CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SOMEBODY KNOWS HIS NAME

Danny Marino had discovered the only thing worse than being followed. Being expected.

He walked into the Downtown Athletic & Bridge Club a little after nine in the morning and found Tony Spada sitting alone at the card table.

There were no cards on it.

That was Danny’s first warning. His second warning was that Nicky Bellomo wasn’t eating anything. Nicky sat against the wall with his hands folded across his stomach, looking unhappy. For Nicky, not eating was practically a medical emergency.

Tony pointed at a chair.

“Sit down.”

Danny sat.

“You know a place on Hudson Street?”

“There’s a lot of Hudson Street.”

“Four twenty-one.”

Danny kept his face still.

He knew the address.

His father’s office had been there once, years ago. Galaxy something-or-other. Danny hadn’t thought about it in a long time.

“What about it?”

“Go there.”

“And?”

“Stand across the street.”

Danny waited.

Tony said nothing.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What am I looking for?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t need you.”

Nicky shifted in his chair.

Tony looked at him.

Nicky stopped shifting.

Danny stood.

Tony said, “One more thing.”

Danny waited.

“If somebody talks to you, don’t be clever.”

“I’ve never been accused of it.”

Tony almost smiled.

“That’s why you’re still useful.”

Hudson Street smelled of diesel exhaust, coffee and yesterday’s rain.

Danny got there a little before ten.

Number 421 was a narrow commercial building with dirty windows on the upper floors and a loading entrance at street level. A truck stood at the curb with its rear doors open. Two men were carrying cardboard cartons inside.

Nothing unusual.

Danny crossed the street and bought a newspaper.

He had become good at reading newspapers without knowing what was actually in them. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. At twenty minutes, a black sedan pulled up.

Two men got out. Dark suits. Dark hats. White shirts. Danny lowered the newspaper. Men in black.

He had seen enough men dressed that way lately to know that the clothes didn’t tell you anything. Bankers dressed that way. Undertakers dressed that way. Government men dressed that way.

So did killers.

The two men entered 421 Hudson.

They were inside for six minutes.

Danny counted.

When they came out, they weren’t carrying anything.

One of them looked north.

The other looked south.

Then the first man looked directly across the street.

At Danny.

Danny raised the newspaper.

A little late.

The sedan drove away.

Danny remained where he was.

Another ten minutes passed.

A delivery truck came down Hudson and stopped at the building. The driver got out, went around to the rear and opened the doors.

Empty.

Danny watched him go inside.

A voice beside him said, “Mr. Marino?”

Danny didn’t move.

The voice belonged to a thin man in a gray overcoat.

Danny had not seen him approach.

“Depends who’s asking.”

The man smiled.

Not much of a smile.

“Daniel Marino?”

Danny folded the newspaper.

Tony’s instruction came back to him.

Don’t be clever.

Danny had already failed.

“Who wants to know?”

The man looked across the street at 421.

“You should go home.”

“I don’t have one.”

That made the man look at him.

For the first time, something like genuine interest appeared in his face.

“Then go somewhere else.”

“Why?”

“Because nothing that’s happening here concerns you.”

“That usually means it concerns me.”

The man sighed.

“You’re making this difficult.”

“I’ve been told I have a gift.”

The thin man reached inside his coat.

Danny’s muscles tightened.

The man brought out a pack of cigarettes.

He offered one.

Danny shook his head.

The man lit his own.

“Four cases,” he said.

Danny said nothing.

“Two disappeared south of Brooklyn Heights.”

Danny still said nothing.

“One may have come back north.”

A taxi went past.

The thin man watched it until it disappeared.

Then he said, “Everybody is looking for the cases now.”

“Everybody who?”

“That is the problem.”

Danny looked across at 421 Hudson.

“Were those two your people?”

The man smiled again.

“No.”

“Government?”

“No.”

“Miami?”

“No.”

“Chicago?”

The smile disappeared.

“Mr. Marino, you have been talking to too many people.”

That wasn’t good.

Danny glanced toward the corner.

The thin man noticed.

“You can leave whenever you like.”

“That’s comforting.”

“But I would leave now.”

Danny folded the newspaper under his arm.

“Who are you?”

The man dropped his cigarette and stepped on it.

“Somebody who knows your name.”

He walked away.

Danny watched him turn the corner.

Then he crossed Hudson Street.

He wasn’t supposed to.

Tony had told him to stand across the street.

That was exactly why Danny crossed.

The delivery truck was still there.

The driver came out of the building carrying a clipboard.

Danny stepped aside to let him pass.

The driver stopped.

“You Marino?”

Danny stared at him.

That made two.

“Who wants to know?”

“Guy upstairs.”

“What guy?”

The driver shrugged.

“Guy upstairs.”

“What does he look like?”

“Like a guy upstairs.”

Danny was beginning to dislike Hudson Street.

He looked at the entrance.

A man was standing just inside the doorway.

Older. Heavyset. Expensive coat.

Danny recognized him.

He had seen him twice at the Downtown Athletic & Bridge Club. Nobody had ever introduced them.

That alone told Danny the man was important.

The older man crooked one finger.

Danny went inside.

The lobby smelled of wet concrete.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the older man said.

“I’m getting that a lot today.”

“Tony sent you?”

Danny didn’t answer.

The man nodded.

