Page 103 of Lion & Lamb

“ANYWAY, SO,yeah, I was listening in the whole time. Bernstein is full of crap.”

They were driving south on I-95, headed toward Center City. Cooper dodged rush-hour traffic as Victor crouched in the passenger seat with a laptop on his knees. He was still hacking as he maintained his end of the conversation.

“What specifically was crap?” Cooper asked.

“Pretty much everything that wasn’t self-serving,” Victor replied. “But what was most interesting were the things he left out.”

“Such as?”

“His other two jobs, aside from the Philly PD.”

“Two jobs, huh? Well, we already know one of them. He works for the Sables.”

“Yep. And I found a digital trail leading from the Eagles’ head office to Bernstein’s secret bank accounts. He’s been working for them for three years now.”

“Doing what, though?”

“It’s not like there’s a memo line on the checks that saysFixeror anything. But the amounts vary, so I’m guessing that’s what he is. If the Sables have any problems, then Bernstein is there to take care of them.”

“Who’s the other employer?”

“This was a little trickier, because the amounts deposited were more infrequent, and I had a hard time tracing them. At first.”

“And…”

Victor was silent except for the clacking his fingers made on the laptop keys. Cooper didn’t push him. The man was doing his research in real time.

“Okay, this isn’t locked down as tight. But as I’m reading through some older clips about Bernstein’s father, I’m starting to figure out the connections.”

“Victor, what are you talking about?”

“The Mob.”

“Philly or Atlantic City?”

“Boil it down and it’s all the same Mob, has been since the 1920s. One big screwed-up family, and the Bernsteins have been their silent fixers going back decades. Mickey is just following in his father’s footsteps. And his grandfather’s, for that matter. Mickey’s grandfather used to run errands for Joe Ida and Angelo Bruno.”

Cooper watched the skyscrapers of Center City slide into view. Old knockaround guys like Ida and Bruno wouldn’t recognize Philly anymore. Their sons and grandsons had transformed it—with the help of the police and the politicians they kept in their pocket. It wasn’t new corruption; it was the same corruption with a twenty-first-century sheen.

“Hold on,” Victor said suddenly. “Pull over.”

“What—right here on I-95? Are you crazy?”

“Boss, pull over! Now!”

Chapter110

SOMEHOW, COOPER LAMBdefied space and time (and the morning rush hour) to force his way onto the highway’s shoulder. Which wasn’t much of a shoulder. Officials had been rebuilding I-95 almost since they’d first slammed it through the river wards back in the 1970s, and now they were expanding it by another two lanes. Construction gear and debris littered the side of the road. It was a miracle Cooper hadn’t crashed into an asphalt spreader.

“I hope this is worth almost dying for,” Cooper said.

“Oh, it’s worth it,” Victor told him.

“What is it?”

“A page of high-end escorts.”

“If you’re lonely, Victor, I recommend a Dungeons and Dragons club or some other nerd-friendly gathering.”

---