Accidental Mobster (22 page)

However, Tony quickly brings me back to the moment. “So it's either my family or this undercover guy? Just tell them who the undercover is and be done with it.”

“Tony! Are you serious? You'd let another innocent person die?” Portia is livid.

“Over my family? You better believe it!” he shoots back. I've never heard Tony raise his voice to her. He certainly cares deeply for his family.

“Tony, I'm not giving up the name of the undercover. Besides, that's not the only thing they want. They also demanded that I steal your laptop.”

Both Portia and Tony look confused. “My laptop?” Tony asks doubtfully. “What's going on here, Danny? Are you jerking us around or something? I know you're not the most honest guy.”

I know I deserve that comment, but I try to ignore it. “They want to hack into your system. You're hurting their business, Tony. They want your computer, and they want you gone.”

Tony glances anxiously at Portia, then back at me. “That's impossible. I'm just a teenager.”

“Well, you're keeping them from making money. That's an offense people get killed for when it comes to the Mafia.”

“Why tell us?” Tony asks. “Why not go to the police?”

I sigh. “If I go to the police, they'll still go after your family.”

Portia studies me. “But how did the mob find out about
you
if you were discovered by an undercover? How do they know you know who the undercover is?”

“Tommy Gallo.”

“Tommy?” Tony asks doubtfully.

“Stupid kid steals my wallet and finds a business card leading to a detective.”

“But how do they know that's not for something else?”

I bite my lip. I can't tell them I'm staying with an important mob leader, which makes my having a policeman's card a crime against the Newcastle Mafia. “Apparently an assistant district attorney—not a good one—found out about me,” I answer truthfully. Portia and Tony sit quietly, as though unable to take in everything I have shared. I can't blame them—I myself barely believe everything I have experienced over the last month. But I desperately need their trust now because they are all I have. After a long silence, Tony sighs in frustration and looks directly into my eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

Portia nods. “Yeah, Danny, how can we help you?”

I glance between the two, relieved to have them on my side. “It's going to be a lot of work, but I think we can get these guys to hang themselves.”

* * * *

Baxter is asleep on the bed as I begin to pack the items I have casually collected over the course of the evening. I place a flashlight, a notepad, and a kitchen knife in my backpack and stuff my cell phone in my pocket. I don't really know what I need beside an extra dose of courage. I'm beyond nervous. What we are doing tonight could cost us our lives. But I don't see any other option. Frank has offered me a way out, but I can't just run away. Tony and Portia are going to meet me down the street with a van Portia is “borrowing”

from her dad's lot. I'm surprised she would do anything that could get her in trouble, but she is committed to our plan and has promised to do anything to help. Tony, with just a learner's permit, is doing the driving, a risk we agreed had to be taken. Am I putting them both in danger for Gino's sake? I know that would be wrong. But if I simply go to the police, I have no guarantee that the mob won't hurt the Chens. This plan may be the only way to protect them.

Gino left earlier this evening, and I'm worried my godfather will be at the meeting tonight. But if everything goes as planned, I will get Capriotti and Ray on tape and in a picture together. Tony has a technically flawless strategy that will allow me to protect Gino even as I gain evidence to put Capriotti, Kluwer, and Ray in the hands of the FBI. The clock next to my bed reads eight-thirty p.m., and I know I need to get down to the corner. The house is strangely quiet as I leave, but I think Ronnie and Julia have gone out and Vince is upstairs, as always, playing video games at the expense of his homework. I creep through the back door and down the driveway. I figure my black garb will keep me concealed from any curious neighbors. I can see the van next to the curb just several houses down, and I speed up as soon as I reach the street. As I come closer to the vehicle, I see Tony sitting in the driver's seat, his face tight with anxiety.

I open the passenger side door. “You ready? Where's Portia?”

Tony shakes his head and motions to the backseat. At that moment, the sliding door of the van opens, and I'm face to face with two unwelcome visitors: Vince and Julia. I groan. Will nothing go right for me?

