“I woulda got more tape but a lot of his muscle was haulin’ ass outta there and some of them was comin’ my way. So I did a little ass haulin’ myself.”

“But you got enough?”

“I got plenty. I hear the pilots are OK, but Dragovic’s in deep shit for shootin’ up their copter. Accordin’ to the news they didn’t find no heavy drugs in his place. Too bad, but at least some of his guys got tagged for possession. And of course he’s up on all sortsa state, county, and federal weapons charges and even”—Sal snickered here—”disorderly conduct from the town of East Hampton!” His tone sobered. “But I bet the fucker’s out on bail already.”

“You can count on it. That’s where the tapes come in. Did you send them off?”

“Made a shitload of copies last night, then went to the messenger service first thing this morning—did the locals, all the networks, CNN, Fox, even public access. If they got an antenna or a satellite, they got a tape.”

“And you paid cash, right?”

“Course. Ay, I don’t wanna be connected to this. No way.”

“Good. Now just keep your eyes on the TV this morning.”

“You kiddin’? I got the remote glued to my freakin’ hand. I—wait a sec. Here’s something! A special report. Turn on channel four, quick!”

I’m not exactly near a TV,” Jack said.

“This is it! They’re showing it! Yes! Yyy-essss!” Jack was sure now that Sal was indeed dancing around. It was a sight he preferred to imagine rather than witness. “He’s fucked! He is so fucked! He may be out on bail but he won’t be able to show his puss in this town—hell, in the whole freakin’ world again without somebody laughin’ at him!”

“Now do you believe in a fate worse than death?”

“Yes!” Sal shouted. “Oh, yes!”

“And is it enough?”

“Yeah, Jack.” Sal’s voice softened as it dropped about a hundred decibels. “I think it is. And I think it’s gonna be easier for me with my sister now.”

“Jeez, don’t tell her anything,” Jack said quickly.

“Ay, I ain’t stupid. I know how stuff gets around and I don’t wanna wake up dead some morning. But at least I think I can finally look Roseanne in the eye now and not feel like a useless wuss. She won’t know, but I’ll know, and that’s what counts, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

“Yeah, Sal, I do.”

2

“Who?” Milos screamed.

He stood in the center of his office in the rear of the unfinished Belgravy and stared at the remnants of a thirty-two-inch Sony TV before him. A brass table lamp jutted from the smoking hole of what had once been its Trinitron screen.

“Who?”

Who had done this to him? Who hated him so to publicly humiliate him this way? He couldn’t believe that this East Hampton Environmental Protection Committee had done it. Truth was, he couldn’t bear the thought of having been hooked, netted, and filleted for all the world to see by some raised-pinkie, tea-sipping, silver-spoon-sucking pussy from old-money Long Island.