Counting to Infinity Read online

  Maybe Joey Russo had located the snake pit.

  Joey had promised to tell all by the weekend.

  Jake would have to wait.

  Diamond looked at the illuminated digits on the clock radio near the bed. Five in the morning. Jake wondered if Darlene would be awake yet in Chicago, if Sonny would be up and ready to go in New York. Diamond was losing track of all of the time zones. Jake reached for the painkillers on the bedside table and swallowed two. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

  Twenty-Three

  Wednesday Morning. Chicago.

  They were all up and moving at Eddie Hand’s house at day-break.

  At seven thirty, Darlene was walking into the lobby of Lansdale’s office building. She rode the elevator to the twelfth floor and used the key she had taken from Jill Ballard to enter the suite. She started a pot of coffee and made herself comfortable behind the receptionist’s desk.

  In the parking lot below the building, Tom and Eddie sat in the rental car. Romano had two sets of headphones for the listening device so that both he and Eddie could monitor calls to and from Lansdale’s phone. They parked close to Lansdale’s designated garage space, where they would spot him when he arrived and let Darlene know that Lansdale was on his way up. From what they had learned from Ballard, Lansdale usually arrived at the office by nine. But after the drama of the previous evening, it was difficult to predict how well Lansdale could stick to routine.

  Eddie ran across Wacker Drive for bagels and coffee, and they waited.

  Across town, Max Lansdale woke in a sweat.

  Lansdale couldn’t push the images from his mind.

  Down on his knees in the dirt, trembling, a gun aimed at the back of his head, being pinned down under Battle’s body, crawling like a terrified child, and every pathetic move being watched by Vito Ventura’s man. Granted, it took care of the problem of Ralph Battle, but it would do little to inspire Ventura’s confidence in Max’s ability to handle Vito’s money. And the money. Having the cash taken out of his hands as if he were a helpless fool was the hardest pill to swallow.

  All this, and having to deal with the fucking private investigator from San Francisco. Somehow, giving Diamond credit for all of his problems made Lansdale feel calmer.

  Jake Diamond would pay.

  Lansdale checked his table clock. Almost eight. He had a lot of cleaning up to do. He climbed out of bed to get ready for dirty work.

  Wednesday morning. New York.

  Sonny had time to kill.

  He had called Ventura’s office at nine sharp. He was told by Maggie the receptionist that Ventura was running late and would not be in until eleven. She asked that he call back after lunch to set up an appointment.

  Sonny told the woman that he would call after one. He had every intention of being at Ventura’s office in person at eleven.

  Sonny went to a restaurant on Lexington for breakfast. He ordered an omelet that cost him more than a steak dinner would cost in South San Francisco, where he’d grown up.

  After breakfast, Sonny checked out of his hotel room. He left his suitcase with the bell captain at the service desk, to be picked up before his ride to the airport. He carried the briefcase filled with money and walked north on Fifth Avenue.

  Sonny walked the aisles of FAO Schwarz, searching for something to bring home to his daughter. He had looked in the display windows of Tiffany Jewelers as he passed on his way up. He spotted one or two items that Connie would not mind owning, and he certainly had enough cash handy. He resisted the temptation and moved on to the toy store.

  With a gift for his daughter Carmella in one hand and the briefcase in the other, Sonny came into the office at precisely eleven. He identified himself and asked to see Mr. Ventura. Maggie asked Sonny to please take a seat as she buzzed Vito Ventura’s desk. Sonny remained standing.

  “Yes, Maggie?” Ventura answered.

  “It’s Mr. Badalamenti, sir,” she said.

  “Put the call through, Maggie.”

  “He’s out here in the reception area, Mr. Ventura.”

  “Well then,” Ventura said, “you had better send him in.”

  Ventura stood behind his desk when Sonny walked in.

  “I understand you are an associate of Tony Carlucci’s,” Ventura said.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” said Sonny, lifting his arm to indicate the briefcase. “Can I put it on your desk?”

  “Go ahead,” said Ventura, “and then please have a seat.”

  Sonny placed the briefcase on the desk and sat down. Ventura sat behind the desk. Ventura looked at the briefcase.