“Good.”

“Good that Tony sent me?”

“Good that you didn’t answer.”

Danny waited.

The man stepped closer.

“You tell Tony something for me.”

“What?”

“There are people looking for those cases who don’t care where they go off.”

Danny studied him.

“I thought everybody wanted them out of New York.”

“Not everybody.”

There it was.

The thing nobody had wanted to say.

“Who wants them here?”

The older man looked toward the street.

“I don’t know.”

Danny believed him.

That frightened him more than if the man had given him a name.

“Then what do I tell Tony?”

“Tell him we stop moving them.”

“Why?”

“No trucks. No trains. No airports. Nothing.”

Danny waited.

The older man’s voice dropped.

“Every time we move one, somebody finds out.”

“Somebody inside?”

“Maybe.”

“Inside what?”

The man gave him a tired look.

“Exactly.”

A horn sounded outside.

The older man moved toward the stairs, then stopped.

“And Marino?”

Danny looked at him.

“If one of those things turns up someplace crowded, you call us before you touch it.”

“Us?”

The man hesitated.

For just a second.

“The people who don’t want anybody killed.”

Then he went upstairs.

Danny stood alone in the lobby.

That was an interesting answer.

Not the Family.

Not the organization.

Not Tony.

Not me.

The people who don’t want anybody killed.

Danny went back outside.

The delivery truck was gone.

Across the street, where Danny had been standing, another man was reading a newspaper.

Black suit.

Black hat.

White shirt.

Danny looked at him.

The man lowered the newspaper.

For a moment they simply stared at each other.

Then Danny walked north.

He didn’t hurry.

At the corner he turned left.

Halfway down the block he looked back.

Nobody was following him.

That bothered him.

He reached Second Avenue forty minutes later. Tony was still at the card table. Nicky was eating a plate of spaghetti. The universe had returned to normal.

Tony looked up. “Well?”

Danny sat down.

“Who are those guys?”

Tony’s expression didn’t change. “Which guys?”

“The men in the black suits.”

Tony was silent. Nicky stopped eating. That was becoming a bad sign. Danny leaned forward. “I’ve seen them at the funeral parlor. I’ve seen them around the cases. Two of them went into Hudson Street this morning. Another one was waiting when I left.”

Tony looked at Nicky.

Nicky suddenly became fascinated by his spaghetti.

Danny said, “Are they ours?”

“No.”

“Government?”

Tony shook his head.

“Miami?”

“No.”

“Chicago?”

Tony looked at him.

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

Danny sat back.

For the first time since this thing had started, Tony Spada looked worried.

Not angry.

Not irritated.

Worried.

Danny remembered the thin man.

Somebody who knows your name.

“Tony.”

“What?”

“They know who I am.”

Tony stared at him.

The room became very quiet.

Even Nicky stopped chewing.

Finally Tony said, “Who knows?”

Danny shook his head.

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN BREAKDOWN

SOMEBODY KNOWS HIS NAME

THE OPENING HOOK

“Danny Marino had discovered something worse than being followed. Being expected.”

The opening immediately changes the nature of the danger. Danny is no longer accidentally stumbling into events. Someone is anticipating his movements.

MAKE ORDINARY THINGS OMINOUS

Tony is sitting at a card table without cards. Nicky isn’t eating.

Neither fact is dangerous by itself, but because both violate established behavior, the reader knows something is wrong before anyone says so.

Recurring characters and habits become useful storytelling tools once the reader knows them.

GIVE THE HERO A SIMPLE JOB

Danny’s assignment couldn’t be simpler:

Go to 421 Hudson Street and stand across the street.

Simple instructions work well in suspense because the reader immediately begins asking: Why there? What is he supposed to see? Who will notice him?

BRING BACK AN ESTABLISHED MYSTERY

The Men in Black return, but the chapter doesn’t explain them.

They could be mobsters, government agents, outsiders or something else entirely. Their clothing tells Danny almost nothing.

The mystery becomes stronger when even Tony doesn’t know who they are.

RAISE THE STAKES WITH ONE SMALL THING

A stranger says:

“Mr. Marino?”

That’s more frightening than another chase or gun.

Until now Danny’s great protection has been his insignificance. He’s useful precisely because he’s nobody.

Now somebody knows his name.

REVEAL INFORMATION WITHOUT SOLVING THE MYSTERY

The thin man knows about the four cases and the two that disappeared south of Brooklyn Heights.

That establishes that information is leaking.

But instead of answering a question, the information creates a larger one:

Who else knows?

CHANGE THE NATURE OF THE CONFLICT

We learn that not everyone wants the cases removed from New York.

Somebody may actually want one of them brought into a crowded part of the city.

That means the problem is no longer simply finding four missing cases. Different groups may be working toward completely different outcomes.

PLANT CHARACTER FOR LATER

The older mobster describes his side simply as:

“The people who don’t want anybody killed.”

We don’t explain whether this is morality, business, loyalty or self-interest.

That’s deliberate.

A small unexplained action now can become important character evidence much later.

LET THE EXPERT BE CONFUSED

Danny assumes Tony knows who the Men in Black are.

He doesn’t.

This changes the scale of the mystery. If Tony Spada doesn’t understand what’s happening, Danny—and the reader—can no longer assume that somebody behind the scenes has everything under control.