. . . Mrs. Wilkins looked down at her patient. She knew all too well of his reputation but had become familiar with him as just another old man, failing from age, bad lungs, and weak heart muscles, bound to his wheelchair, lest a few dozen steps sap the day’s strength from him. But now, as she listened to his voice and looked past his tired, watery eyes she sensed the capacities of a younger and stronger man. A man of serious intent. A man capable of the things she had heard.
“I understand, but I still think you should rest.”
Fabrizio Benedetto shook his head at her persistence. “I have to go to the park. I need you to take me there. Will that make you afraid?”
“Should I be?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you?”
“A little.”
“Then why are you going.”
“Because I have to. I have no choice. But my men will be watching and they’ll protect us, if they have to.”
“I’m just a fat old lady. Why would anyone want to hurt me?”
Benedetto’s eyes twinkled. “I could give them plenty of reasons.”
Mrs. Wilkins laughed.
Benedetto became serious again. “The newspapers and TV will be waiting for me downstairs. That will help to make it safer. But they’ll be asking questions and taking my picture and you’ll be on the front page with me. Does that bother you?”
Mrs. Wilkins shrugged. “My grandchildren will probably think it’s cool or whatever they say now. But why are you going out? Why are you letting them do this?”
“I need to show my enemies and my friends that I am not afraid, that I will not hide, that I am still strong. I need to carry on, like I am expected to.” Looking away. “And I need to meet someone in the elevator, to talk in private, when we come back.”
“Okay, Mr. Benedetto, let’s go for a walk. I’ll get a blanket for your lap.”
“No. Just my brown jacket, please. We’ll leave the wheelchair in the lobby.”
. . . All the while, Vinny watched from across the room. Sweating, eyes bulging, breathing quickly through his nose, he tried not to look at Joey Freeze and his brains oozing onto the floor. But his chair had been dragged to within three feet of the big dead man. It was as if Lincoln had known they had grown up together. Vinny closed his eyes and shook his head. He would have to find a good mortician. Old Mrs. Malacci wouldn’t hold up seeing her little Joey with two big holes in his head. Poor Joey Malacci. Big and tough, but he wouldn’t hurt a flea, unless Vinny told him to. Joey Freeze they called him. He always liked it freezing fuckin’ cold. He’d drive around with the air on all winter. One time Vinny had seen him sweating at a Giants game in December. Well, he wouldn’t sweat no more. Then he looked over at Lincoln and Henderson. These motherfuckers will die for this, he promised himself.
Lincoln sat at the table with the wallets and spread them out in the order of their owners lined up at the bar. “Let’s see who are new friends are,” he said.
Lincoln removed a driver’s license or credit card from each wallet and began to read. “We have, Mr. Gerald Ferrini, Mr. Anthony Musto, Mr. Francis Migliaccio, Mr. Anthony Virelli, Mr. Anthony Canella, and Mr. Salvatore Venezio. Hmmm, whadaya know, six guys and three of ‘em named Anthony?”
Lincoln looked over his shoulder at Vinny and, raising his eyebrows, said. “Vinny, this is a very toni place you have here.”
Lincoln belly laughed again, slapping the table causing the wallets and ID’s to jump. Then he abruptly stopped, glanced up at Henderson and shrugged. “I thought that was goddam funny. I guess wiseguys don’t have much of a sense of humor.” Then to Vinny. “You goombahs outta lighten up. There’s more to life than spaghetti and meatballs, ya know.”
Vinny grunted from behind the duct tape. It was muffled, but Lincoln understood the two words: Fuck you!
“Vinny. Vinny.” Rising to his feet. “With language like that you can see why we had to tape your mouth shut. But don’t worry, your time to talk to me is almost here. In fact, we’re gonna play a little game.” Pacing between Vinny and the table. “I think you’ll like it. It’s called Ding Dong Dago. Ever hear of it?” Turning to the men at the bar. “You guys? No? That’s okay, I’ll teach you. It’s easy and loads of fun.” Pausing to glance thoughtfully up at the ceiling, he concluded, “Well, fun for me, anyway.”
Lincoln walked back to the table of wallets. “First, we mix up the ID’s like this. Then, I cover my eyes and . . . pick one at random.” Holding up a driver’s license. “And the first lucky player is . . . Mr. Anthony Virelli! Tony, come on down!” Nodding to Henderson.
Henderson was able to select Virelli by reading the body language and side glances of the men at the bar. He moved Virelli so he was standing in front of Vinny, with Joey Freeze on the floor between them.
“Okay, Vinny,” Lincoln began. “This is a game of knowledge. That’s right, I’m going to ask you questions that will test your knowledge of certain events. It’s an easy game because these events have not only occurred in the very recent past but they are also events that I know you have direct knowledge of. Any questions so far?”
Vinny didn’t have a clue where this was going, but when he saw the fear in Virelli’s eyes he thought that it was probably justified. He stared back at Lincoln with all the defiance he could muster.
Lincoln smiled. “No questions? No, of course not. You have duct tape on your mouth. So let’s begin . . .
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