Page 35 of Third Crime's A Charm
Marty mimicked Truman in his wheezing rasp. “Never thought you’d get yourself a boy toy but we all do stupid shit when we hit fifty.”
“Fuck yourself, Marty,” Truman said as he turned for the door. “I can’t believe I came back for this.”
“Alright! Let’s not have another Tennyson tantrum. What have you got for me?”
“A draft of the deposition you intend to provide and your requests,” Truman said as he opened his briefcase on the foot of the bed. “You don’t need to sign anything yet. None of this is legal or binding until they’ve formally agreed to the deal and they won’t until they know what we’re offering.”
“They’ll find out soon enough,” Marty said, laughing and coughing into his fist. “Where’s my cigar?” he called.
“You need another cigar like you need another hole in the head,” Truman muttered under his breath as he came around and handed Marty a folder to look through.
Truman made a hesitant sound, grimacing as he prepared to make his pitch. This was a crucial part of Truman’s plan. All suspicion would fall on him if he was the only other person who knew the star was headed to New York. And Matteo would be guilty by association if they were together the entire weekend.
“I know that look,” Marty said and wagged a finger at Truman. “You’re about to tell me something I won’t like.”
“We have to give them some kind of warning so the right people will be there. A couple of field agents can’t make a deal like this and they sure as hell can’t take custody of…it.”
“That’s not my problem,” Marty said with a belligerent shake of his head. “Feds lie and they leak. They’ll sell their own mothers out for a boat or a Ferrari.”
“So do cons. You sold your brother out so you could fuck his wife,” Truman replied and pointed, making Marty laugh until he erupted into one of his coughing fits. “Here,” Truman said as he passed Marty a handkerchief from the bedside table.
“Worst mistake I ever made, fucking Peter’s mother. She never let me forget and said I was like King David, sending Uriah off to die. But she was no Bathsheba, let me tell you.”
Truman held up a hand. “I’d rather you didn’t. And don’t change the subject. I didn’t risk my life so you could bitch about dry pussy.”
“I’ll bitch about whatever I want, that’s what I pay you for.”
“No, you pay me because I keep old shit bags like you alive and out of prison. And I’m telling you, you can’t drop a bombshell on Justice and expect them to thank you!” Truman said angrily. “They’ll shut down the meeting and wait for an associate AG or the Deputy to advise them on how to proceed.You’ll be pinned down in Manhattan and the whole world will know becausethatwill get leaked.”
“All it takes is one jackass to talk,” Marty argued but Truman could tell by the way he was pouting that he was coming around.
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Truman said, his tone resigned. “We don’t have to tell them what it is, but we have to let them know it’s worth sending in their big guns. They have to know what kind of deal you’re expecting so they can get their bosses’ blessings.”
Marty nodded slowly. “They won’t know what we’re bringing, though?”
“They might guess but they won’t want it getting out either, in case they’re wrong or you’re jerking them around,” Truman predicted and Marty snickered.
“They’d look like clowns if they told everyone they were getting it and I was lying.”
“Or if it was a fake,” Truman said tightly and jabbed a finger in his direction. “It better not be a fake. I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself, Marty,” he threatened in a hard growl, causing Marty to splutter.
“What fuckin’ good would that do me? I don’t have time for pranks!” he shouted up at Truman. “I wanna die in my own bed instead of wasting away in some crummy prison clinic or accidentally driving into a lake, if you know what I mean.”
Truman gestured for him to relax. “You’ll start coughing again. I trust you. Mostly,” he added with a wink. “Right now, you’ve got the party as a good excuse to be in New York. My contacts at the DOJ have managed to keep this quiet so far. Let me tip them off and advise them that this isbigbut it’s sensitive. I’ll only tell them the bare minimum,” he said and gave Marty’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “You’re nearly there. You’ll have a new name and be relaxing in Napa soon.”
“Okay, do it,” Marty finally said, then grinned at Truman. “Think you’ll miss me?”
“Absolutely not,” Truman said without hesitating and they both laughed.
The meeting wrapped up quickly after that. Truman confirmed that he’d check into the hotel the day before and welcome Marty and his entourage when they arrived on Saturday. He would check in with Marty throughout the weekend and they would meet at Truman’s office on Monday for the big showdown. With the mission accomplished, Truman promptly left Chicago in a waiting jet.
He was anxious to get home but it had nothing to do with a pissed-off hitman. His flight to Chicago left before Matteo had woken up so Truman had yet to hear his voice. Dueling with Matteo was so much better than taunting a divorced assassin. Truman missed Matteo and looked forward to briefing him about the meeting with Marty.
Perhaps Matteo would reward Truman for his performance once he heard the recording… Truman was in the habit of recording his meetings with Marty but had never shared them with anyone. It would be illuminating, watching Matteo analyze every moment and extract more data for his notepad.
Then, Truman’s excitement was tempered when he recalled that the party was only six days away. He had yet to give Matteo a reason to stay after his role in the heist was over. Which reminded Truman to erase the part about turning fifty and Matteo being a boy toy. That would not be helpful.
Fifteen
