THE FOURTH WATCH (54 page)

Matte's smile closed down. "Well, I had to be
... "

''No need to apologize, my friend, we have to
be cautious in this business. I expected you would bring associates
and that's why they are all being photographed right now, just as
you and I are."

Matte's face flushed with anger, his voice
dropped to a harsh whisper. "Why you little

asshole, I... "

"Stop," Sal said, his eyes flashing, "before
you say something that cannot be forgiven. We understand that
secrecy is important, to you and to us. Just as you have certain
friends that you trust, so too, do I. You brought yours, and I have
brought mine. We are here to determine if a business accommodation
can be reached between us. If so, all this” he waved his hand
dismissively “nonsense will have been nothing. If not, we will both
go away with the knowledge that we have ended our association, and
that nothing more will come of it. You will have met me - which I
assure you, very few have done, and which makes me uneasy, and I
will have photographs of you with me in case you were to come back
to me in your law enforcement capacity. You see, business
only."

Matte stared at the man for a long moment,
thinking about what he had said, then he nodded. "Okay."

"Good," Moltinaldo said, smiling again. "Let's
get a drink, and walk. Such a lovely night, what an interesting
celebration! I may come to enjoy the east."

They got ice cold Corona's with lime slices and
strolled along the canal. Matte concentrating on not looking for
photographers. "So, tell me, Mr. Moltanaldo, what can I do for
you?"

"I'll be frank, Chief, because I think we both
want to make this brief. I am an importer of a popular product."
Heroin, Matte knew. He also knew that Moltinaldo would never use
the word, just in case Matte was wired. "The law has a misguided
view of my business and my suppliers see this as my problem, and
demand payment for the product once it reaches my hands, regardless
of any troubles I might encounter."

Matte was nodding.

"I am in the process of making arrangements for
product to arrive by rail here at the Port of Worcester,"
Moltinaldo laughed at this, "How far is the ocean from
Worcester?"

"Forty miles," Matte said chuckling along with
him.

"So it's the trains?"

"Yes. We intend for Worcester to become our
distribution center. We do not care to encounter ... ah ...
competing organizations on their own turf, in say Boston, or here
in Providence - although we are certainly capable of protecting are
interests against them."

Matte understood. "Turf wars are expensive and
attract attention."

"Precisely. So your city is good for us
because, as we understand it, the competition isn't paying much
attention."

Matte laughed. "You have a way with words, Mr.
Moltinaldo. Yes, the Boston and Providence Families, such as they
are, are in a mangled state, hiding from the Feds, tryin' to hold
on where they are, and don't want to fight about Worcester just
now."

The skin around Moltinaldo's eyes wrinkled into
a smile. "That's what we think. So we need protection as we set up.
Obviously, we will encounter some resistance locally from small
groups that are already exploiting the situation, perhaps people
with whom you may already have a relationship, and we'll have to
fold those into our organization. We suspect you can help us in
identifying targets. We will require your exclusive loyalty during
this ... how shall we call it ... consolidation effort. Of course
we will cover any losses you experience in transition."

This guy is good, Matte was thinking as he
listened. He is gonna come in and wipe out the competition, keep
anyone he thinks is worth saving, and I'm going to suggest who
those people might be. He's giving me a chance to get rid of my
enemies and protect my friends. I'm gonna have to stab a few of
these guys in the back, but whatever I lose doing that, he's gonna
cover. I'm going to basically help set up the organization, then be
its protector. Slick. The little wetback has thought this thing
through.

"And then we are going to need protection going
forward," Moltinaldo was saying.

"Protection for our receiving and distribution
networks, along with cover and assistance for the ... ah ... more
traditional business we'll be establishing. Licensing, property
acquisition, etc. "

Fronts and money laundering operations, Matte
knew.

"Is this making sense to you, Chief
Genetassio?"

"Yes, Mr. Moltinaldo, I understand what you're
saying."

"Very good." Moltinaldo paused. "Now there is
an intricate part to all this, which is of course how the product
is going to arrive here. We use a unique system, whereby a local
importer is used to flow the product, mostly without managements
knowledge. They have to be protected without actually knowing their
being protected."

"Really? And who's that?" Matte asked, guessing
this guy wasn't ready to tell him.

Moltanaldo smiled. "Let's sit for a minute," he
said.

They sat at a bench along the canal, their
faces flickering in the light from the leaping flames on the water.
Moltinaldo leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and watched
a boat load of happy tourists slide by. "I think it's time that I
asked you if this is something you are interested in helping us
with."

Matte too looked at the water. This guy was the
real deal. He could tell. If he got in, he suspected that it would
be dangerous business. This wasn't going to be fixing parking
tickets and putting the arm on bookies and pimps. But he also
figured the rewards were going to be in line with the risks. After
a while he nodded, more to himself than his companion. "Yeah," he
said, "I'm interested."

"Good. And let me ask you this. Are you sure
that you are in a position to help us? Will you be able to perform
these duties? Because we will be relying on you."

"Mr. Moltinaldo," Matte said, turning his head
from the water fires to look at him, "you've checked me out, or you
wouldn't be here. You know, or at least have guessed, that I am
probably the only guy in the city that can deal with something like
this."

"True. But are you willing to take
the risk. Once you're in - you're in. There is no quitting half
way. You
do
understand that?"

"I do."

"Good."

"But let me ask you, Mr. Moltinaldo, what are
you offering for all this protection and counsel that I'm going to
be providing. What kind of money are we talkin' about
here?"

