Parallax by Merz Jon F

Author:Merz, Jon F. [Merz, Jon F.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2009-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

There weren't many places Frank could go. Nor were there many people he could speak with about what had just happened. Part of him wanted to ask Gia what she thought of the entire situation. But a bigger part of him didn't want to hear her superior attitude come into play.

On a whim he stopped his truck by a pay phone near Hereford Street and dialed a number. The voice on the other end of the phone sounded as gravelly as the day Frank had first heard it.

"I need to see you."

The voice paused. "If this is who I think, you ain't the flavor of the fucking month right now sunshine. Seeing you ain't exactly a prescription for long living."

"I'd consider it a personal favor."

"Figured you would." Another pause. "You know Cappy's by the Prudential?"

"I'm close by there right now."

"Of course you are. How else could you guarantee your own safety? Anyway, you go in there head for the back. I'm in a booth."

"See you soon."

Frank hung up and glanced around. Being out in the open wasn't a good idea, either. Not after the shootout at the ice cream parlor. But he had to know who was on his trail. That meant speaking with Bukowski.

Moe had stressed the importance of having eyes and ears on the ground - people he could rely on for information provided the price was right. The problem with paying informants was you were never sure of where their loyalties lay. So Moe had also stressed the importance of being able to call in personal favors.

Among the other things he'd bequeathed to Frank in his will, Moe had also left him a couple of contacts he could call in case of extreme emergency. These were people who owed Moe and Moe had passed their markers on to Frank. Frank could use them as he saw fit.

Guess this qualifies as an emergency, he thought as he parked the Explorer with the valet at the Sheraton Hotel on Dalton Street, forty steps away from Cappy's. He took another glance around him. Whoever was on his tail, they were bound to have their own eyes looking for him.

The less time out on the street, the better.

He hustled across Dalton Street, walked past the cinema on his left and then steered into Cappy's - a hideaway joint that overlooked the Massachusetts Turnpike streaming along beneath its darkened windows.

Bukowski held court in the rear of the bar, picking out the best college and pro games to place money on. He was a professional advisor to some of the biggest names in the organized crime world. But he owed allegiance to no one. The bosses liked it that way. Bukowski was a stand-alone operator who never got involved in the politics of things. If you needed a hot tip, though, he was the guy you went to see.

Moe had also told Frank that Bukowski was the most informed guy on the crime scene. He knew everyone. He knew what was going on. If the crime world had a pulse, Bukowski's finger was on it.

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