  “You can open it, Mr. Ventura, it’s safe,” said Sonny.

  Ventura looked up at Sonny and back down at the case. He turned it to face him, opened the latches, and lifted the top. He looked into the briefcase and then back to his guest.

  “What does this mean?” Ventura asked.

  “It means that you’re going to have to find a new washing machine,” said Sonny.

  “Is Max Lansdale dead?”

  “No, but he’s about to go down, and he’s going to fall hard,” said Sonny. “You’d be smart to stay out of the way.”

  “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Badalamenti,” Ventura said, “but Lansdale could cause me a world of grief if he can still use his tongue after he falls.”

  “Max Lansdale will cause you no trouble, Mr. Ventura,” said Sonny. “All you need to do is to forget that you ever knew the man.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m anxious to get home,” Sonny said, rising from his seat.

  “Who can I thank for this?” asked Ventura, tapping the briefcase. “I have a feeling that it has nothing to do with Carlucci.”

  “There may be a way you can show your gratitude, Mr. Ventura. I’ll let you know. Unless you hear from me again, just forgetting Lansdale is thanks enough,” Sonny said.

  And he walked out of Ventura’s office.

  Wednesday morning. Chicago.

  Eddie and Tom watched Max Lansdale leave his car and waited until he moved toward the elevators.

  Romano took out his cell phone and called Darlene.

  “Lansdale and Sons, can I help you?” Darlene answered.

  “He’s on his way up, Darlene,” Tom said. “Will you be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine, Tom,” Darlene said, looking up at the wall clock. “Listen. Call Vinnie at the hotel and make sure he wakes up. The kid will sleep all day if you let him. Tell Vinnie to call here in about an hour, no later than ten thirty.”

  “I will,” said Tom. “We’ll be right here, Darlene. All you need to do is speak into the phone and we’ll be able to hear you.”

  “Okay, Tom, I’ll talk to you later.”

  A few minutes later, Lansdale walked into the office suite. He looked at Darlene at the reception desk. For a moment he was confused; then he remembered Jill Ballard’s phone call.

  “Good morning, sir,” Darlene said. “Can I help you?”

  “That’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?” said Lansdale.

  “Mr. Lansdale, I’m sorry,” said Darlene. “I didn’t realize. I’m Amanda Bonner from the temp agency. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  Creep.

  “Bring me a cup of coffee,” said Lansdale. And he quickly disappeared into his private office.

  Darlene poured a cup from the coffeemaker. She remembered that Jill Ballard had said black, no sugar. She carried the cup to Lansdale’s door. She tapped on the door and Lansdale called her in.

  Max Lansdale sat at his desk, nervously drumming his fingers on the desktop. Darlene placed the coffee cup on the desk.

  “I want you to call the Allegro Hotel. Find out if Sonny Badalamenti has checked in yet,” said Lansdale. “If he has, try to get his room number.”

  “Yes, sir,” Darlene said, and she left the office.

  A few minutes later she tapped on his door again.

  “What the hell
is it?” he called.

  She opened the door and remained in the doorway.

  “Mr. Badalamenti is not at the Allegro Hotel, sir,” Darlene said. “They don’t seem to have any record of a reservation, and the hotel is booked full.”

  Lansdale stared up at her; she stood waiting for him to speak.

  “Mr. Lansdale?” she finally said.

  “That will be all,” Lansdale said. “And from now on use the office intercom. You don’t need to come beating on the door every time we get a phone call.”

  “Yes, sir,” Darlene said, closing the door behind her.

  She stood there for a moment. The finger drumming on Lansdale’s desktop got louder. She couldn’t resist smiling as she walked back to the receptionist’s chair.

  Fifteen minutes later Darlene took a call and buzzed Lansdale.

  “What is it?”

  “A Mr. Hamilton on the telephone, sir,” she said.

  “Put him through,” said Lansdale. “Carl.”

  “Max, how was Connecticut?”

  “Great, Carl. Always is.”

  “Just wanted to let you know that we’re ready for you on this end. Whenever you want to come by to make the exchange, just give me a call.”

