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“I’m not trying to paint anyone as anything. But if thereisa mole in the crew, we need to root them out before they can do any more damage.”
Tank stares hard at me. “The hell do you care, anyway? You could just walk away, Castellani.”
“Yeah. I could.” I stare right back at him.
After a moment, he sighs. “Van was around yesterday. He’s probably home today. But if you find anything against him, you bringmein on it. Understand? Bricker’s got a blind spot there.”
Don’t I know it.
“I’ll do that,” I tell Tank. “How’s Giddy?”
For the first time in a long time, Tank actually smiles. “They’re releasing him later today. Gotta say, I’m looking forward to sleeping in a bed again.”
I clap his shoulder with a grin before taking my leave. And as I walk back to my car, I feel a spark of satisfaction at having earned even the smallest measure of Tank’s trust.
* * *
Given Jack’s unavailability, I call his right-hand man Freddy Lazzaro instead to get an address for one Giovanni Delligatti. The streets are slick with rain as I make my way to Van’s apartment, the weather as depressed as I am. But I can’t let rain or a heavy heart stop me from doing what I need to do.
“Who is it?” Van’s voice filters through the door, wary at the early-morning intrusion. Ten to one he’s got a gun on me, and he can already see who it is, too. I stare straight back at the peephole.
He’s just jerking me around. “It’s Pedretti,” I sigh.
There’s another long moment before the door swings open, revealing Van in the doorway with a scowl on his face. “What do you want?”
That’s not the greeting I’d get if Bricker had talked to Van about his dad and me, that’s for sure. I don’t know whether to feel better or worse that Bricker’s keeping my lies under wraps…for now.
“Can we talk?” I ask, doing my best to keep my tone neutral.
Van narrows his eyes. “No.”
“Come on, Delligatti. This is important. It’s about Bricker.”
At last he steps aside, allowing me entrance into the apartment. “You have two minutes.”
I wait until he shuts the door before I start talking, and I take a quick look around his apartment. It’s neat enough. Sparsely furnished, but that furniture is all good quality, and his TV rivals Bricker’s for size.
“Look,” I begin, forcing myself to meet his cold gaze. “I know we’ve had our differences, but there’s something bigger going on here. If there’s a mole in the crew, it puts everyone at risk. Especially Bricker.”
“It always comes back to Bricker with you, doesn’t it?”
“I care about him. And I want to protect him, just like you do.”
Van walks away to sit down on his sofa, but doesn’t invite me to take a seat with him. “Is that supposed to make me trust you?”
“If we don’t find the mole, we’re all in danger. But I won’t stand by and let someone hurt Bricker. And I know you won’t, either.”
Van’s eyes widen. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands. “Did Bricker tell you…” I let him trail off, but I don’t want to humiliate him.
I cross the floor and sit down in the armchair opposite him, invitation or not. “I know you’re Bricker’s oldest friend. And that means something, Van. So tell me: are you going to help me or not?”
Van scrutinizes me as he thinks. “Alright, Pedretti,” he says at last, tone still guarded. “I don’t like you, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. But I can see you care about Bricker, and that’s more than I can say for the mole in the crew.” He pauses, his jaw clenched as he forces out the next words. “So, I’ll help you. For Bricker. What do you want?”
I ask him the same question I asked Tank, and get much the same reaction.
“Who suggested it? Bricker, I guess,” he says. “No, wait—he was thinking of the Port originally. Hit them where it’d really hurt. Probably woulda been smarter.” He gives a bitter twist of the mouth.
“You didn’t suggest First National yourself?” I hold up my hands at the jut of his jaw. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to understand the logic behind it.”
