A chuckle rises up; two floors, maybe three below.
“That’s a fair warning. Hey, it's good to hear a friend’s voice. Maybe you could help me out. I seem to have collected a few bullets. Apparently I couldn't quite trust Tony Lombardo as much as I thought I could.”
It's Sonny Vegas.
“Turned on you, did he?”
“Well, I did the one thing a native son of Vegas should never do. I hedged my bets. Shoulda put it all on you instead, am I right?”
I make my way cautiously down the stairs, making sure my head doesn't offer an attractive target. Just because Sonny says he's been betrayed and shot, doesn't mean hehasbeen. There are dead bodies up and down the stairs, but I ignore them, kicking them aside as I prowl down.
“What exactlywasthe plan, Sonny? Take out every East Coast Boss?”
“Pretty much. Tony Lombardo was tired of you New Yorkers interfering in his Chicago business, just the same as we were out West.”
“I'm gonna need you to throw your gun away,” I tell him. I still can't see him, but I can hear his wet breathing now. It sounds like he's taken a bullet in the lung. “You hear me, Sonny? Throw it over the railings.”
“Can't reach that far, friend.” But a second later, I see a handgun slide across the floor one flight down from me.
He may well have another gun, but I've got to get past him one way or another. I glance back up at Finch, and motion with two fingers for him to start coming down, then put a finger to my lips to make sure he’s quiet about it. No need to let Sonny know he’s with me.
I make my way slowly down until I see Sonny’s legs sticking out in front of him, feet flopping to either side. He comes fully into view, soaked in blood, holding a hand over his chest.
“I've got a phone,” he says. “In my pocket. I'm gonna take it out and call for an ambulance.”
“No need,” I say. “They're on their way; that was quite a bang upstairs. But that bomb came from the Irish, didn’t it?”
“Nothing personal, you understand,” he says, giving his big Vegas grin. His teeth are stained pink. “You weren’t supposed to bring that cutie of yours to the meeting. The Irishman only wantedyoudead, Morelli.”
From above, Finch gives a little gasp, but I don’t think Sonny heard it.
“Why would he want me dead?”
“Who knows why those crazy Irish do anything?” Sonny counters.
“You, Sonny. You must have some idea. Becauseyouallowed that gondolier to come for me in your hometown. You shut him up before I could break him, too.”
Sonny nods slowly. “Never wanted to give you a chance with the gondolier in the first place, but you were mighty insistent. I didn’t like it from the start, that whole thing, and if I had my time again I wouldn’t have agreed.”
“But youdidagree.” Sonny gives me a regretful smile. “You were right. You shouldn’t have bet against me.”
“I see that now, Morelli. Now that I think about it, I guess I do know a little something about the Irishman. You get me outta here, I’ll tell you.”
“You tell me and I’ll think about getting you out.”
Sonny Vegas tries to stare me down and fails, fast. “Alright,” he says with another blood-tinged grin. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ll tell you my impressions. We’ve been scratching each other’s backs for a while now, me and that Irish guy. He’s a talented killer and he’ll do anything for money. Sends it all back to his cronies in the motherland. Me, I prefer to keep out of Irish business…but we got to drinking one night and he was trying to get some info outta me. Pretending like he knew stuff about my business, pressing me to tell him more. Sharing shit of his own just to make out like we were friends.”
Exactly the same play Gus made with Frank. Only Sonny wasn’t foolish enough to take the bait.
“He said the Donovans had been donating to the Irish cause for decades, until old Howard Donovan pulled out,” Sonny goes on. “But Gus saw a chance once the old man was dead. He wanted the Donovans back in more profitable areas so they could bankroll him again. He seemed to think your husband would agree. I told him no chance; even out West we knew Finch D’Amato was done with the Irish. But he said—and I’m just the messenger, here, remember—he said ifyouwere dead and gone, Howie Donovan would remember soon enough who his real family were.”
“I see.” I can feel Finch’s anger radiating down the stairwell. He’s going to go off soon like another bomb. “He thought having me out of the picture would make it easier to manipulate Finch. And he supplied you with the bomb to take out the Commission today—tit for tat.”
“Our business runs on favors. Favors and betrayals. Just like that Chicago fucker Lombardo betrayedmetoday. Fucking shot me and left me to die here. I guess I can’t blame him, though.” He chuckles and then groans. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, am I right?”
I take another few steps down. “What was the point of taking out the Commission?”
“Seemed worth it at the time,” he says. “Get rid of all those old men at the same time, since they were never going to change. And you, Morelli, you were always too dangerous.”