  “There was a slight delay over on the other end, Carl, nothing very serious,” Lansdale said with forced nonchalance. “It may be a day or two.”

  “Whenever, Max, call me. I just wanted you to know we were ready on this end.”

  “Thanks, Carl,” said Lansdale.

  Lansdale disconnected and immediately buzzed Darlene.

  “Call the Allegro again,” he said when she picked up, “and keep calling until you hear that Badalamenti has arrived.”

  “Yes, sir,” Darlene said.

  Down in the garage, Eddie Hand turned to Tom Romano. “Our boy sounds a little edgy.”

  “Wait until he hears from Vinnie Strings,” Tom said. “I’d better call the kid and make sure he’s good to go.”

  Darlene took the call from Vinnie a few minutes before ten thirty. She buzzed Lansdale.

  “What?”

  “Phone call for you, sir.”

  “Is it Sonny Badalamenti?”

  “No, sir. No word on Mr. Badalamenti yet,” Darlene said. “It’s a Mr. Vincent Kearney.”

  “I don’t know who that is. Take a message.”

  “He said it was very important, Mr. Lansdale. He said you knew his father, Dr. Richard Kearney.”

  Darlene held the phone, waiting for Lansdale to break the silence.

  “Put him through,” Lansdale finally said.

  Lansdale took a deep breath.

  “Mr. Kearney, how can I help you?”

  “I think you know why I’m calling, Mr. Lansdale.”

  “I’m not certain that I do.”

  “I have documents that I believe you’re interested in. I believe you heard about them from Jake Diamond.”

  “Yes, I do seem to recall hearing something about some documents,” said Lansdale.

  “Let’s not waste time, Mr. Lansdale. I want to make a deal and decided there was no reason why I needed a middleman. We can leave Diamond out of this. I have the papers with me.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’ll be in town through tonight. I want one hundred thousand dollars. Bring the cash to my hotel and I’ll hand over the documents. Otherwise, I pass them on to Diamond, and you can deal with him.”

  “That’s a large amount of cash to come up with this afternoon, Mr. Kearney.”

  “It is entirely up to you, Mr. Lansdale. I am at the Burnham Hotel on State Street. Suite 712. I’ll be back at the rooms at eight this evening. If you are not there by ten, Jake Diamond will see you on Friday.”

  “I’ll be there,” said Lansdale.

  “Great. Have a good afternoon.”

  The line went dead.

  “Thank fucking God,” Lansdale said aloud, holding on to the phone receiver as if it were unburied treasure. “It’s about fucking time something went my way.”

  He hung up the phone.

  In the car down in the garage, Tom Romano smiled.

  “Did Kearney actually have a son?” asked Eddie.

  “Who knows, Joey Russo dreamed it up.”

  “Vinnie did a terrific job,” said Eddie.

  “Oh, yeah,” Tom said. “Even Darlene will be proud of the kid.”

  “Do you think Lansdale will make the call?”

  “Oh, yes. Lansdale will make the call,” said Romano. “Joey Russo read this guy like a road map.”

  Lansdale made the call a few minutes later.

  As he punched the office phone keypad, the digits were displayed on the LCD device sitting on the car seat between Eddie and Tom. Romano jotted down the phone number.

  After three rings, a recorded voice asked the caller to leave a message. Lansdale simply stated his last name and disconnected.

  “According to Battle,” said Tom, “Lansdale should get a callback at the bagel shop in an hour. I’ll go over in a while to place the microphone and listen in. You’ll wait here and keep an ear on the office.”

  “Got it covered,” said Eddie Hand.

  Max Lansdale came out of his private office at eleven fifteen. He stopped at the reception desk long enough to tell Darlene that he was going out for a quick errand.

  He took the elevator to the lobby, crossed the street, and went into the bagel shop. Going to the phone booth, he sat down on the seat and waited.

  Romano was sitting at a table near the window. The listening device in his left ear was no larger than a hearing aid.

  The telephone rang. Lansdale grabbed the receiver.

  “Lansdale,” he said.

  “Who, where, when?”

