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Thirty-Eight

THERE WERE THREE men in the room with Harvey in the basement of Testa Produce, Inc. Danny Testa stood in the open doorway of the refrigerated room, blowing cigar smoke through an opening in the plastic curtain. Sally stood on one side of Harvey, pulling on the end of a length of metal wire. The wire was wrapped once around Harvey's neck. Skinny stood on the other side, the other end of the wire wrapped around his gloved hand. Harvey sat in a chair, his wrists tied behind him with duct tape. His ankles were taped together also, and a rope around his waist kept him lashed to the chair. He was making a rattling sound as Sally and Skinny tugged on the wire, and his pants were wet.

"Look at that," said Skinny. "He pissed himself."

"Couldn't hold it?" said Sally, giving the wire another jerk. "Witta baby couldn't hold it? I told you, you shoulda gone before we left."

Sally laughed and gave his end of the wire another tug. The rattling sound stopped. He let go of the wire. Skinny, wearing a full-length apron, took a short length of coaxial cable and a miniature baseball bat from Danny. He gave the cable to Sally and held on to the bat.

"What the fuck is this?" said Skinny.

"I got it at Bat Day at the stadium," said Danny. "Don't fuckin' knock it. Use it right, it hurts."

Harvey sat trembling and wheezing in the cold room, his breath condensing in the refrigerated air.

"Hurry up," said Danny. "I got the day crew comin' in in a few hours. I got a fuckin' business to run here, I don't want this to take all fuckin' night. Find out what we gotta find out and we can go home."

Skinny brought the little bat down sharply across Harvey's nose. There was a crunching sound as the nose broke. Harvey shrieked, and blood ran down over his lips and dribbled off his chin. The refrigerated room was packed floor to ceiling with crates of vegetables, cases of Chinese fireworks, and two racks of men's suits. They absorbed the sounds of the bat as Skinny brought it down twice more, once on each knee. Harvey shrieked again. Sally whipped the coaxial cable across Harvey's cheeks a few times, back and forth. Harvey's screams tapered off into a broken moan, then a whimper. He sat, head bowed, crying silently in pain. Sally stomped on the arches of his feet, eliciting another scream. Skinny leaned in close and pressed the narrow end of the bat against Harvey's broken nose. "Ask him," he said to Sally.

"What did you tell them, asshole," demanded Sally. "What... did... you... tell them?" Skinny pressed the bat harder against the bloody nose.

"I had no... no choice," spluttered Harvey.

Sally hit him in the mouth with the cable, shattering teeth.

"Don't hit him inna fuckin' mouth, Sally," admonished Danny. "The fuckin' guy's gotta talk."

Skinny gave Harvey another tap on the nose.

"How long, asshole?" asked Sally. "How long have you been talking to the fuckin' cops?"

"Thinna beginnin," said Harvey, through broken teeth. "Thinna beginna..."

Skinny whacked him another time with the bat, on the right knee. Harvey jumped in the chair. Skinny hit him in the left knee.

"Tapes..." said Danny. "Ask him if they got tapes."

"Tapes," said Sally, his upper lip trembling near Harvey's ear. "They got tapes?"

Harvey nodded, and Sally punched him in the jaw.

Danny shook his head.

"The fuck's been wearin' a fuckin' wire, you asshole," he said to Sally. "They got you on tape." He gave Sally a fierce look.

Sally punched Harvey again. It made a wet, slapping noise.

"I don't think they got much," he said. "I was careful."

"Whaddaya mean, they don't got much?" yelled Danny. "They prolly got the fuckin place wired up like a fuckin' Christmas tree! Jerk!"

Sally put his face up close to Harvey's. "How long?" he asked. "How long they been listenin' to me?"

"The begin... " managed Harvey.

"You already know that, you fuckin' moron," said Danny, disgustedly. "It's a sting, got it? He was workin' with the fuckin' feds from the start. You been lendin' our fuckin' money to the fuckin feds, unnerstand?"