"Well, we expect to pay you quite well, because
we will be expecting a great deal in return. We encounter enough
difficulty running our business. We do not need problems with law
enforcement here. We are proposing $50,000 a month for you
personally, plus expenses, of course. We know that others are going
to have to be compensated up and down the line, and we don't expect
that that will come out of your end. As I said, we will also cover
any losses you encounter in transferring your loyalty to us. Does
that sound like a fair proposal?"

Matte had almost passed out. It had taken him
thirty years on the force to work himself up to a salary of ninety
thousand a year. He picked up another forty in OT. Last year he
netted another hundred and seventy thousand off the streets, and he
thought he was rich. He kept his composure though. "Well ... um,
yeah, yeah, that's fair ... that's okay."

"Good, I hate to haggle about money with valued
friends." Moltinaldo stuck out his hand and Matte took
it.

They sat in silence a moment, Matte knowing
that Moltinaldo was waiting for him to say something. "So...how do
we get this started? What do you need me to do?"

Discreetly, Moltinaldo took an envelope out of
his sport coat pocket and slid it across the bench. Matte knew the
whole thing was being photographed, but didn't care anymore. "There
is a hundred thousand dollars there to help you start. Within the
next month we will be buying property and opening businesses, we've
already looked at a few, and product will begin to flow into a
warehouse near the container yards."

Matte nodded along, "Okay."

Moltinaldo pointed to the envelope. "The
address of the property we will be buying on the first of the
month, and the name of the company we will be establishing and the
nature of its business are in there. We will expect no problems in
getting this started."

"Okay," Matte said again, wondering if he had
the people he needed to deal with it.

"And I want you to familiarize yourself with
the company that will be moving our product. Figure out a way to
make sure that there are no ... complications ... with the movement
of any of their containers out of the yard to their warehouse,
which you'll see is located near ours."

He knew people in the yards. "What's the
company?"

"It's called 'The Loading Dock,' do you know
it?"

Matte blinked. "The Loading Dock - out of
Natick?"

"Yes," Moltinaldo said, "is that a
problem?"

Matte laughed heartily. "No Sir. Not at all.
Mr. Moltinaldo, I think I'm going to be more help to you than you
thought," he said, sliding the envelope into his pocket and shaking
his head with the irony. "I surely do."

*****

NOW AS SHE WATCHED
the fire spit and jump, and worried her nail. She
had learned to live with the murder of her father-in-law. The
miserable old prick was a danger to her anyway, and tried to
destroy her - so fuck him. Matte had helped her set up an off shore
bank account, and ten thousand dollars a month had been being paid
into it for her. It was her escape money. If Teddy ever found out
about her, and threw her out, well she had money. If this whole
thing came down around her, she could run and not starve. It had
been so simple at first. All she had to do was keep her eyes and
ears open and report anything that sounded like the family was onto
the use of the company by Matte's friends, and for a couple of
years, there was nothing. Then Red got weird, and she told Matte
about it. He said it could be anything, just keep an eye on him. In
the end, ironically, Red had called Matte himself, and told him
that he suspected that his business was being used to bring stuff
through customs. She hadn't even been needed. Even when they killed
him, all she had to do was make sure the barn was open and leave
his clothes. The plan had worked perfectly, everyone thought he
just drowned when he was drunk.

Everyone except Carolyn, and now she was
dead.

Ellen couldn't believe that they had killed
her. She almost went to the cops after that. Almost let her
conscience win out. She liked Carolyn. But in the end there was
Matte again, reminding her that she was an accomplice to Red's
murder. Logically explaining that all her nasty little secrets
would be aired in the public and she'd go to jail, or end up dead
herself, and none of it would bring Carolyn back. What was done was
done. He said that they hadn't been trying to kill Carolyn, that it
was just the lawyer that they were after. She didn't really believe
him, but she tried to, because it made it easier to live with.
Matte said everything would be back to normal soon. If the lawyer
died, that would certainly be the end of it. Even if he lived, he
had no client now. The official police position on what happened to
him, and to Carolyn, was that they were just the unlucky victims of
gang violence, and the cops were beefing up the gang units in
response. Matte even had the Mayor giving speeches about it. All
they had to do was keep their cool and the whole thing would go
away.

But, now that odd little man had come around,
pretending to be a detective, staring at her funny and wondering
about her relationship with Matte. Matte said he knew who the guy
was and that he'd take care of it. She shivered as she remembered
the sound of his voice when he'd said that. So now all she could do
is sit and wait and worry.

What would happen next?

36

WALTER WAS CHEWING
an ice cube and staring at the TV behind the bar
when a man slipped onto the bar-stool next to him. He was at the 99
Restaurant in Hudson. It was dark and the tables were crowded
behind him.

"Gonna snow," the man said. He defied specific
description. He was not tall, nor was he short. He was not muscular
but nor was he particularly thin. He wore his brown hair cut
regular with a part on the right side. His complexion was neither
light nor dark, his skin neither ruddy nor soft, and his features
were in proportion. He was not handsome but his face was not
unattractive. If Walter had to guess his age he'd be able to do no
better than say that it was 35 to 50. He wore no facial hair and no
jewelry except for a gold wedding band on his left hand.

Walter turned to him. "Let me guess ...
"

"No need for that," the man told him. He placed
an 10 x 12 inch brown envelope on the bar. ''Everything in there is
self explanatory."

It was 4:00PM on Friday afternoon. No one paid
any attention to them.