Martinez threw something at Matt who caught it. It was a book of matches.Oaks and Pines Resort Lodge.
"What's this?"
"It's a fancy place in the Poconos," Jesus said.
"So?"
"I called a guy I know in Vice and asked him did he ever hear about it, and he told me that there's a room in the back for high rollers; that the word is that the Mob owns it."
"So?"
"This doesn't smell to you, Payne?" Martinez said, seemingly torn between surprise and contempt.
"I take back what I said before. You should not go to Internal Affairs. What you have is a guy that gambles. At this lodge, and in Las Vegas. And right now, he's lucky. The only thing I can see he's done illegally is gamble in the Poconos. That's a misdemeanor, as opposed to a felony. Like being in possession of burglar tools is a felony."
"What did I tell you he'd say, Hay-zus?" Charley McFadden said.
"I got thefeeling, Charley," Jesus said. "This guy is dirty."
"What's he doing?"
"They're smuggling drugs through the airport, most likely off Eastern Airlines flights from Puerto Rico, and probably from Mexico City flights too."
"Youknow this?"
"Everybody knows it, Matt," Charley said. "The feds, Customs Service, and the Bureau of Drugs and Dangerous Narcotics…"
"Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs," Jesus interrupted to correct him.
"Whatever the fuck they are, they're all over the place."
"They haven't caught this guy, then, have they?" Matt responded.
"Iwant to catch this fucker," Jesus said.
You're not a detective, Martinez- You're a simple police officer who took the detective's exam and flunked it.
You are an arrogant, self-satisfied shit, aren't you, Matthew Payne? Martinez is not only not a rookie, he's spent a lot of time dealing with drug people when he was in Narcotics. He knows what he's talking about.
"What do you want from me, Hay-zus?"
"I told him he ought to go to Wohl," Charley said. "He says he doesn't want to."
"Why not?" Matt asked, meeting Martinez's eyes.
"I don't work for Wohl anymore, for one thing. And even if I did, how the hell could I go to Wohl and tell him the reason I know this fucker runs around with almost ten thousand in his glove compartment is because I looked?"
"'Broke into his car' are the words you're looking for," Matt said.
"I told Hay-zus Wohl, or at least Pekach, would listen to him. And he could tell them the car was unlocked."
"That's splitting a hair," Matt thought out loud. "That wouldn't wash with either Wohl or Pekach. And I suppose you know that if you'd found ten thousand dollars' worth of cocaine in his glove compartment, it would be inadmissible evidence."
"Hey, I was a Narc when you were Mr. Joe College Payne," Jesus said. "I know what's admissible and what isn't."
"Hay-zus, you don't have a thing on this guy," Matt said.
"He wants to follow him, andget something on him," Charley said.
"You mean, he wantsus to surveil this guy, right?"
"I told you he'd tell us to go fuck ourselves," Martinez said.
"He can't do it himself, this Dago knows him."
"We're wasting our time. Let's get out of here," Martinez said.
"Hay-zus is usually right, when he smells something," McFadden went on.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Martinez repeated.
"What do you expect to find, Martinez, if we start to follow this guy around?" Matt asked.
"Association with known criminals," Martinez said. "That would give me enough to go to Wohl or Internal Affairs."
He keeps bringing up Wohl. Why? He doesn't work for Wohl anymore. But I do. That's what this is all about. He figures I could go to Wohl.
"For the sake of argument, Hay-zus," Matt said. "Let's suppose we follow this guy, and either he spots us before we catch him with some Mob type, or that you're wrong. He'd really be pissed. And we would have some explaining to do."
"In other words, no, right?"
"I didn't say that," Matt said. "I said what if."
"Then I would take my lumps."
"Weall would takeour lumps," Matt said.
"This guy is dirty," Martinez said. "We're cops."
Matt exhaled audibly.
"What have you got in mind?"
"You don't look like a cop," Martinez said. "You drive a Porsche. You could get into this place in the Poconos."
"How would we know when he was going to be there? And if we did, what am I supposed to do, tell Wohl I want the day off to take a ride to the Poconos?"
"I don't think he'd be going up there in the daytime," Martinez said. "Except over the weekend. He's got Friday-Saturday off. With a little bit of luck, he'd go up there then."
"And what if he just came across this book of matches someplace? Picked it up in a bar or something? You don'tknow that he's ever even been in this place." Matt picked up the matchbook. "Oaks and Pines Resort Lodge."
"Then I'll think of something else," Martinez said.
"Okay, Hay-zus," Matt said. "Let me know what you want me to do, and when you want me to do it."
"See, Hay-zus," McFadden said. "I told you."
"But don't let your Latin-American temper get out of joint if I can't jump when you call. I may be doing a lot of overtime."
"Overtime, you?" McFadden asked.
That was an honest question, Matt decided, not a challenge.
"Special Operations has been given Dignitary Protection. The Vice President's coming to Philly. There's a looney tune out there that wants to blow him up."
"No shit?" McFadden asked.
"Yeah, and the Secret Service thinks this guy is for real."
"What's that got to do with you?"
"Malone is in charge. For the time being, I'm working for Malone."
"We'll just have to see what happens," Martinez said. "If you're working, you're working."
When Joe Fierello drove his Mercedes-Benz onto the lot of Fierello Fine Cars at quarter to nine in the morning, he found Vito Lanza waiting for him.
"Don't tell me," Joe said as he got out of his car, "the transmission fell out."
"Not yet," Vito said. "I wanted to take care of my markers."
"Tony tell you I called?" Joe asked, but before Vito could answer, he went on, "Come on in the office. I'm not worth a shit in the morning until I have my coffee."
Fierello's secretary smiled at them as they walked past.
"Darlene, get us some coffee, will you?" Joe said, and as he walked behind his desk, he waved Vito into a chair in front of his desk. "Take a load off. You take anything in your coffee?"
Vito shook his head, no.
"Black both times, darling," Joe called out.
Darlene delivered the coffee and then left, closing the door behind her.
"Nice," Vito said.
"My wife's sister's girl," Joe said. "Anice girl."
"That's what I meant," Vito said.
Joe Fierello smiled at Vito. Vito did not like the smile.
"Like Tony," he said.
"Darlene doesn't go off overnight to the Poconos," Joe said. "You understand?"
"Absolutely."
"Don't misunderstand me, Tony's a nice girl. She's over twenty-one and she can do what she likes.
"I'm sorry there was that confusion about the markers," Joe said.
"They offered me the markers," Vito said. "I didn't ask for them."
"You went up there as my guest; they're holding me responsible for the markers. You're a nice fellow, Vito, but I don't like you six big ones worth. How soon can you make them good?"
"Right now, Joe. That's what I came here for."
He reached in his pocket and took out the envelope from the Flamingo.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"I'm making good my markers," Vito said, now very confused.
"You don't understand," Joe said. "I'm a businessman. You don't make your markers good with me."