“Let me think, we got a big family,” Drilon said. So Burim didn’t know—that was to his advantage. And perhaps it wasn’t her at all. But Drilon feared it was the girl—whose mother he murdered, a secret he’d managed to keep all this time. But if Aleksander Buda was asking about her, she probably was halfway in the ground already. Drilon could see no reason to rock the boat. There surely couldn’t be anything connecting him to the girl. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the name.”

“You certain about that, Drilon? You took long enough thinking about it.”

“You know me, boss, I’m not the brightest guy. Like I said, we got a real big family, but mostly back in the old country.”

“So I’ve heard,” Ristani said conversationally.

“That’s right, boss.”

“What’s your family name?” Buda said. The expression on his face had changed not at all the whole time.

“Graziani,” Drilon said. It had been Burim’s idea to drop Grazdani after the Rudaj crew had been broken up and many of its members sent to jail. Graziani was the name Burim came up with when he asked Ristani for work years back. It was the surname of one of his favorite Italian soccer players, and he always liked the fact that it was close to his name too, off by only a single letter.

“It’s close but different. Italian instead of Albanian,” Berti said. “Close but no cigar. Thank you, Drilon.”

Drilon left the room. He was sweating and the color had faded from his face. He wanted to hide as far away from Buda as possible until the man left.

“Anyone else you need to ask?” Buda said.

“No, I know all the other guys’ families and have never heard of a Grazdani.”

The men hugged briefly, Buda having difficulty getting his arms around Berti.

“Let’s not be strangers,” Berti said, waving.

Buda got in his car, but before he drove away, he called Fatos Toptani, his most trusted man back in the Bronx. In the Buda organization, Fatos was number two.

“It’s me. I need to get hold of someone right now. Name is Burim Graziani, one of Ristani’s crew. He’s working down in South Jersey.... No, no, nothing heavy, I just need to ask him a question. Yeah . . . Something ain’t right here.”

From his office, Ristani waited a couple of minutes till he thought Buda had left the premises, then made a phone call of his own.

Chapter 57.

57.

GREEN POND, NEW JERSEY
MARCH 25, 2011, 8:52 P.M.