  “Vincent Kearney, Burnham Hotel on State, suite 712, after eight and before ten tonight,” Lansdale said.

  “Twenty thousand, tomorrow, I’ll send flowers.”

  “I need something else,” said Lansdale.

  “What?”

  “Kearney has papers that I need to have. You need to get him to give them up before you kill him.”

  “No problem. Thirty thousand.”

  “Thirty?”

  “If I have to talk to the mark it’s going to cost you an extra ten, nonnegotiable.”

  “Okay, thirty thousand,” said Lansdale. “Kearney will be expecting me to bring a payoff, so carry a briefcase or something. Just make sure that you don’t leave without the documents.”

  “Just make sure that you have the cash tomorrow. I’ll send flowers.”

  The line went dead.

  Lansdale rose from the seat, left the booth, and went out to the street. Tom Romano watched him go back into the office building before he left the table and headed back to the garage.

  “Any word on Badalamenti?” Lansdale asked when he walked back into the suite.

  “No, sir,” said Darlene. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

  Lansdale went back to his office without another word. He phoned Vito Ventura in New York as soon he reached the desk.

  In the garage, Tom was climbing into the rental.

  “Lansdale is making a call,” said Eddie, handing Tom the second set of headphones.

  “Ventura and Associates, this is Maggie. How can we help you?”

  “This is Max Lansdale for Mr. Ventura.”

  “Please hold, Mr. Lansdale.”

  “Yes, Maggie?” Vito Ventura answered when she buzzed him on the interoffice.

  “Mr. Lansdale is on the telephone, sir.”

  “Tell him that I’m out, you don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Maggie gave Lansdale the message.

  “Please tell Mr. Ventura that I called, the minute he comes in,” said Lansdale. “Please ask Vito to phone me.”

  “I certainly will, Mr. Lansdale,” she said.

  “Fuck,” said Lansdale as he slammed down the receiver.

  “Ouch,” said Eddie in
the garage below. “How did it go at the bagel shop?”

  “Like clockwork,” Tom said. “The delivery is set for tonight between eight and ten. Ray Boyle will be flying into O’Hare from L.A. at six. Boyle wants to take this guy alive.”

  “Your friend Joey Russo is a genius. I can’t wait to meet him,” said Eddie Hand.

  “It shouldn’t be long,” said Tom Romano.

  At four, Lansdale came out of his private office. After hearing from Darlene that there was no word about Sonny Badalamenti and no word from Vito Ventura, he growled at Darlene that he was leaving for the day and stormed out of the suite.

  Darlene waited thirty minutes before picking up the phone to talk to Tom.

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said.

  Darlene climbed into the car, and Tom and Eddie filled her in.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” Darlene said, “before we go out to the airport to fetch Lieutenant Boyle.”

  “How do you like Lansdale?” Tom asked as he started the engine.

  “A real sweetheart,” Darlene said. “It sounds like our Vinnie did very well.”

  “The kid was beautiful,” said Eddie. “Cool as ice.”

  “I imagine Vinnie is getting a little warmer every minute, worrying about tonight. Let’s take him to dinner and pump him back up. We don’t want him to melt,” Darlene said, pulling out her cell phone. “I’ll let Vinnie know that we’re coming to get him.”

  Twenty-Four

  Wednesday evening. Chicago.

  After dropping Vinnie Strings and Darlene back at the Burnham Hotel after dinner, Eddie and Tom had driven out to the airport to pick up Ray Boyle.

  Darlene worked on Vinnie while they waited for Ray.

  “Don’t try pulling a Belmondo, Vinnie,” she said. “We all know how cool you are without further proof. This guy is a killer; it’s what he does for a living. Follow Ray’s instructions to the word.”

  “Don’t worry, Darlene,” Vinnie said. “I’m not feeling very heroic at the moment.”

  “And lose the eyeglasses, Vinnie,” she said. “They look ridiculous.”

  Vinnie removed the glasses as Darlene’s cell phone rang.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re a block away, Darlene,” said Tom Romano. “We can wait for you at the hotel entrance. Come down when Boyle gets up there and we’ll go to Eddie’s house.”