I didn’t bother looking back.
James and Henry loitered outside, smoking in the rain. Henry nodded. “It’s done?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. We’ll take care of the rest.” They dug into the trunk of their ride and emerged with cleavers and hacksaws before entering the warehouse with docile faces. Just another day on the job for them.
I kept walking.
Benny and Natasha waited outside where Maxine was parked in the cracked and broken empty lot. Benny held a protective umbrella over Natasha’s head to shield her from the light drizzle. The hazy backdrop of massive city structures towered in the distance behind them. Sea gulls screeched and cackled above as they glided over the nearby water on artificial winds. I wondered if they were real or just automatons designed after the genuine article. In the end I guess it didn’t matter. Synthetics become the new reality when you don’t have a choice in the matter.
I jerked my chin at Benny. “Still hanging out?”
He nodded. “My uncle said he was gonna work some things out on his end. I told him I’d stick it out with you and see this thing through.”
“Bet Flacco liked that.”
“He said… ” Benny’s face reddened. “He said he was proud of me.”
I clapped him on his meaty neck. “We’ll make a Mafioso out of you yet, kid. Let’s go. Gotta check on Flask and Angel, then follow up on some leads.”
Natasha laid a hand on the crook of my arm. “What happened to that man in there, Mick?”
“Don’t waste your pity on a skel like that, Natasha. He sold out lives for a living. He’s just as responsible for Sophia and Desiree as the killer is, and he had it coming.”
Her grip tightened. “Did you kill him?”
I looked at her. “I didn’t kill him, Natasha. Hope that makes you sleep better at night.”
“Then what happened?”
I stared at the murky silhouette of the city. “He took the easy way out.”
Chapter 15: Letting Go
Lambrou’s Diner was a roadside throwback, designed after better times when tradition and culture meant something. Donny Lambrou had heard stories from his folks about their heritage and the lifestyle of Greek-American diner ownership. Those days had long since been buried in the rubble of the Cataclysm, but Donny enjoyed the stories and decided to pay them tribute in the form of his own 24-hour diner on the edge of Downtown. It was styled in traditional New York fashion, complete with neon lights on the outside and a cozy, relaxed atmosphere inside. The babble of blended conversations mixed with clattering dishes and silverware was a type of music in its own way. Lambrou’s was always crowded, but you didn’t need a reservation if you knew people.
I knew people.
Natasha and I sat in a strategic corner booth where I could keep an eye on the exits in case things got hairy. Benny nursed a drink at the bar, throwing enough shifty glances to make the nearby patrons nervous. The kid wasn’t exactly made for blending in, but that was ok. He had a reason for being a bit on the jumpy side. We were in the exact diner where Flask and Angel had been targeted less than an hour earlier. I figured Natalie wouldn’t have expected me to circle back to the scene, which was why I was there.
The fact that the joint wasn't flooded with coppers and distressed patrons told me no fireworks had gone off. Which meant Flask and Angel must’ve made a clean sneak and gotten out in time. That didn’t mean Angel wasn’t still a target. I just hoped Flask had an airtight lay where he could stash Angel until things blew over.
“Better get a chew while you can, sweetheart. Might not get a chance later.”
Natasha traced a finger around the rim of her glass of lemon water. “I’m just not hungry, Mick. I don’t see how you can eat at a time like this.”
“Gotta keep my strength up.” I dug into my moussaka. The layers of tender lamb mince, eggplant slices and savory custard topping really hit the spot. I gestured with my fork. “You should try the pastitsio. It’s to die for.” I took a frothy sip of ice-cold brew.
Natasha’s eyes met mine. It was a different gaze than I was used to. More weighing, more critical than I had seen before. I didn’t like the feeling that every new revelation drove us further apart.
“When does it end?”
I sighed and set my beer down. “It won’t be long, Natasha. Flask should be here any minute. We’ll recoup and move on to the next lead.”
“And then what?”
I felt a stab of irritation at her insistent tone. I smothered it with another forkful of moussaka. “Then we work at taking out Natalie’s crew. I got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“I meant after that. Say you manage to come out of this in one piece. What then?”
The fork paused halfway to my mouth. “Dunno. I don’t tend to think that far ahead. All I know is now. What’s happening in the moment. Like this moussaka.” I closed my eyes as I chewed. “Yum.”
Natasha placed her chin on her fist. “How can you live like this, Mick? Doesn’t it get old after a while?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been in and out of one jam after another ever since I was fished out of the river. Only time I got a few moments to kick back was—” I paused and locked gazes with her. “You know — with your folks.”
Her eyes drifted to the tabletop. “Those were the days, right?”
“They were.”
“All that’s over now. I finally can face it. I’m coping with it. It’s just all so… strange.”
“How’s that?”
She toyed with her napkin, looking almost shy. “I don’t know anyone but you, Mick. My parents didn’t trust many people. Father laughed and spoke to all his tenants, but you were the only man he invited to the table. My mother had a few friends, ladies she mostly spoke to on the phone. I had no friends my own age growing up. So when my parents were killed… there was only you.”
“Yeah. A down-and-out amnesiac with a knack for shooting trouble. Lucky you.”
Her smile brightened the melancholy for a brief moment. “You say that as a joke, but you’re right. I was lucky. Lucky to have someone like you watch over me. You took care of me when I had nothing and I’ll always love you for that.”
“Aw, I’m getting misty-eyed over here. You don’t owe me anything, Natasha. You know that.”
“It’s just I’ve had time to think things over. Clear my head. I want to do things, Mick. I want to be somebody.” Her voice turned wistful, and for a moment she was the innocent dreamer I knew in the old days. “I want to make friends. Get out and see some things.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What, you haven’t seen enough already?”
She laughed and swatted my hand. “You know what I mean. Places without any dead bodies or bullets flying around.”
“Yeah, I know. I think you should. Get out, I mean. Socialize, see some finer scenery. What’s in your way?”
I realized the truth as soon as the words came out. Her averted gaze told me the whole story. I slowly nodded.
“I get the picture. Really, I do. It’s me, isn’t it?”
Her eyes glistened. “Look, Mick—”
“It’s ok. Honest, it is. I haven’t been thinking things through. Haven’t been looking from your perspective.”
“I didn’t know. Or maybe I did and I didn’t want to think about it. People talk about you, Mick. The tenants at the Luzzatti talk about what you did for me and my folks. How you took on the Mob all by yourself. They like you. But at the same time they’re afraid of you, too. I didn’t understand why at first.” She paused to dab the corner of her eye with the handkerchief. “I do now.”