Accidental Mobster (14 page)

However, I never make it to class. Just as I turn the corner, Portia rushes out of the classroom and starts down the hall in the opposite direction.

“Portia!” I call.

She stops and turns. “I thought you were going to the nurse's office.”

“I was, but I got lost,” I reply, thinking I have lied so much at this point, what is one more?

Portia doesn't acknowledge my excuse. “It's Tony, Danny. Something terrible happened. The principal came to get him. I don't know what's wrong!”

I stay silent, not able to tell her that something has probably happened to Tony's dad. Portia waits for me to catch up to her. “I told Ms Lowe I needed to go to the bathroom. I can't sit there and not know!” she says.

I nod. “I understand. Let's go the principal's office and see if we can find anything out.”

We start down the hall in silence. Portia is chewing on her lip, and I can't think of anything to say that will make her less anxious. She stops suddenly and turns to me. “Do you think something happened to his dad?”

I try not to let my face tell her what I really think. I put my hand on her shoulder and look into her eyes. “Maybe,” I say. “But don't get too upset until you know exactly what's going on.”

She nods, and we continue down the hall. I try not to be overwhelmed by my exhaustion. Between my late night activities and my fear about Tony's dad, I feel terrible. When we reach the principal's office, we peer through the blinds covering the window. The secretary is sitting at the front desk, and no one else is in sight. I motion to Portia, and we go into the office.

“May I help you?” the secretary asks coolly. “Why aren't you two in class?”

Portia steps up to her desk anxiously. “We're looking for Tony Chen. I'm his best friend, and I want to know what happened to him!”

The secretary regards her suspiciously. “I'm not feeding school gossip. If he's your friend, he'll eventually tell you himself.”

Portia bursts into tears. “Please just tell me if everything's okay!”

The secretary is moved by Portia's sobbing. She heaves her heavy body out of her chair and around the desk, putting her arm around Portia's shoulders and guiding her to a chair.

“Hey, it's okay.” She glances at me. “She's really his friend?”

I nod. “They've been friends since they were little.”

“Everything's going to be okay,” she promises Portia, patting her back. “Tony's father was injured and hospitalized, but he's going to be okay.”

Portia pulls back from her, searching the secretary's face with wide eyes. “His dad?”

“Yes,” the secretary confirms. “But he'll be okay.”

Portia turns to me. “I've got to talk to him!”

“Tony needs to concentrate on his dad right now,” I say, relieved that Mr. Chen is alive.

“We'll talk to him as soon as we can.”

Portia stands up. “You're right. But I need to call my parents to tell them.”

The secretary points to her desk. “You can use my phone. What's your name?”

“Portia. Portia Saviano.” She walks to the desk and picks up the phone, turning her back to me and the secretary, whose attention turns quickly to me.

“And you are?”

“Danny Higgins.”

Her face lights up with recognition. “Danny Higgins? I just got a phone call about you!”

I freeze, wondering what part of my recent activities has finally caught up with me.

“Your brother called. He said that he has your lunch, and that he would meet you in front of the school. But I thought you were staying with the Vigliottis?”

I'm glad Portia is still on the phone with her parents. “I
am
staying with the Vigliottis,” I reply, not sure what else to say. News certainly travels fast around the school.

“Do you have a brother?”

I think quickly about whether I should answer yes or no. I find that I'm curious, but also a little hesitant of claiming a brother. “Yes,” I answer finally. “Sometimes he brings me lunch. He's older, but we're trying to get closer.”

The secretary nods knowingly. “That's great. Family is the most important thing. Well, he may be out there now.”

“Okay.” I head for the door, waving to Portia, who is deep in conversation. I hear the secretary call to me one more time as I exit the office.

“You're from Boston, right? Have you really hung out with Ben Affleck?”

I let the door close as I roll my eyes with my back turned to her. I walk out the front door of the school, my curiosity and my dread growing. I'm wondering whether I'm about to be kidnapped by the mob. Should I go back inside the school?

I stand on the curb and glance around the front parking lot, spotting a silver BMW

parked alongside the curb, the engine running. As I move toward the vehicle, I'm unable to recognize the driver because of the sun's harsh glare on the dark windshield. I step up to the passenger side and lean forward as the tinted window rolls down. Sitting in the front seat is Frank Moretti, and he does not look happy.

“Get in,” Frank says.

I hesitate. On the one hand, I'm standing in front of a mobster—one who knows that I saw some extremely incriminating activities last night. This is also the guy I watched beat Iggy. On the other hand, Frank protected me from Gino, hiding me when he could have easily exposed me, and he kept Gino from harming Iggy too. At this point, I don't have much to lose either way. If I don't get into Frank's car now, Frank might tell Gino about my spying, and that could make the situation much worse. If the mob finds out that I've been watching them, my life is over anyway, sooner or later.

