put a bullet in his ear.”
“Nice of you to volunteer me for something like that.”
“I had no choice. He would’ve ignored any comment coming from me.”
Maguire sat stewing for a minute. Shaking his head, he asked, “Why did he go mental over me calling him Jewish?”
“In Russia, only gentiles are considered true Russians, Jews are considered something else. A lot of these so-called pure Russians like Petrenko are as anti-Semitic as they come.” Resnick paused, a darkness muddling his features. “To him, the money he extorts from these store owners is nothing, just loose change. He does it because he feels it’s his duty to exercise an iron fist over them.”
Resnick found an open parking spot in front of one of the divey bars that lined Washington Street and pulled into it. “Lunch time,” he said.
“I don’t think they serve food here.”
“We’ll see.”
Once inside Resnick ordered a double shot of bourbon and, after downing that, ordered another.
“I don’t feel comfortable drinking on the job,” Maguire said.
“Don’t then. This is just my version of a three-martini lunch. Something I need after dealing with Viktor Petrenko.”
Maguire rubbed a hand across his jaw as he watched his partner drink down his second shot and signal the bartender for a third. “Something that’s been bothering me. What’s the sense of trashing the store? How can Petrenko expect those people to be able to keep making their payments if their business is shut down?”
“They have no choice about making their payments, they’ll just have to find a way. And as far as smashing up the store, when the insurance check comes in it will go right into Petrenko’s pockets.”
The bartender refilled the shot glass. “That’s all you’re getting,” he told Resnick. Resnick nodded and took the bourbon in one gulp. Giving the car keys to Maguire, he held his hand out palm down and saw that for the first time since Petrenko had moved on his partner his hand had stopped shaking.
8
Holy shit. I’m going to be robbing that damn bank.
Even after all of his planning, the bank robbery had never seemed real to Dan. At some level, he must’ve been hoping that Joel would turn him down, that he would have an excuse to back out. Now that Joel was in, the robbery was no longer a vague concept. They were going to do it. He was going to do it. When the realization had first hit him it left him numb. Driving back from New Hampshire, he could barely pay attention to the road. It was as if he were on autopilot, moving without any thought or awareness. Kind of like he was stoned on some powerful shit. He remembered stopping off at home. His hair was wet so he probably took a shower, and he had a fuzzy recollection of talking with both his children, but that was all. On his way to Gordon’s he must’ve stopped off for a pizza and a six-pack of Guinness because as he pulled into the complex he noticed the items on the front seat next to him.
Gordon was waiting in the parking lot, his belly pushing out of a worn tie-dye T-shirt, his shorts barely containing his body. He met Dan at the car.
“Hey, Dan, I thought I’d catch a few rays while waiting. So what do you want to do, eat at one of the picnic tables or go inside?”
“Why don’t we go inside?”
Gordon took the six-pack, and as they walked, Dan tried to act casually. He tapped his friend on the stomach. “Putting on a little weight there, huh, buddy?”
Gordon showed a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I need to get new clothes. My back’s been kind of iffy, my knees also, so I can’t really run any more. Without the exercise I’m gaining weight like crazy. I’m becoming a regular fatso. Have you heard from anyone?”
“Not really, but we’ll talk inside.”
As they walked Gordon asked about Shrini and other mutual friends, but Dan couldn’t keep his train of thought long enough to answer. When they got to Gordon’s apartment, a panic overtook him. At first he couldn’t breathe, almost as if a fist were squeezing his heart. He knew he was sweating profusely. The room started to tilt sideways on him. Somehow he made his way to a chair and collapsed on it, praying that he’d stay conscious and not pass out. Time seemed to skip ahead as he watched Gordon talking a mile a minute, the animated motion of his mouth disconnected from the noise that was coming from him, his voice becoming nothing more than a buzz running through Dan’s head.
Almost as if a switch had been thrown, a calm came over him. With a clarity of thought, he accepted that the robbery was going to happen. More than that he had somehow become at peace with the idea. The buzzing in his head was replaced by a coolness. The world seemed to slow down on him. He asked Gordon if he could use the bathroom.
“Uh, sure, but what do you think?”
“I don’t know. Ask me again when I get back.”
“Jeez, haven’t you even heard what I’ve been saying?”
Dan signaled with a hand for him to wait then walked slowly to the bathroom, his legs too rubbery to move at a normal pace. Inside, he turned the cold water on full and splashed it on his face for a full minute before looking up at the mirror. His skin was pale and clammy, with no color whatsoever in his lips. He was pretty sure he had only suffered a panic attack and that it had nothing to do with his heart. Still, he couldn’t keep from showing a sick grin as he thought about Gordon being so wrapped up in his own world that he hadn’t even noticed what must’ve looked like a full-blown heart attack.
The only towel in the bathroom appeared to have been rubbed with mud. Dan used his damp shirt to dry off his face. When he went back out to meet Gordon, three slices of pizza were gone and two empty Guinness bottles lay on the floor. Gordon finished off the slice he was working on and rubbed a hand across his face, leaving a streak of grease in its place.
“Jeez, Dan, I was telling you before about Elena. Remember a few months ago I flew her to Cancun? I got an email from her yesterday. She’s blowing me off for some guy in Oregon. I think she met him while we were in Cancun.”
“Gordon, I’m not in the mood to talk about this.”
“Well, excuse me, then.” Gordon leaned back in his chair, an indignant look pushing on to his face. “All I wanted was your opinion. After all, I just got dumped.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. Go ahead, what did you want to ask me?”
“Well, what do you think I should do?”
“I’m confused. I thought you’ve been telling me for the last couple of months you don’t even like her.”