“…Say ‘I got a windfall on the Flying Pussyfoot.’”
✦ ✦ ✦
“…Huh?”
For a second, his mind went completely blank.
Hey, wait, why is the train coming up now? Did I tell this guy about that? Actually, Shaft seems to know all sorts of stuff. Did he tell him? What windfall is he talking about? I wasn’t even on that train…
“The Flying Pussyfoot. Sounds like a ship name, but it’s not. It was the name of a transcontinental express train. If you can’t remember that, write it down.”
“Y-yeah.”
What, so he wasn’t saying that because he knew I was involved?
Come to think of it, I told Ladd that Placido Russo was after me, but I don’t think I gave him any details about that…or maybe I did… Dammit, too much has happened over the past few days; I’m already fuzzy on who I’ve told about me and how much.
The one thing he was sure of was that he’d just told Pamela all about how he was Sonia’s childhood friend. Czes and Rail, the kids who’d been there with them, would have heard all of that, too. Nader didn’t know how they figured into any of this.
It was possible that rumors about him would be all over New York by the following day. However, Hilton and Chané had already drawn a bead on him, so the spread of those rumors wouldn’t change his situation much.
Actually, I don’t really get this. They said that flock of birds was Hilton. Or Leeza. Whatever her real name is; it doesn’t matter. But they were…part of that woman?
Well, I mean, the women who kept finding me were all different ages and had different faces. At this point, if somebody told me the birds were in on this, too, I guess I’d have to believe them…
As he stood there in the middle of town, watching the traffic go by, he realized he wasn’t dreaming. The insane absurdity of the story Czes and Rail had told him was finally sinking in.
Compared with that, Ladd and Graham struck Nader as far more realistic. Dangerous, yes, but down to earth. Remembering what they could do, though, he decided to quit thinking about it.
“…And?”
“Well, if they hear those rumors, somebody’s bound to get interested in you. Once it’s over, maybe you’ll pick up a tail. They might even pick a fight with you.”
“That’s no good! Nobody gets anything out of that!”
“Oh yeah? If I step in and take the fella who picked a fight and slaughter him or drop-kick him or steamroll him, I’ll feel better. That’s good, right? If we pick up a wire or two while we’re at it, that’s good for my current bosses, the Gandors; plus a few thugs with mafia connections will disappear, which means New York benefits, too. Everybody wins. How ’bout that!” Ladd thumped him on the shoulder.
Timidly, Nader asked, “…What do I get out of it?”
“I’ll give you that cabbage. If you lose it, no skin off your nose; if you win, you win big. If you don’t touch the money you got from your employer, you’ll at least be able to say you broke even, get me? How ’bout that!” Ladd thumped his back even harder.
Nader was trying to think of a way to turn him down, but abruptly, his mind flipped the situation around.
Think about this.
I’m being watched, aren’t I? By several different outfits. The Division of Investigation’s watching me, too. If some big trouble really does start…would Manfred Beriam notice me?
The wish was like a walk across thin ice.
According to Pamela, Senator Beriam was watching the casino party like a hawk.
What chance did a petty thug like him have of attracting the senator’s attention? None… Unless something unforeseen happened, and he was right in the middle of it.
✦ ✦ ✦
“No… Wait, wait, wait.”
“Hmm? What’s up?”
Nader had accidentally spoken aloud, and Ladd got curious.
Nader gasped, eyes darting around, and then tried to cover for himself. “Oh, no… Just thinking out loud. Sorry, gimme a minute here.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, pal. I was thinking I’d go razz ol’ Who and say hello to the doc. I first met him on the Flying Pussyfoot, too…”
After making sure Ladd was talking to Graham and Shaft, as well as to him, Nader pretended to consider whether to take the job. He was actually thinking about what would come after that.
No, hold it, this can’t be right.
What am I thinking? What’s the point of getting the senator to notice me? I’ve got no cards to negotiate with. Up until yesterday, all I was concerned about was running away.
Intense bewilderment swept over him, but his thoughts didn’t switch back.
Nader Schasschule was a small-time crook, and no matter how he’d lectured himself, he’d never been able to take that “first step.”
He’d escaped death by the skin of his teeth, thanks to a few good people who’d chosen to save his life. He was aware he’d managed to avoid becoming totally evil, but that was as far as he could go.
So what if he wasn’t completely evil? What good did it do him? He’d thought about it over and over, but—as if being dragged into the vortex of this incident in New York and almost getting killed by Chané wasn’t enough—he’d kept on looking for a reason. In the end, all he’d been able to think of was running away.
He was aware of that, but even so, he was thinking something stupid right now. Why?
Without understanding his own mind, Nader’s head kept spinning.
I genuinely did sell the Lemures out. I don’t know if that was what saved the senator’s family. If he has the Division of Investigation check into me, though, won’t he find out about it? Won’t he learn that I sold out the Lemures?
If one of Beriam’s men made contact with him, what would he tell them?
How could he get his teeth into Beriam’s organization?
How could he pick up information that would be useful to them?
How could he get a bird’s-eye view of the workings of this screwy casino party?
How, how, how?
The same word came and went in Nader’s mind, again and again.
In the end, though, all of this was no more than a process.
He’d spotted it. Ultimately, he’d seen where that “how” was leading him—what he really wanted.
From the moment he’d met Pamela and realized that she was here in town—he’d probably already been trapped by his mistake.
How can I keep my promise to Sonia?
✦ ✦ ✦
How…can I meet her with my head held high?
✦ ✦ ✦
Even as he realized that, it hit him.
He knew why he wanted to meet a girl who wasn’t even his lover, just a friend from a more innocent time.
Oh, I get it.
I’m probably gonna die.
Yeah… They’ll kill me. Of course they will.
He felt as if a weight had settled onto his back, but that weight also helped keep his restless feet firmly on the ground.
Up until now, he’d denied his fate. He’d wanted to run away from it forever, but in the past half day, some unconscious part of him seemed to have accepted it.
He’d been targeted by Chané and by the Hilton sisters, who’d turned into a flock of birds. He’d painted another target on his back at the gambling den, let violent characters like Ladd and Graham mess with him, and ended up attending a casino party with all the surrounding mafia syndicates.
To make matters worse, as soon as he’d remembered his old promise, his childhood friend had turned up, about to shoot someone on orders from a politician who was doing something shady.
However, to Nader, that last part was the most important one.
Despite his best efforts, the thick mist of death around him wasn’t going to clear.
If he got out of New York, he might survive.
If he made tracks on his own, abandoning that promise—the one thing that made him himself—he’d probably manage to stay alive a little longer.
How many days? Three? Five?
Hilton and Chané…
Can I really get completely away from them, and from that monster Huey Laforet?