Sally stepped back, fuming. He started to take another swing at Harvey and backed off. He stood, blinking with rage in the cold room, opening and closing his fists.

"They had that beef with the clinics hangin' over him," said Danny. "He's been with them from the fuckin' start."

Sally walked over to a stack of cartons stamped MADE IN MACAO and ripped off the top of one. He rummaged around inside for a moment, withdrew his hand and tore open another carton.

"What the fuck are you doin'?" said Danny.

Sally turned away from the carton with a handful of cherry bombs.

"Hey, I get money for those," complained Danny. "They don't fuckin' buy 'em, the box is open."

"You eat yet, Harvey?" said Sally. "You eat yet?" He reached over and pinched Harvey's nostrils closed. Harvey's eyes raced around the room. He began rocking back and forth in the chair, straining violently at the rope around his waist, trying to keep Sally's other hand away from his face.

"Hold him!" yelled Sally. "Will you fuckin' hold him!" He pressed the handful of cherry bombs roughly against Harvey's mouth.

"I'm holdin', I'm holdin'," said Skinny, pulling back on the twisted metal wire around Harvey's neck. Harvey struggled to keep his mouth closed. Skinny raised the bat high up over his head and smashed it down against his collarbone. There was a sharp snap and Harvey passed out; his head fell forward onto his chest and his mouth opened, bloody spittle running onto his shirt.

Sally pulled his head up by the nose and crammed the cherry bombs into his open mouth, distending his cheeks. Two of the cherry bombs rolled out and fell on Harvey's lap. Skinny looked over at Danny, raising an eyebrow. Danny nodded at him. "Finish him," he said.

Skinny walked over to a shelf, reached behind a case of escarole, and removed a brown paper bag. He took a.22-caliber Colt Woodsman out of the bag.

Sally was on his knees, in front of Harvey, fumbling with a book of matches. The draft from the cooling-system compressor kept blowing them out. He tried to light one of the fuses in Harvey's mouth, but the blood and saliva extinguished it.

"Wait, wait," he said. "I almost got it lit."

"C'mon, Sally, we don't got time for this," said Danny. "We know what we gotta fuckin' know."

Skinny shook his head without expression.

"I almost got it that time," said Sally, lighting another match. "Fuckin fuses are fuckin' wet. Keep gettin' blown out..."

Danny looked at Skinny and nodded again. Skinny pressed the barrel of the.22 against the back of Harvey's head at an upward angle and squeezed the trigger. He moved the gun in a semicircle along the base of Harvey's skull, letting off round after round. The room filled with the smell of cordite, the smoke blowing quickly around in the draft from the compressor. When the hammer clicked on a spent cartridge, Skinny put the pistol back in the brown paper bag and took off his apron. He wrapped the bag in the apron and tied the strings neatly around the package with a bow.

"Go get Victor," said Danny. "Get Victor and them upstairs. Tell them they can take him out to the place and dump him."

Sally still crouched in front of Harvey with the matches.

"C'mon Sally," said Danny. "What's the point?"

A few sparks sputtered out of Harvey's mouth, followed by a plume of smoke. There was a loud hiss. Sally stepped back and covered his ears, and Harvey's cheeks blew apart, spraying bits of flesh and enamel around the room.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" said Danny, wiping the corner of his eye with his pinky. "I got fuckin' food in here!"

"The fuck," said Sally. "The fuck!... He really put me innit, didn't he?"

"What the fuck you do that for?" asked Danny. "You didn't hafta do that. It's a fuckin' mess in here. Look at this fuckin' place!"

"I hope he felt that," said Sally.

"He didn't feel nothin'," said Danny. "The fuckin' guy was dead."

"Maybe he felt it," said Sally. "You never know."

"You can be a real fuckin' asshole sometimes," said Danny. "Now go upstairs with Skinny and tell Victor, get a hose down here and clean this fuckin' place out. It's a fuckin' mess."

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