Payback, p.23
Payback, page 23
My mother stood in the lobby, staring daggers at me. I pushed the button, hit the top floor.
As we started to rise, I said, “Is Leo tangled up with them?”
“He thinks they’re great. He won’t listen to me. You’ve got to get him to disassociate, cut them off.”
My stomach lurched; I thought I might throw up. Leo was naïve, impressionable. He’d be so easy to manipulate.
My phone rang. It was Mom. I swiped the screen. “Get your ass down here immediately.”
“On my way,” I said. And I ended the call.
To Bill, I said, “I’ll talk to Leo. He’ll listen to me.”
He sighed, looking partially relieved. “Good. That’s good.”
As we rode down, I got an uneasy twinge when I observed him. He was on the edge.
“You sure you’re okay, Bill? Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah.” He met my eye. There were dark circles, magnified by the lenses of his glasses. He looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long while.
“We need to have a long talk.”
“About Leo?”
“Nope. About Ian Templeton.”
When Bill spoke that name, my breath hitched, and I had to stifle a gasp. Finally, he caught on. “Yes—please.”
“That Ponzi scheme you kept talking about? I think you’re right. I’m trying to convince Maya.”
I clutched his arm. “His crypto ICO is a scam, too. I’m gonna have evidence that will bust it wide open.”
We were back on the main floor. This time, when the doors opened, my mother was ready to pounce. She stepped into the elevator, grabbed my arm and pulled me out with her.
In a low growl, she said, “I’m parked in the garage on Centre Street, three blocks away. We need to carry Victor’s property together. Are you aware that we have over a million dollars in our possession?”
I had no idea. Didn’t stop to think how my mother could calculate that figure without counting it. How would she know what a million dollars in cash looked like? Maybe she’d seen it on TV.
I was dying to pick Bill’s brain about Templeton, but it would have to wait.
I said, “Bill, can we get together? Tonight?”
He sighed again, looking relieved. “Yeah. Want me to come by your place?”
“No!” Millie would flip out when she heard about Rod. We needed to respect that. I seized onto another meeting place. “Let’s meet at Craftsman.”
The Craftsman was my neighborhood watering hole and one of my favorite dives. I added, “You can take the One Train to 125th Street.”
“I know how to get there. What time?”
My mother was literally dragging me away. I said, “Eight o’clock, okay? That’s when the music starts. We can talk about anything, no one will hear.”
He gave me a thumbs-up. I waved as Mom pulled me toward the Centre Street exit with an iron grip on my arm.
Chapter 46
As I climbed out of the subway at Broadway and 125th and headed home, my physical load was much lighter than it had been at the courthouse. My mother had taken custody of the cash. I had helped her dump it in the trunk of her Lexus, and Victor’s haul was headed to New Jersey. I was glad to wash my hands of it.
My mental burden, however, was weighing me down. As I rode the subway uptown, I had called Leo once and texted twice, but he didn’t answer. When I had looked for him on the location app, it didn’t locate him. Was it possible that he’d turned it off? That would be completely out of character.
I pulled up the local news and pored over the reports of the Rikers escape in the New York Post. The headline splashed across the web page read: “Daring Duo Escapes from Rikers.” Rod had a partner in the escape, a Russian mobster was also missing. That gave me something new to worry about as I recalled that Rod had been forced to share a cell with some Russian criminals. The Post ran their mug shots. According to the article, the photos had been sent to the cell phone of every officer in the NYPD. Rod’s mug shot was a good likeness. He wouldn’t be difficult to recognize.
When I turned onto Claremont and my apartment building came into view, I had a sinking feeling. I had to face Millie, who was sitting inside my studio awaiting good news. She’d been cheery before I left that morning, certain that my mother was going to work some magic on Rod’s behalf.
As I reached the front stoop to the building, I met Edie. She was struggling to get her shopping cart up the steps.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” I said.
