Page 79 of The Picasso Heist
“In Afghanistan we never went through a door without knowing what was on the other side,” said Malcolm. “Bots, drones, infrared, paid informants—we did whatever it took to find out. Because once you walk through the door, there’s no turning back.”
“What are you proposing?”
“Let me find out exactly what’s behind the door with Bergamo. There’s probably nothing to worry about. But just in case there is.”
Lugieri mulled it over, running a finger up and down the side of his face. “He can’t get wind that you’re sniffing around him, though,” he said.
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Did you?” asked Malcolm.
“Did I what?”
“Know that I was sniffing around you?”
“Oh, yeah?” Lugieri chuckled. “What’d you learn?”
Malcolm rattled off a nine-digit number.
“That’s not my Social Security number,” Lugieri said.
“No,” said Malcolm. “It’s Enzio Bergamo’s.”
Lugieri cocked his head as it dawned on him. “You already knew that Bergamo’s been cleaning money for us? How’d you know that?”
“It’s what I do.”
“And I should do what I do. I should kill you for that.”
“But you won’t.”
“You’re right, I won’t. That’s the reason I brought you in, that type of mindset. So go ahead, do your checking on Bergamo. But make no goddamn mistake: From now on, what you know about me is only what I choose to tell you,” said Lugieri. “Otherwise I’ll kill you for sure.”
CHAPTER68
I SHOW UPunannounced at Bergamo’s office above his flagship store in SoHo. He’s pissed I didn’t give him any heads-up and worries I might have been followed.
In another minute or so, these will be the least of his problems.
“Which do you want first, the good news or the bad?” I ask.
Before he answers, he stands up from behind his massive desk, comes around, and closes his door. As far as his two assistants out front are concerned, I’m here on behalf of Echelon.
“Start with the good news,” he says, sitting back down. His desk chair, with its tufted leather and thick armrests, is like a throne. “Then maybe what follows won’t seem so bad.”
Fair enough. “The good news is that Elise Joyce got her search warrant.”
Bergamo looks like a little boy whenever he frowns. “I was hoping for something better.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I thought you told me that what I gave you would be enough for her to get the warrant.”
“No, Ihopedit would be enough, and not just for her but, more important, for the judge.”
“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes. “So when’s it going to happen?”
