I stood, making sure to tilt my Bogart just the way I liked it. “I’ll make sure to stay in touch.”
“You’ll do better than that.” Flacco jerked a thumb behind him. “Benny here will be your partner. You’ll work the case with him, and he’ll keep me informed.”
Ben the Bear’s face split in a wide grin. “I appreciate this honor, Zio. I’m all over this, I swear.”
No-Nose Nate rubbed a finger alongside his metallic prosthetic. “You sure you don’t want someone else, Moe? The kid hasn’t had a lotta experience with these kind of gigs.” He ignored Benny’s sullen glare.
“Benny won’t let us down.” Flacco gave his nephew a meaningful glance. “Will you, Benny?”
Benny shook his massive head. “No sir. I’ll do whatever it takes to help Mr. Trubble out.”
I didn’t say anything, but inside I winced big time. Flacco had just handicapped me with an obvious rookie and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. You didn’t just refuse the Don of New Haven. Not if you wanted to keep all your parts inside of your body.
A gleaming floater slid up outside the window via the transparent lift from the garage. It was an onyx dream of sleek curves and vintage design. The chrome gleamed, reflecting the winking city lights, while the interior was cushioned red leather. Although the floater was equipped with the standard propulsion kit to fly across the city, the shell was a throwback — Bentley Mark VI Cabriolet, if memory served me right. Which it always does. I remember everything except my past, and when you have a talent like that you take full advantage by stuffing it with trivial nonsense like antique cars and weapons from the pre-Cataclysm age. What else is a photographic memory good for?
“Benny will take you where you want to go,” Flacco said. “Consider him your personal soldati. He’ll watch your back just as he would mine.”
The rest of the crew had smirks on their faces. Flacco didn’t mention that Benny would spy and report on my every move as well, but I guess he figured it was too obvious to say out loud. I just nodded politely, because I was at the point where I’d do anything to get out of Moe Flacco’s immaculate office and back into the smoggy air of New Haven.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Flacco.”
The office window slid open, allowing us access to the lift. I strode to the shotgun side, which felt strange because I was used to being behind the wheel. But control had been steadily yanked from my grasp ever since I laid eyes on Scarlett in that nightclub.
Ben the Bear gave me a fierce grin when he slumped in the driver’s seat. “This is gonna be something, Mr. Trubble. I can’t wait to get started.”
“Start by getting us outta Dodge, kid. We got a lot of work to do.”
Benny pressed the DIVE button on the steering wheel. The glass floor beneath the floater hissed as it slid open, exhaling vapor from the pressurized controls. We dropped into the pouring rain and winking lights, joining the air traffic toward the beast of steel and concrete that lurked beneath us.
Chapter 6: Falling Hard
Air traffic was thick as usual. We zipped past the interconnected islands of the Uppers where the wealthy crust lived their self-important lives high above the less advantaged who had to scrounge around underneath. The lights were brightest at that level — nonstop advertisements and holographic projections in flashing electric hues. Lanes of computer-directed traffic whizzed all around — gleaming floaters in varied styles from classic to the more ultramodern versions that looked like metallic insects. Zeppelins claimed the highest levels, drifting above everything like metallic whales.
“Where do ya wanna go first, Mr. Trubble?” Ben the Bear was a lot more cordial when he was away from the family. Although he sat behind the wheel, he didn’t do any actual driving. Transit Control wasn’t big on manual operation in the skylanes, so their computers seized control of all flying vehicles to avoid accidents and hasty getaways. Benny had the crate in Touring Mode, which kept us on the scenic route around the city.
On second examination, Benny was younger than I took him for. His massive size put a few years on his meaty face, but he was a young cat, barely out of his teens. I understood his excitement when he got the assignment. He probably had never gotten a mission on his own before and was practically giddy with the prospect of sinking his teeth into the case.
“Home, Ace. It’s been a long day.”
Benny’s enthusiasm wilted. “Home? Fuggetaboutit. I thought we were gonna jump on this gig. My uncle’s not gonna like—”
I shot the lug a narrow-eye glance. “Moe ain’t my Pops, kid. And I’m not one of his soldatis, either. I’m a freelance operator, emphasis on free. Moe put me on a case I was already on in the first place, so don’t give me no lip about what your Godfather does or don’t want. You work for me now, don’t forget that. So when I tell you to head home, you head home. Pipe that?”
He slumped in his seat. “He’s my uncle.”
“Say what?”
“Moe’s my uncle, not my godfather.”
“I know that, Ace. But I was using it as a title. You know, like the Don. The Main Mug. The Big Boss. You know, the Capo di Capi. You ever see any of the old movies?”
Benny shrugged his massive shoulders. “Not really. I just call him Uncle.”
I took a glance at him. He seemed pretty out of sorts for the lack of action. In fact, he looked downright sulky. It was almost hilarious to observe.
“Hey kid, don’t go nance on me. I’m beat, and I gotta think things over. Part of investigation is mulling over the details. We’ll kick ass and take names tomorrow.”
Benny brightened up a little. “You think so?”
“It’s practically a guarantee in my line of work, Ace.”
A broad grin split his face. “Ok, Mr. Trubble. So where is your crib located?”
“The Luzzatti.”
His fingers paused over the positioning system. “That’s in the Flats, ain’t it?”
I grinned. “Aw, what’s the matter? Afraid of a little action in the less swanky part of town? Can’t live your whole life in the Heights, you know. I thought you were ready to get your mitts dirty, kid.”
“I ain’t scared of nothing.’” He quickly punched in the locale into the console. The floater dropped, lowering into the lanes headed toward the darker part of the city. “Just didn’t know, is all.”
I tilted my Bogart over my eyes. “Of course you didn’t. Do me a favor, will ya? Wake me when we get there. Been a long day.” Lulled by the buoyant movement of the floater, I drifted toward naptime.
“Uh, Mr. Trubble?”
I shifted irritably. “Whaddya want, Ace?”
“You might wanna check the heads-up display. Like pronto.”
When I blinked my eyes open I immediately knew things were about to go downhill. The screen that opened across the interior of the windshield revealed a silhouetted figure whose features were obscured by a wide-brimmed hat and a flogger with the collar turned up.