“Pretty tough, kid. The hand, the face…looks like you just went ten rounds with someone heavy. The shit puts a little man into you.”

“You killed him,” Noam whispered.

Hersh said, “You think I’m a monster for doin’ that?” He stood up and poked a finger in Noam’s chest. “Let me tell you something, Nick-O. I heard you clickin’ the Beretta. When you pulled the trigger, were you thinkin’ if the gun was loaded or not?”

He poked him again.

“Huh? Were you?”

Noam shook his head no. No, he wasn’t thinking about that. More aveyrahs. To get himself killed was the only solution. “No,” he said. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Hey, you think it’s bad you pulled the trigger, I think it’s good. That’s why I helped you. I could see that you’re a mover and shaker. I mean, you fucked up this time. But that was your first time at bat and hell, I can give you a little grace period. Next time we go with a loaded gun.”

Next time, Noam thought. Confession tonight. Because next time would be the last time.

Hersh was staring at him. Trying to read him.

“I mean if there ever is a next time,” Hersh said. “We got a pretty good haul. And like I said, the dickhead’s money should be comin’ my way soon.”

But all Noam heard was “next time.” Next time, the last time.

“You’d better start packin’,” Hersh said. “We gotta split.”

“Where are we going?”

Hersh gave him a pat on the back. “Not to worry, Nick-O.” He winked. “I got it all worked out.”

23

The jarring ring of the telephone jolted Decker awake. Hand flailing out to pick up the receiver, he answered the call “Decker” from force of habit.

“Akiva?”

Akiva? Decker thought. Static on the line. The voice feminine and nervous. Someone from New York. The boys? Dear God, don’t do this to me.

“Yes, this is he. Who am I talking to?”

“Who is it?” Rina asked.

Rina. He’d forgotten about her. Reminded himself to speak more softly.

The voice said, “This is Miriam Berkowitz. Noam’s aunt?”

“Is everything okay?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“What is it, Peter?” Rina asked.

He waved her quiet. “Are you calling about Noam?”

“Yes, I—”

“Wait,” Decker interrupted. “Then my boys are okay?”

Rina gasped. “What?”

“Your boys?” A momentary pause. “Oh, you mean Rina’s…They’re fine. Oh, my goodness, I must have frightened you. I’m so sorry.”

“No problem,” Decker said. “Give me a second to talk to Rina.” He covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Miriam Berkowitz. Noam’s aunt. It’s about Noam. The boys are fine.”

“Boruch Hashem,” Rina whispered. She covered her mouth and exhaled, tried to slow her breathing. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just collapse.”