She gave me a bright grin. “Thanks, Kate! Hey, you’re looking good today. You should wear more colors like that, it brightens you up. I don’t know why young people go around in black all the time, looks like they’ve just come from their grandpa’s funeral.”
As I followed her through the front door, I noticed a big smudge of dirt on the seat of her lavender capri pants. I could’ve alerted her to it, to illustrate the rationale behind my sartorial choices, but I kept my mouth shut.
Inside the lobby, I handed off the shopping cart. She pulled it behind her as we walked together to the elevator.
“Since the old lift is working today, I decided to make my grocery run. Besides, I was running low on cat food. Wet food and dry. You remember that nursery rhyme? About Old Mother Hubbard?”
I didn’t. My mom wasn’t the Mother Goose type of parent.
When the elevator door opened, we stepped inside, and I hit the button for the top floor. The car began its slow ascent. Edie kept up a running thread of chatter.
“I guess my sweetie has been coming by your place to visit. Pierre will make a cat lover of you, you’ll be adopting your own baby before long, I bet.”
I grimaced. “Probably not, Edie. I think it’s my roommate he likes. A friend is staying with me, she’s taken a shine to your cat.”
“Yeah, we met in the hall. Such a pretty girl. Not from around here, right?”
“No. God, no.”
The elevator ground to a stop on the third floor, and the door opened, rattling in its track. An old man stepped up, preparing to join us.
Edie pushed the close door button. “We’re going to six. You’ll have to wait.”
He protested as the door shut in his face, but the sound of his voice was drowned out by the elevator as we resumed our ascent.
Edie said, “We got a lot of action on our floor these days, don’t we?”
I looked down at her, not entirely certain what she meant. “Do we?”
“Yeah, all the coming and going at your place. You got that nice Mexican boyfriend. And your roommate, the big blond girl. Your brother always comes and goes. What’s his name?”
“Leo.”
“Yeah, that’s right: Leo. Such a nice boy. He’s a lawyer, too, right?”
“Not quite.” I didn’t volunteer additional information. Leo would pass the bar exam someday.
“He looks a lot like you. Always helps me with whatever I’m carrying. He took my laundry basket for me one week. A lot of boys his age aren’t so well behaved, not like it used to be. I remember when they’d jump up to offer their seat on the subway to a woman my age. Nobody does that anymore.”
Finally, we arrived on six. I held the door open as she struggled to pull her cart in the hallway.
When she stepped to put her key in her apartment door, she said, “I guess you got more company. I don’t see how you fit everybody in there. Must be like sardines in a can at your place.”
She pushed the door open. I saw the cat. He was perched on the back of her divan, with his eyes fixed on the door. At the sight of Edie, he made a loud yowling sound, like he was bitching about something.
I said, “No more company. I’m full up.”
Edie winked at me. “I bet you are. Your boyfriend’s gonna be jealous.”
She wasn’t making any sense. I moved on down the hall, figured the conversation was over. But her cat darted into the hallway. Edie stepped back into the hall and snatched him up. I couldn’t believe the old woman could move that fast.
She clutched the cat to her chest and dropped a kiss on the top of his head before she gazed at me over the frames of her eyeglasses. “Don’t know how you do it. You’re putting out catnip to get all those good-looking men hanging around your door.”
Before she returned to her apartment, she said in a loud whisper, “I saw that big Black man who showed up at your door this morning. Wearing nothing but his pants. Whew—I almost ran a fever, just looking at his build. He oughta be in the movies!”
Chapter 47
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d had fair warning.
But when I turned the key in the door to apartment 6E and stepped inside, it was still a shock to see Rod. He was stretched out in my dad’s recliner with one of my tattered bath towels wrapped around his waist.
“Kate!” Millie cried out from the kitchenette. She pushed a skillet off the burner and ran over, flinging her arms around my neck. “Can you believe it? He’s out!”
Rod and I exchanged an uneasy glance as Millie squeezed me in a tight embrace.
“Can’t believe it,” I said.
