Rizzo sat back, reaching for his near empty cigarette pack. He offered one to Intrafiore, was declined, and lit his own. Then, blowing smoke at the tabletop, he raised his eyes back to meet the hostile stare.
“No,” he said. “No. What I was figurin’ was, why bust my ass with this? I got other things to do. More important things. See, I figure I can get a little help on this one.”
Intrafiore smiled brazenly. “Yeah, from who? The African queen over here?”
“No, Zee-Boy. Not this time.” Rizzo dragged again on the cigarette, then casually tapped ashes onto the old, worn linoleum floor, noting the slight flicker of anger in Intrafiore’s eyes.
“The Chink, kid. We all know how the old man feels about the neighborhood. If it ain’t him doin’ the stealin’, he’s a very righteous guy. So I’m thinking I go direct to him with the situation. I tell him, ‘Hey, Louie, you know those two old Italians got robbed? And the old Chinese couple? Guess who did that shit, Louie, right under your nose. It was Zee-Boy Intrafiore and his band a retards.’ ” Rizzo nodded slowly. “Yeah, then I say somethin’ like, ‘Imagine that, Louie? A wise-ass kid like Zee-Boy havin’ no respect for the neighborhood. Havin’ no respect for you. And me without enough evidence to make an arrest stick.’ ” Rizzo locked eyes with Intrafiore.
“Best you can hope for is a busted head, Zee-Boy. And no graduation day. Not one of The Chink’s captains’ll ever put you to work knowin’ the old man has a hard-on for you. You’ll be boostin’ car radios and runnin’ numbers for The Bath Beach Boys till your Social Security kicks in.”
Rizzo sat back, drawing deeply on his cigarette. “Unless, of course, somehow Louie was to get the impression it was you personally robbed them old bastards. Then I don’t figure you for any Social Security payments.” He turned to Priscilla. “How many quarters you need before you can collect Social Security, Cil?” he asked.
Priscilla smiled sweetly, her eyes on Intrafiore. “Forty,” she said. “Ten years.”
Rizzo nodded. “Yeah, like I thought.” He turned back to Intrafiore. “Whaddya think, Zee?” he asked. “You figure you can dodge The Chink for forty quarters?”
Intrafiore hesitated for a moment, his face impassive, before spitting out, “You got shit, Rizzo. You’re bluffin’. Whaddya tryin’ to impress Oprah here, show her what a tough guy you are, maybe grab some black ass on a night shift sometime?”
“Now Zee-Boy,” Rizzo said calmly, “you know me better than that.” He paused, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it out slowly under his shoe. Then he raised his eyes back to the Rebel leader. “You wanna try me out, asshole? Go ahead. Try me out.”
Intrafiore tapped a finger on the tabletop, looking from one cop to the other before responding.
“Why would I let one of my guys pull local robberies? You think I’m that stupid? You think Chink’ll figure me for that stupid?”
“I don’t know,” Rizzo said with a shrug, “and I don’t give a fuck, either. I do know the perp is a Rebel, and I know you know he’s a Rebel. So, real soon Quattropa’s gonna know, too. Then my problem goes away.” He paused. “End of fuckin’ story. It’s hardball time, kid. If I wanted to, I could pick up a little coke somewheres, H maybe, grab you on the street some night, lock you up for possession. That violates your probation, and you go upstate. Your Youthful Offender days are over. Welcome to the big leagues. I can fuck you ten different ways and not break a sweat. But I’m givin’ you a chance here. I’m tryin’ to be nice. Tryin’ to do the right thing and give you a chance to help out with this. But you’re wearin’ my patience a little here.”
Intrafiore snorted. “Fuck you,” he said.
Now Priscilla stood slowly, placing her hands down on the table-top, leaning in toward Zee-Boy’s face. “You be nice to Sergeant Rizzo now, or I just might have to put my big black foot up your little white ass.”