“Well, well. Here I am, driving back from the gas station with my little sister, when all of a sudden I see a very interesting sight. Nerd boy and Prissy Saviano are sitting in a van just down the street from my house. Didn't you think that was odd, Julia?” Vince asks, his sarcasm unmistakable.

“Why, yes, I did!” Julia exclaims, her voice innocently surprised. I notice Portia sitting in the back seat, her arms across her chest and her face like stone.

“You're a sneaky little bastard, Danny. I've helped you over and over again, and Julia has too,” Vince says, motioning to his smug sister. “And what do you do? You go behind my back and recruit these psychos for whatever little espionage you've got planned.”

Julia crinkles her nose. “Do you smell that stench? I think it's rotten cheese. There's a rat around here—three of them!”

The two Vigliotti siblings glare at me, no hint of family affection showing on their angry faces. I know Portia and Tony have no idea what is going on, but I can't worry about keeping them out of the loop any longer. I'm going to be completely honest—with everyone. “Okay, you got me. I'm stuck. Either Tony's family will be murdered and I'll be kicked out on the streets or worse, or I'll be taken away and your father put in prison. Those are my choices.”

Everyone is stunned. Julia is the first to break the shocked silence. “So which one are you going with—let me guess, since the nerdy one is sitting in this car, I'm guessing you're squealing and leaving,” Julia snaps.

I shake my head. “No, I'm picking option three. I'm taking down Ray Gallo and saving your dad and the Chens at the same time.”

“Wait a minute—how's your dad involved with this?” Tony asks Vince, his voice edged with suspicion.

Vince moves in quickly and grabs Tony by the neck. “None of your business, egghead.”

“Oh, for God's sake, just knock it off!” I say, physically removing Vince from Tony. Tony glares at me. “I'm not helping you if Gino was involved in hurting my dad!”

“Gino's trying to protect your dad!” I say, almost shouting in aggravation.

“No, he's right, Danny,” says Portia. “I'm not helping you if you're trying to protect a mobster!” She looks at Julia. “I can't believe your dad's in the mob!”

My anger gets the best of me. I'm tired of Portia's righteous indignation, even though she doesn't know any better. I'm about to change that.

“You want the truth, Portia? I only hid it from you because I didn't want you to get hurt. But just so I won't be the liar you hate so much, here it is! Your dad's a mobster just like Gino!
Just like Gino!”
I repeat.

Portia sits back as though slapped. “You're lying. That's ridiculous!” Yet her face contradicts her. She looks like she has been caught doing something wrong.

“You already guessed that, didn't you?” I say, surprised.

Portia buries her head in her arms.

Julia glares at her coldly. “Oh, please! Get over it! You can't wear your little halo forever.”

Everyone is angry and confused, but I don't have time to play peacemaker—or therapist for that matter. Hurt feelings can be sorted out later. I have too much to accomplish, and my window of opportunity is getting smaller by the moment.

“Fine. Guess what? Now you get to help me, too,” I say to the Vigliotti siblings. “Tony, let's go. I'll bring these guys up to speed.”

I smooth my button-up shirt for the fifth time, realizing that the motion is my nerves getting the better of me. I tried to dress a little more grown-up tonight in a black shirt with my blue jeans. The last thing I want is to feel like a kid when I need every ounce of nerve I can muster.

The Vigliotti siblings and I are standing in the shadows of the dusty parking lot behind the diner. Julia shifts uneasily beside me, and Vince is hopelessly in motion, swaying from side to side in a frantic manner that I know won't stop until we're inside the diner. But for the moment, we are captives of Tony's lecture about hidden wireless transmitters.

“This is a wireless headpiece that will transmit back to me in the van,” he says, holding up a tiny earpiece. “I'm glad Julia is going with you guys. She can wear this and no one will see it because of her hair.”

“I'm not letting my hair out of this ponytail,” Julia replies. “I don't do ‘dent head.'”

Vince rolls his eyes and pushes his sister roughly.

“Hey!” she snaps, then covers her mouth. Even she knows she was too loud.

“Just do what he says!” Vince orders, the strain in his voice unmistakable.

