A Bullet For Carlos

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Missing Goods

Chapter 3

Missing Goods

Three shots hit the dumpster, ringing loud and threatening. I buried my head in my arms, set the phone beside Sean, and did something I hadn’t done in years—I prayed.

God, I don’t know if you listen to people like me. You probably think I got a lot of nerve asking you to rescue me when I abandoned you so long ago. But I’m not asking for me, God, so let’s make a deal. You get me out of this jam and you have my word that I will get these motherfu—sorry. I’ll get these guys that murdered Sean and Jerry. I’ll save you the trouble of intervening, if you still do that stuff.

A new spurt of gunfire pounded the alley, peppering the walls. Brick pieces flew like shrapnel. I ducked, used my arms to cover my head, then poked out from behind the dumpster and fired a few more rounds. I couldn’t see the dealers, but if they knew I still had ammo they’d be more careful. Hell, maybe some concerned citizen would call the cops. Fat chance of that.

There was a rustling of debris near the entrance to the alley. I lay down, head resting in some kind of sticky g**k on the street. The stench of urine clogged my nose, almost gagging me. I inched forward, each movement another stab in my leg. I crawled just enough to see past the edge of the dumpster. Two of the drug dealers were coming in. Shadows were all I could see, but that would be enough if I let them get closer. I watched for a few seconds, judged how fast they advanced, then pulled back. As I moved into a crouch I grasped the gun with both hands and counted down. Almost.

Five seconds later I stood, head above the dumpster, and fired. I didn’t stop until I emptied the clip. Both of the dealers went down. Panting, I dropped to my knees, using my arm to apply pressure to the leg while I punched another clip into the gun. I moved to the edge of the dumpster, stayed near the ground and peeked out.

Shots sprayed the dumpster and the walls of the alley. I jumped back, barely avoiding a few ricochets. They had automatics. Jesus Christ, who are these people? I said another prayer. Maybe enough prayers would raise me a level so I could suffer in Purgatory.

If something happens to me, God, please take care of Hotshot.

During a brief lapse in gunfire, I heard tires squealing on the street. It couldn’t be Uncle Dominic already, unless he beamed over from the Bronx.

Two Caddies raced down the street toward the alley. A Lexus came from the opposite direction. Halfway down the block they stopped, doors flying open. Four men got out of each of the Caddies, guns blazing. Three drug dealers went down with the first assault. The two that remained ran in the other direction but the three guys from the Lexus emptied their guns on them.

The first guy out of the lead Caddy checked the scene then ran to the alley. “Connie, you okay?” A short pause, then he called again. “Connie, it’s okay, baby. Dominic sent us.”

My heart pounded, and I had to catch my breath. Could it really be him? I poked my head out, leaning against the dumpster for support. Suspicion burnt a hole in my gut, but my leg was bleeding and I needed help. “How did you get here so fast?”

“Dominic called me. We were only a few minutes away, at the club. Don’t worry. Get in the car, and I’ll take you to him.”

I stepped forward, the gun pointed at him. “Who are you?”

The big man standing in the alley laughed a deep belly laugh, the kind from someone who laughed loud and often. “You might not recognize me, but I know you. I was at your Christening, and your First Communion. I’m Manny Rosso.”

I limped toward him, a grimace with each step, and my hand still gripping the gun. I remembered Manny, a big man with a contagious laugh and a happy face. “Manny? Is it really you?”

Manny rushed to my side, threw big thick arms around me.

“Andre’ tutto bene, bambina. Manny’s here now.” He rubbed my back as he whispered in English. “Everything will be all right.”

My leg gave out and I slumped. Manny caught me.

“Jesus Christ, you’re bleeding.” He scooped me up in his arms. “We gotta get you to the hospital.”

“I need to stay until they get here. My partners…”

“You got more people back there?”

I shook my head. “No. They’re…God, Manny, they’re dead. Both of them. I need to stay until help gets here.”

“This is Brooklyn, baby; they might never come.”

As we exited the alley, me in Manny’s arms, one of his men approached carrying a briefcase and wearing a strange look on his face.

“Got a truckload of money in here.”

“Put it in the car with me,” Manny said. “We—”

I tried to get down. “Manny—”

“Don’t worry, Connie. It’s all yours. We’re taking it with us.”

“Wait, Manny. We’ve got to get the drugs. And somebody’s got to stay with Sean and Jerry.”

Manny looked at me with his eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing you can do for your partners. As to the other, what drugs you talking about?”

“This was a buy. There should be drugs.”

“We’ll get them,” Manny said. “What cars did they drive?”

I pointed out the old Buick and the SUV. “Not the maroon one, the gray.”

“Ronnie, check those cars. Give it all to Connie.”

“Hey, boss…” Ronnie looked as if someone had slapped him.

“Ronnie!”

Ronnie looked at me, then Manny. “You know she’s the one who busted Little Pete last year. Johnny Hats, too.”

Manny looked at me. “Shame on you, Concetta,” he said, but then laughed. “It’s all in the game, huh.” He smiled, letting me know everything was okay, then loaded me into the back seat of the Caddy.

I was dizzy and my leg hurt like hell, but I was safe. Thanks, God. Even as I thought that, I wondered if Manny would expect special treatment for this.

Ronnie came up to us a moment later. “Nothing. Checked all of it. Trunk, underneath, everywhere.”

“It’s got to be here,” I said, and turned to Manny. “The drugs are somewhere. They have to be.”

“Don’t worry. They’ll find it,” Manny said, then, “Ronnie, call the cops and report this for Connie.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Manny placed the money on the seat next to me, then got in the car and tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Let’s go. Hospital’s only a couple of minutes from here.”

I felt numb, but at the same time, ecstatic to be alive. “I don’t know how to thank you, Manny. People are gonna talk. The cops will—”

Two thick fingers pinched my cheek. “Don’t worry about me. And trust me, nobody in this neighborhood is saying anything to the cops.” He smiled again. “Stay alive until I get you to the hospital; otherwise, Dominic will kill me.”

I rubbed my face where he pinched me, then the bridge of my nose, tracing over the hump that had been there since I was a teenager. The hump that had embarrassed me all through high school. “Maybe I’ll get my nose fixed while I’m in the hospital.”

Manny’s big fat hand grabbed the side of my face and turned my head toward him, then at a profile. “Don’t do it. It looks great. That little bump adds flavor to your face…you know, sort of like oregano on a sandwich.”

My partners were dead, my leg hurt like hell, and I was a cop in the backseat of a car with the head of one of the five families. Despite that, I almost laughed. Who else but Manny Rosso would compare a bump in my nose to oregano. But as I laughed, I also worried. What went wrong? And where are the drugs? They have to be there, so where are they?