“See, Zee-Boy,” Rizzo said. “You just piss people off. You better learn it ain’t done like that in the big leagues.”
Priscilla smiled at Intrafiore, an evil glint in her dark eyes. Slowly, she sat back down. Intrafiore swung indifferent eyes from her and back to Rizzo. After a slight pause, he spoke in a soft, almost pensive tone.
“So, how’s it done, Joe?” he asked simply.
Rizzo nodded. “Now that’s more like it. You give me a name. I get the vics to eyeball the guy. If they make him, end of story. If they can’t, you squeeze the guy’s balls till he cops. I already showed the Rebel face book around. The perp ain’t one of your made guys. This kid has no record, he’s new. He can stand a fall. I got a pretty strong feelin’ you know exactly who he is, some new psycho even you’re having trouble controllin’. Now’s your chance to smack him down before he starts recruitin’ against you, and save your own neck with Chink at the same time. You gotta figure Louie’s already looking at these street robberies, already gettin’ his Sicilian balls twisted. You give up the kid, I arrange it so Louie Quattropa will never know the perp is one of your guys. Then we all live happily ever after here in Never-Never Land.”
He smiled at Intrafiore. “That’s how it’s done.”
The young man pushed a hand across his buzz cut, looking again from one detective to the other.
“So you want me to hand you one of my guys? Like some pussy lawyer cuttin’ a deal? That’s what you want?”
“ ‘Want’ has nothin’ to do with this,” Rizzo said with a shrug. “ ‘Want’ is for kids. This ain’t kid stuff, Zee-Boy. You make this deal or you got Quattropa or me or maybe both of us on your ass. However it plays, this kid you got off the reservation, he’s goin’ down. Either to me or Chink. Difference is, if it’s Quattropa, you’re goin’ down with him. I’ll make sure that’s how it plays.”
Both detectives stood.
“Think about it,” Rizzo said, fishing a card from his pocket and dropping it onto the table. “Call me with the kid’s name. My arrest report will never mention the Rebels. I guarantee it. Consider it a favor I’m doin’ you.”
As he turned to leave, Rizzo faced Intrafiore one last time.
“You got till Tuesday,” he said, his eyes hard, his tone flat.
The two detectives showed themselves out. Intrafiore sat in silence for a moment, then sighed, picking up Rizzo’s card.
He leaned back in his seat, slipping the card into the front pocket of his tight black jeans.
“Shit,” he said softly.
“ So,” Priscilla said as she drove the Impala slowly back toward the precinct house. “You think he’ll go for it?”
Rizzo shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not feelin’ real optimistic. I think maybe my history with the kid could work against us. Maybe I shoulda let the precinct youth officer, Olivero, handle this, or maybe Ginsberg and his partner.”
“Who?” Priscilla asked.
“Mark Ginsberg and his partner, George Parker, the detectives who caught the first two robberies.”
“Well, it makes sense for the kid to go for it,” Priscilla said. “After all, if he’s looking to move up to the mob, he can’t be pissin’ off the goombahs. Especially Quattropa. It makes definite sense for Zee-Boy to give up the perp.”
Rizzo nodded. “Yeah, I know. But Zee-Boy is still just a kid. Kids do stupid shit. And he’s more than a little crazy, maybe crazy enough to want to thumb his nose at The Chink.”
Priscilla frowned and shook her head. “Crazy is one thing, stupid is somethin’ else. Why would he take a chance like that?”
“Couple a reasons,” Rizzo speculated. “One is, maybe he really isn’t afraid of Quattropa. He sure as hell should be, but that don’t mean he is. Also, from word I hear, one of Louie’s captains, guy named Mike Spano, is maybe plannin’ a move.”
“Against Quattropa?” Priscilla asked.
“Yeah. I heard about it from a friend a mine works over at OCCB. He figured I might be able to use the info, since Spano operates outta Brooklyn. They call the guy ‘Mikey the Hammer.’ Made his rep as a button man.”