Page 19

At the same time Stone taxied his jet toward the runway, Gennaro walked into M.

W.

Hatcher’s Auto Repair in Queens and looked around the garage.

“Help you?” a young guy in greasy overalls asked.

“Murray around?” Gennaro asked.

The guy nodded toward a door at the other end of the garage.

“He’s in back.”

As Gennaro picked his way around the cars that were being worked on, his phone buzzed with a text from Rosa.

Brady Carter just called and wants to know if there’s an update.

Didn’t say about what, so I guess you know?

“Son of a…” Gennaro muttered.

He’d actually forgotten about Carter.

He would pay him for his damn tip after Fratelli had paid Gennaro.

If he was in a generous mood, that was.

He paused long enough to punch out a reply and send it.

Tell him to chill.

I’ll let him know when I let him know

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, then went out the garage’s rear door into the fenced-in lot behind the building.

Dust-covered cars filled most of the space, some stripped down to their frames and some that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years.

A group of three men sat at an old picnic table under a sagging awning, shooting the breeze.

One of them noticed Gennaro and whispered something to the others.

The guy with his back to Gennaro looked over his shoulder, smiled, and lurched to his feet.

“Tricky Ricky!” he declared as he lumbered over.

“Hello, Murray.”

Murray Hatcher wrapped him in a hug and slapped him on the back.

Gennaro wasn’t a small man, but Murray—at six foot seven and built like a mountain—made him look tiny.

“Where you been hiding yourself?” Murray asked.

“Same place as always,” Gennaro said.

Murray’s whole chest rumbled as he laughed.

“And Rosa? How’s she doing?”

“You think she’d tell me?”

They both laughed this time.

Gennaro glanced at the other two men, then whispered, “You got someplace we can talk?”

“Sure. Let’s go to my office.”

Murray led him back into the building and up a set of stairs to the second floor.

“You need a coffee?” Murray asked as they walked down the hall.

“I’m sure there’s still some in the break room.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

They entered an office at the end of the hall, and Murray shut the door.

“Have a seat,” he said.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he noticed that the only chair, other than the one behind the desk, had a box on it filled with used auto parts.

“Ah, crap.” He grabbed the box and set it on the floor.

“Sorry about that.”

They both sat.

“I don’t want to waste your time, so I’m going to cut right to the chase,” Gennaro said.

“That’s what I’ve always liked about you. No BS.”

“I need to put the fear of God into someone, and I can’t think of anybody better to help me do that than you.”

“Is this a business thing or a personal thing?”

“Someone has something that belongs to me.”

“So personal.”

“Very.”

“And you need the old Murray touch to get it back.”

“If you’re available.”

Murray leaned back in his chair.

“That’ll depend on what and when.”

“The ‘what’ is hitting him in a way that will grab his full attention,” Gennaro said.

He laid out his plan in general terms.

“Seems straightforward enough,” Murray said.

“And the ‘when’?”

“That’s the tricky part. I want it to happen this weekend. Sometime tomorrow, preferably.”

“Why so fast?”

“I learned my target is leaving the country this morning and won’t be back for a few days. He’ll feel a hell of a lot more vulnerable if it happens when he’s not here.”

“Say I can work with your timeline,” Murray said.

“It won’t be cheap.”

“I’m not looking for cheap.” Gennaro set a thick envelope on the desk.

Murray picked it up and opened the flap.

“Twenty grand? That’s kind of light for what I do.”

“That’s twenty-five grand, and it’s a down payment. When I get back what I’m owed, I’ll give you another two hundred Gs.”

“Two hundred? This guy must have taken something pretty valuable.”

“You could say that.”

“And what if you don’t get back what you want?”

“I will.”

“But if you don’t?”

“Then I’ll pay you another seventy-five,” Gennaro said.

It was a lie, but one he didn’t think he’d have to worry about since he was sure he’d get Fratelli to pay up.

Murray thumbed through the money, then set the envelope down and stuck out his hand.

“You gotta deal.”