Page 105 of The Furies

“Sure I do.”

“Then why are we still talking about this?”

Pirato brushed some grains of sugar from the table into an open palm, and set them in his saucer.

“Tell him,” he said to Luca Z.

Luca Z knew when he was beaten. There might have been some small hope for him after all.

“Their names are Lyle Pantuff and Gilman Veale,” he said. “Pantuff is older, and he’s the one who likes hurting women. He’s the talker. Veale is younger and quieter. I don’t think he’s particular about who he hurts.”

“How did you find them?” I said.

“I asked around. They came recommended.”

I didn’t care to consider how one might go about finding someone who specialized in torturing women, or a go-between who might be in a position to offer suggestions, and how they might know this in the first place. Life was already bleak enough.

“How did you get in touch with them?”

“They contacted me, after I put the word out. I got a call, and we met at a bar in Somerville. I went through what had to be done, told them where to take the woman, and they pulled her from her home the next day.”

“So you have a number?”

“Not anymore. They don’t like leaving a trail. They only occasionally work for hire. They’re self-starters, pulling down small scores.”

“Scavengers,” said Pirato.

Luca Z shrugged.

“How long have they been working together?” I said.

“A couple of years, I think.”

“Are they shooters?”

“Not if they can avoid it, but they’re not above killing, Veale especially. The guy I worked through, he knew of a couple of bodies, and was willing to bet on more.”

“Who is he,” I said, “this mysterious figure who knows about bodies?”

“No,” said Luca Z. He shook his head, and sought support from his elders. “It’s one thing giving up Pantuff and Veale, but another to make trouble for one of our friends.”

“You haven’t given me anything but two names,” I said, “and they’re no good to me unless I can lay hands on the men who use them.”

“But Luca is right,” said Pirato. “There are limits here.”

“We could get word to them,” offered Dante Vero, “order them to hand over the stuff they took and walk away.”

“Perhaps you could ask them to make a donation to charity as well,” said Louis.

“Or they could write a note to say they’re sorry,” said Angel, from by the door, “and throw in a gift card from Macy’s to make up for the trouble they’ve caused.”

Vero raised an eyebrow and smothered a smile.

“Those men don’t work for you,” I said to him. “They have no obligations to you or your organization. According to the mastermind here, he can’t even get them on the phone without bringing in an adult to help dial the number.”

“Don’t fucking talk about me that way,” said Luca Z, but he spoke too loudly. There was no substance to it, only bluster. Everyone knew it, even Luca Z himself.

“What I’m saying,” I continued, “is that I don’t trust these thieves to do the right thing, or even the smart one, if they’re contacted by you or an intermediary. Neither do I trust any of your people to enforce a penalty on them if they renege on a deal, and by then it will be too late because they’ll have dumped or destroyed this woman’s possessions.”

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