Millie released her hold on me and darted back into the kitchen. “He actually swam across the East River from Rikers to the Bronx!”
I said, “You’re kidding. That’s impossible, he did not.”
Rod said to Millie, “No, baby. Not that far.”
He met my eye. “They’d moved me to the Boat. The Vernon C. Bain Center.”
I was vaguely familiar with the Vernon C. Bain Center. It was a floating prison, a barge anchored off the southern shore of the Bronx. The eight-hundred-bed jail was intended to reduce overcrowding at Rikers.
Millie said from the kitchenette, “Why were you on a boat, Rod? That’s weird.”
I answered. “That’s what they call it, Millie. It’s another lockup, on a barge.” I sat on the sofa and focused on Rod. “I thought the Boat is supposed to be used for medium- and maximum-security prisoners. What the hell were you doing there?”
“Trying to stay alive,” he said.
Millie scraped scrambled eggs from the skillet onto a plate and carried them in to Rod. “Here, baby. There’s no bread, so I can’t make toast. I’ll run out and get you a bagel.”
I was astounded to see her head for the door, as if the time was ideal for a deli run. I jumped up and grabbed her before she could make her exit. “Millie. We’ve gotta talk about this.”
She searched my face. “Kate. You’re not excited. I thought you’d be glad to see that Rod’s okay. He’s here with us, safe, in one piece.”
I wanted to scream, but I held it together. “He’s not safe. Every cop in New York is looking for him. They’ve got his mug shot on their cell phones.”
Her expression was stubborn. “We’ll figure it out. We’re going to make it work. I just want you to be happy for us.”
I was too scared to be happy. In my mind’s eye, I could envision a SWAT battalion kicking my door in. And the likely next step involved a change of address for Millie and for me, from Claremont Street to Rosie’s.
The prospect made my knees weak. I dropped onto the sofa, watching Rod scarf down the eggs. When he met my eye, I had to ask.
“Why the hell did you do this? It’s crazy, insane, there’s no way you’ll avoid being apprehended. Jesus, Rod, we were in court today when I found out. My mom was about to get you released.”
He balanced the plate on the arm of the chair. “Nobody told me I was getting out. From what I could see, I was getting in deeper and deeper. When they stick you with the Russian mob, your life expectancy decreases dramatically.”
Millie picked up the empty plate and perched on the arm of the chair. “One of the Russians tried to kill him.”
Her voice held an accusatory note—like it was my fault. I ignored it.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I hurt him worse than he hurt me. We kinda bonded in the infirmary. Not like I trusted him. I couldn’t rely on anyone at Rikers, it was dog eat dog. But the Russian dude said we had a shot at getting out of there. His boss had a connection inside and knew how to pay off a guard, to give us a chance for a head start before they blew the whistle.”
“No one escapes from Rikers,” I repeated. It’s common knowledge.
Rod cracked a smile. “It’s all a matter of perspective, apparently. The dude said this lockup was a cream puff, compared to Russia’s ‘corrective colonies.’ He did time in Black Dolphin Prison. The way he described it, the prison sounded like that old Paul Newman movie. Hard labor. Nothing to eat but soup.”
I shrugged. I don’t watch old movies.
Millie picked up the plate. As she carried it to the kitchen, she said, “Come on, Kate, you know. Cool Hand Luke. ‘What we got here is a failure to communicate.’”
I was curious, despite my apprehensions. “So how did you break out?”
“When we got out of the infirmary, they sent me and Korobov to The Boat, the prison barge. Because we were badasses, they said they’d upped our security level.”
“I didn’t know that.” I felt a lump of shame lodge in my chest. I was Rod’s defense lawyer. I should’ve known, it was my job.
“Our cell was on the fifth floor. Korobov scored the rope; he got it from a guard. The cell windows aren’t supposed to open, but this Russian dude, he’s like Houdini. And the window’s small. I didn’t think we could get through it. Amazing what your body can do when you’re desperate.”
I was trying to get my head around it. “You climbed five stories down a rope?”
