EIGHT

The supermarket was closed for the night, metal shutters pulled down over the windows. Only 8:00 P.M., but all the stores on the street were dark.

“Go around back,” Eddie said.

Terry pulled the El Camino into the rear lot. There was a loading dock here, an overflowing Dumpster, a pile of flattened cardboard boxes. Three cars: a silver Lexus, a green four-door Mercury, and a white van that said RICHFIELD CONTRACTING on the side.

“How the mighty have fallen,” Eddie said.

“This the place? You sure?”

“Yeah, this is it. Pull up alongside the Dumpster, kill the lights. Leave the engine running.”

There was a single door by the loading dock, a light in a metal cage above it.

“Should I come in?” Terry said. He’d taken the ring from his eyebrow.

“Hang here. I won’t be long. I’m not here to socialize.”

He took Casco’s gun from his pocket, put it in the glove box, shut it.

“I don’t come out in ten minutes,” he said, “take that and go in there and start blasting.”

Terry looked at him.

“It’s a joke,” Eddie said. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He got out of the El Camino. The air smelled of garbage. As he neared the door, a motion sensor floodlamp clicked on, bathing him in light. He frowned, tried the door with a gloved hand. It was unlocked.

Inside was a narrow cinder-block hall, tube lights hissing on the ceiling. The smell was in here, too, rotten fruit and vegetables. Voices came from an open door at the end of the hallway. As Eddie neared it, Nicky Conte stepped out.

“There he is, Eddie Santiago. A free man once again.”

“Hey, Nicky.”

“Good to see you. Come on in.”

Inside the cramped office were Tino and a man Eddie didn’t know. Tino got up.

“Eddie. So good to see you.”

He was skinnier than Eddie remembered, tendons showing in his neck, loose flaps of skin under his jaw. There were liver spots on the backs of his hands.

Eddie took the hug.

“You look well,” Tino said. “Strong.”

Eddie looked around. A metal desk piled with papers, five dusty closed-circuit TV screens on a wall shelf. One view showed the corridor he’d just come down, another the back lot, the El Camino. The other three looked out on the market’s empty aisles.

“Have a seat,” Tino said. He motioned to a folding chair. “You know Nick. You met Vincent Rio?”

“No.” Eddie nodded at the third man. He was big and blocky, his face pockmarked with acne scars. He wore heavy work boots.

Eddie took the chair. Nicky came in, leaned against the wall.

“How are you, my friend?” Tino said. He sat across from him. “How have you been?”

“Still breathing.”

“I hear you. Inside gets tougher as you get older, doesn’t it? Believe me, I know.”

Eddie shrugged.

“You get settled?” Tino said. “Get a place to stay?”

“Good enough for now.”

“Good. Nick, Vincent, can you give us a minute here?”

“Sure,” Nicky said. “I want to catch a butt anyway.”

“Enough with the smoking,” Tino said. “You’ll end up like me.”

“We’ll be out back,” Nicky said.

When they were gone, Tino nodded at the door. Eddie rocked back on his chair until he could reach it, pushed it shut with his fingertips.

“How’d those screws treat you inside?” Tino said.

“The usual.”

“With respect, though, right?”

“More or less.”

“I’m sorry about the confusion with the appeal, the money and all that. Jew lawyer got his signals crossed. By the time I knew about it, it was too late.”

“It’s past.”

“I know that you, and some of the others, get a little resentful about the plea thing.”

“I didn’t complain.”

“You never do. But you understand that’s the way it is, way it should be, right? Nobody with us pleads out, ever. If the government thinks it’s got a case, let them prove it in court. Why make it easy for them?”

“I understand.”

“That’s the way it always was, in the old days. The only way it works. Same rule for everyone. Same for me, same for you.”

“I didn’t say otherwise.”

“I know. I’m just making it clear, in case that was bothering you while you were in. Four years is four years.”

“Five,” Eddie said.

“Whatever. They want you thinking on it. That’s how they get to you.”

“No one got to me.”

“This last case they threw at me,” Tino said. “That bullshit extortion rap. They were talking twenty years.”

He touched his chest. “Here I am, sixty-six years old, only one lung. They figured I’d take the five they were offering, be happy about it. I said, ‘Fuck you, take me to trial.’ And they did and they lost, because it was a bullshit case to start with. That’s the way they work, they try to scare you.”

Eddie looked at the TV screen. Nicky and Rio were standing outside the back door, smoking cigarettes, looking at the El Camino.

“Who’s that you brought with you?” Tino said.

“My partner.”

“I know him?”

“Maybe. Terry Trudeau. We celled together in Rahway a few years back. He’s a good kid.”

“You trust him?”

“You don’t need to worry about him.”

“You got a place to stay. You need anything else?”

“Work.”

“We’ll do what we can, get you earning again,” Tino said. “A good man is always valuable. And you’re the best. That’s what I said to Nick. I told him, you can’t find a better man than Eddie the Saint. No matter what it is you need done.”

Eddie said nothing.

“Got some sad news the other day, though. You hear about our friend Casco?”

“What about him?”

“Someone jumped him in his office, cleaned out the safe. Killed him right there. Two in the back of the head.”

“Some junkie probably. They catch who did it?”

“No, not yet. To be honest, I doubt they will. You had some money with him, didn’t you?”

“A little. Not much. Guess it’s gone now.”

“He was a good man, a good friend. He handled a lot of things for me. Made me a lot of money. Whoever killed him did me a disservice.”

“You want me to look into it?”

Tino shook his head.

“No need. You just got home, I’m sure you’ve got other things on your mind. Besides, what good would it do anyway? He’s gone.”

“That’s right.”

On the screen, Nicky and Rio finished their cigarettes, tossed the butts away, came back inside.

“Do me a favor,” Tino said. “Open that door. That way they’ll know we’re finished.”

Eddie leaned back, twisted the knob, left the door ajar. Nicky and Rio came back in.

“You got a cell?” Tino said.

“No.”

Tino pointed to Nicky, who took a cell phone from his jacket pocket, held it out. Eddie took it.

“My number’s already in there,” Nicky said. “In case you need to reach me.”

Eddie looked at Tino.

“Nick gives me messages,” Tino said. “Calling him is like calling me.”

“It’s prepaid, untraceable,” Nicky said. “When it’s used up, just toss it. I’ll give you another.”

Eddie stood. “All right.” He put the phone in his coat pocket.

“It’s good to see you,” Tino said. “Good to have you back.” He rose, put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder for support, embraced him again.

“We’ll talk soon,” he said. “Look after yourself. Have some fun. You should be enjoying your freedom.”

“I am,” Eddie said.