“Hey, Vince, are you sure you can do this?” I ask doubtfully, knowing that any slipups on our part might mean the end for all of us.

“Yes—but let's get on with it!” Vince replies, continuing his anxious sway. Julia reluctantly lets down her hair and puts the earpiece behind the waves framing her worried face. “It's too big. It might fall off.”

“As long as you don't start prancing around like usual, you'll be fine,” Tony says sharply, getting a giggle out of Portia in the process.

Julia glares sourly at them both.

Tony hands a phone to me. “When they ask you for the name, tell them you'll give them the address and say it's in the phone. Take pictures while they are concentrating on the address you're telling them. The sound on the phone is off, so it shouldn't clue them in to what you are doing. Then you'll give them this computer—okay?” He hands me a laptop. I'm impressed with Tony's calmness when we are in so much danger. “Where'd you get this?”

“Just one of the old ones we've got sitting around.”

“Man, I hate to give this up,” I joke, knowing that one thing I'd still love to have is my own computer.

Tony's doesn't laugh. “If you help catch the men who beat up my dad, I'll get you one that's even better,” he says in a moment of pure generosity.

I immediately feel guilty and shake my head. “You don't have to do that. I just want things to go right so everyone is safe.”

“Then for God's sake let's go!” Vince urges.

“Wait a minute. What am
I
doing?” Portia asks, her arms folded across her stomach. She has barely spoken a word since I named her dad as a mobster.

“You're the lookout,” Tony answers.

“Like hell I am!” she snaps, somehow able to glare at everyone at once.

“Yes, you are,” Tony says. “You agreed to follow my plan, Portia. Now, start doing your job! Who's in the parking lot? You know the cars.”

Portia frowns for a few seconds, then she sighs, and with little enthusiasm, starts identifying cars. “Ray is here. Donny is here. Lou and Johnny are here. Gino is here—”

“What?” Vince cut in. “My dad's not here.”

“Yes, he is,” Portia said. “My dad sold him a black pickup last month. You've just probably never seen it before because he keeps it at the car lot.”

I glare at her because I'm upset that she has been holding me to such a high standard when she's obviously been living a double life herself. Then I feel my courage draining at the thought of confronting the mobsters with Gino in the mix. “That's going to make this much more difficult.”

“It makes things better,” Portia asserts. “No one will hurt Gino's kids or godson while he's there.”

“Or he might get hurt because of us,” Julia adds, her anxiety evident in the way she is now wringing her hands.

“I told you, Tony, I'm not implicating Gino!” I warn.

“You won't need to. Julia can stay close to Ray and Capriotti, and you need to take pictures only of them,” Tony says.

I study him, wondering whether he will find a way to implicate Gino anyway because he was involved in hurting his father, but I don't have time to worry about that now.

“Okay, Portia, keep going,” I say.

“So, Gino is there,” she continues quietly. “The beamer is most likely Capriotti's. Oh yeah, and that young guy—Frank.”

I try to keep any expression from my face as Portia unknowingly mentions the FBI agent. I can't tell any of them who the agent is—that would only present more danger. But I don't know what Frank will do when he sees me and the Vigliottis in the diner. I hope he will let us execute our plan to gather evidence on both the district attorney and Ray and then get out.

I survey this group of teenagers—people I didn't even know two months ago. Now my life is in their hands. And in this moment, I feel I'm ready to face anything. “Let's go.”

* * * *

“What the hell is going on? Who let these kids in here?”

Ray Gallo's face is beaming a bright red. He stares at us, three teens who walked into the diner, unannounced, and who are, by the furious expression on his face, definitely unwelcome.

The diner door had been locked when the Vigliottis and I had tried to open it. When we settled for knocking instead, an enormous wiseguy answered, taking all three of us in with a cool glare. I had quickly identified us as “Gino's kids,” which kept the man from beating us up right there on the doorstep. He had paused for a moment thoughtfully, and then as recognition had crossed his face (at least when he looked at Vince), he had stepped back and let us past. Based on Ray's expression, that decision was almost certainly one the wiseguy would soon regret.