“Yeah. It was knotted, that made it easier to hang on. The climb was the easy part, honestly.”
“You’re kidding.” I was glued to the story, despite my reservations. Maybe I should check out the old Paul Newman movie. “What was the hard part?”
“That swim from the barge to the Bronx was no picnic. We scaled a fence and dove off the barge. The currents were brutal, sucked me under more than once. Not gonna lie, there was one point when I thought I was going to die.”
Millie ran to his chair, curled up in his lap, and buried her head in the space between his neck and shoulder. I could barely make out the words she mumbled.
“Don’t even say it, Rod. I can’t stand to think about it.”
I turned away from them to give them a moment of privacy. Staring into the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of a bundle on the tile floor that looked like gray sweatpants.
“Are these your sweats?”
“They are now, I guess,” Rod said.
Millie lifted her head. “Rod and the Russian mugged a couple of guys in the Bronx when they made it to shore.”
“I just took his pants. Korobov scored a phone, some cash. He said he had a car picking him up, offered me a ride. I got a bad vibe, figured it was time to part ways with him. I opted for the subway.”
“Nobody stopped you?”
Rod grinned. “Once I made it onto the 1 train, no one gave me a second look. I wasn’t the sketchiest dude in the crowd.”
Millie laughed. “After I give you your makeover, you’ll get looks. But they’ll be admiring looks. You’ll be so beautiful.”
She hopped off his lap and started digging through the closet that contained our combined wardrobe. After a minute, she pulled out a filmy tie-dyed caftan in shades of turquoise and green.
“I wore this when the conservatory performed a Puccini opera. Rod, the hem’s going to hit you at the knee. You need to get back in the tub, shave your legs.”
I was amazed to see him rise from the chair without argument. She handed him a razor as he stepped back into the bathroom.
When he shut the door behind him and I heard the water running, I pulled Millie over to the couch and sat her down.
“Millie, this is serious. You’ve got to know, it’s gonna end badly.”
“No it’s not. Rod’s back, it’s going to work out.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. “Every cop is looking for him. They have his picture. The cameras in the city have facial recognition.”
I searched her face, hoping to see that my message was registering. She looked away. I pressed on. “Our neighbor Edie saw Rod outside the apartment. She didn’t make the connection, but she’s bound to. He’s going to be all over the news. She’ll probably call the cops; they’re going to be banging on the door any minute.”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “No problem. We’re leaving.”
“But Millie, there’s going to be a manhunt. You can’t stay here, but there’s nowhere in the city you can go.”
I was about to say it. That he should turn himself in. I couldn’t see any other way out of the situation—not for Rod, or Millie. Or me.
“We’re leaving the city. We’ve already decided. It’s not safe here anymore.”
The bathroom door opened. Rod emerged, still holding the towel. Millie tossed the caftan at him. He caught it with his free hand.
“Try that on, baby.”
He disappeared back into the bathroom. Millie turned to me and said, “Rod thinks it’s all about the support group. They’re picking us off, one by one. We’re going to Jersey. If we can’t hitch a ride, we’ll get on a Greyhound.”
“A Greyhound to where?”
“Missouri. I’m going home.”
Rod stepped out of the bathroom, clad in the blue-green caftan. Despite myself, I snorted at the sight of him. He looked like an action figure scantily wrapped in a handkerchief.
Apparently, Rod had reservations about his garb. “Millie, I don’t know about this.”
“Oh, honey, you’re gonna be gorgeous. Just look at those cheekbones.” She picked up her makeup box and pushed him back to the chair. “I’ll paint your face, make a turban for your head, put my best shades on you—the big ones, like Jackie O wore. You’ll be positively elegant.”
He tugged at the caftan. “It’s too tight.”
She rubbed blush onto one cheek. “I’ll give it a snip here and there with the scissors. Sit still, you’re making me smear it.”
Frowning, I watched Millie work. There was no way she could make Rod look like a woman. But she was making him look significantly less like Rod.
