"Sophia has always been strong-willed and of questionable judgment in her sexual choices," said Farino.
Kurtz shrugged again. He didn't give a damn about the fact or the insult behind it.
"Sophia told you about the connection between Miles and these two killers?" Farino said softly. "Suggesting that she believes Miles is behind everything?"
"Yep. But that doesn't mean she's telling the truth. She could be running both Miles and Malcolm and his knife-freak buddy."
"But you said that she was the one who bailed you out and warned you about the yard contract on you, Mr. Kurtz."
"She bailed me out. I have to take her word for the yard shank at County."
"And why would she go to all that trouble and lie?" asked Farino.
"To check me out," suggested Kurtz. "To find out what I'm really up to and how much I know. To put herself above suspicion." Kurtz looked out the tinted windows. The alley was very dark. "Mr. Farino, Sophia met bail, took me home, and almost threw me into the sack. Maybe she's just a tramp, like you say, but I don't believe it was my magnetic personality that made her go out of her way to seduce me."
"I doubt that you required much seducing, Mr. Kurtz."
"That's not the point," said Kurtz. "The point is that you know how intelligent she ishell, that's why you're afraid she might be behind Richardson's disappearance and the truck hijackingsso you see why it makes more sense that there's a motive behind her actions."
"But Sophia is in line to inherit my wealth and much of the legitimate family business," said the don, looking at his clenched hands.
"That's what she said," said Kurtz. "Do you know any reasons why she would want to hurry the process along?"
Don Farino turned his face away. "Sophia has always been impatient. And she would like to be Don."
Kurtz laughed. "Women can't be dons."
"Perhaps Sophia does not accept that," said Farino with a thin smile.
"You're not quite as busy circling the drain or as out of the loop as everyone thinks, are you?" said Kurtz.
Farino looked back at Kurtz, and there was
something almost demonic in the old man's gaze. "No, Mr. Kurtz. I am paralyzed from the waist down and temporarilyhow did you put it? Out of the loop. But I am nowhere near circling the drain. And I have no intention of staying out of the loop."
Kurtz nodded. "Maybe your daughter just doesn't want to wait around like Prince Charles for five or six decades and is ready to help the succession along a little bit. What's the fancy name for whacking the Old Manpatricide?"
"You are a crude man, Mr. Kurtz." Farino smiled again. "But there has been no discussion of whacking to this point. I hired you to find out what is going on with Richardson's disappearance and the truck hijackings."
Kurtz shook his head. "You hired me to be a target so you could find out who the shooter is so as to protect your own ass, Farino. Why did you kill Carl?"
"Pardon me?"
"You heard me. Sophia said Carl 'died of complications. Why did you put a hit on him?"
"Carl was a fool, Mr. Kurtz."
"No argument there, but why whack him? Why not just cut him loose?"
"He knew too much about the family."
"Bullshit," said Kurtz. "The average cub reporter at the Buffalo Evening News knows more about the workings of your mob family than dear, departed, dipshit Carl could've ever figured out. Why did you have him whacked?"
Farino was silent for several moments. Kurtz listened to the heavy engine idle. One of the bodyguards lit a cigarette, and the match flare was a small circle of diffused light in the black alley.
"I wanted to put her in touch with a certain technician," Farino said at last.
"A hit man," said Kurtz. "Someone from outside the family."
"Yes."
"Someone outside the Mafia?"
Farino showed an expression of distaste, as if Kurtz had farted in his expensive limousine. "Someone from outside the organizational structure, yes."
Kurtz chuckled. "You sonofabitch. You wanted Sophia to spend time with this hit man just to see if she'd hire him to kill me. Ol' Carl died just so you'd have a reason for this operator and your little girl to chat."
Farino said nothing.
"Did she?" said Kurtz. "Hire him to kill me?"
"No."
"What's this technician's name?"
"Since he was not hired, his name is of no concern."
"It is to me," said Kurtz, and there was an undertone to his voice. "I want to know all the players." He touched the.38 in his belt.
Farino smiled, as if the idea of Kurtz's shooting him and getting away alive were amusing. Then the smile faded as the don considered the fact that Kurtz might do the former without worrying about the latter. "No one knows this man's name," he said.
Kurtz waited.
"He's known as the Dane," Farino said after another long silence.
"Holy shit," breathed Kurtz.
"You've heard of him?" Farino's smile was back.
"Who hasn't? The Kennedy mob connections in the seventies. Jimmy Hoffa. There are rumors that the Dane was behind that lovely underpass hit in Paris, where he used just the little car, no weapon."
"There are always rumors," agreed Farino. "Aren't you going to ask for a description of the Dane?"