I open the door of the car and settle down gingerly on the black leather seat, which is hot from the August sun. I stare straight ahead, too nervous to look Frank in the face, and wondering whether I will make it out of this car alive. I had hoped we would chat in the school parking lot, but Frank quickly shifts the car into drive and leaves the school. My palms sweat as I feel my life is probably over.

“Where are we going?” I ask, strangely accepting my fate. I have never thought about my own death before. Fifteen seems like a very young age to die, but I don't know if I'm scared or sad. No matter what, I know I'll fight—I'm not going down without one. Then again, am I not the kid who just got into a mobster's car willingly? Maybe I deserve to die for sheer stupidity. I should never have climbed into this death trap.

“I'm taking you somewhere we can talk,” Frank replies, his face expressionless.

“What do we need to talk about?” I ask, even though the answer is obvious.

“I believe you were somewhere you shouldn't have been last night. How did you find out about the diner, Danny?”

I stare at him, wondering what I should say. “It was by accident,” I answer.
A very, very
unfortunate accident.

“No one told you the diner is a meeting place?” Frank asks sharply. I shake my head. No one
told
me
anything. I'm trying to figure out where Frank is taking me.

Frank seems to sense my nervousness. “It's okay, Danny.”

“What's going to happen to me?” I ask, dreading the answer.

Frank chuckles. “I'm not going to kill you. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not even going to hurt you.”

“I'm not afraid,” I say, making an attempt to sound calm. I don't know whether to believe him.

Frank laughs in reply. “You're a pretty gutsy guy!” He starts to reach inside his jacket pocket, and I lean away, wondering if I can leap from the car if Frank pulls out a gun. But Frank brings out a leather wallet instead, and I relax slightly. Maybe Frank is going to try to pay me off. What should I do in that case? I don't want Frank to be suspicious that I will go to the cops, but I also can't take money in return for my silence. But instead of offering me cash, Frank hands me the entire wallet. “Look inside,” he directs.

I quickly open the thin bi-fold wallet and find myself looking at something I had not expected to ever see—FBI credentials. On the bottom fold is a picture of Frank Moretti, but on the top fold, the name underneath the “Federal Bureau of Investigation” is “Frank McCoy.” And underneath the name is the title “Special Agent.”

“You're not a mobster,” I say, focusing on the picture.

“No, I'm not.”

I study Frank closely. His hair is short and his face clean-shaven. Frank could pass for Italian, but he could certainly pass for an FBI agent too. His role as an agent makes his protection of me the night before easily explainable.

“What do you want with me?” I ask, my anxiety now replaced by curiosity.

“You're in real danger, Danny. You know what Gino does, but you're not part of his family. If he found out that you were there last night—”

“Gino wouldn't hurt me,” I interrupt.

Frank frowns, but he doesn't argue with me. We pull up in front of a large building with a sign that identifies it as the Newcastle police station. Frank gets out of the car, as do I, and all the while I am wondering what the agent plans to do. Frank motions for me to follow him, and we climb the large cement stairs and enter through the glass doors. The lobby is large and filled with people, mostly police officers. Frank leads me to the elevators, which we ride to the third floor. Once off the elevator, we walk to the end of a long hallway. I notice that the door to our right reads “Chief of Police” on it, and just as Frank opens the door on the left side of the hallway, the door on the right begins to open. Whatever Frank sees makes him push me through the half-open door on the opposite side, hiding us both from whoever is exiting the Chief's office.

“Thanks, Chief!” says a loud, hearty voice. “Please keep me posted!”

The door is cracked, so I can hear but not see what is happening on the other side of it.

“You got it, Mark, I'll let you know,” says another voice, muffled by the door that is shutting.

“Mark, do you think he'll be able to find out?” a strident voice says, making me recoil in disgust. It belongs to Barb Kluwer, the DA's assistant. Frank keeps the door almost shut, but he is obviously listening to the conversation going on in the hall.

“Don't call me Mark around here,” Mark says. “When we're in this building, you call me ‘Mister Capriotti,' Barb.”

My eyes widen, and Frank's hold on my arm tightens. He is clearly as interested in these two people as I am.

“Fine, but we should have talked more today about finding out who the undercover agent is!” she demands, her voice peeved.

Frank's face is angry as he waits for the two to move out of earshot, and then he takes my elbow and rushes me through a maze of cubicles to an office at the back.

“What was that all about?” I ask as Frank pushes me toward the office door. Frank holds a finger to his lips again. He opens the office door and we step inside. Seated behind an enormous oak desk is a middle-aged man with short, gray hair and a mustache. He glances up from a stack of papers as we enter.

“We've got to talk,” Frank says to the man as we enter. “Mark Capriotti is digging around the police department for information. He just came out of the Chief's office. And I've told you I must be warned if Capriotti is in the building! This is dangerous. If your guys can't communicate with me, it's the last time I'm coming here!”

“This is the kid?” the man asks, ignoring Frank's irritation and studying me, his blue eyes making me shift uncomfortably.

“This is Danny,” Frank answers, taking a deep breath. “Gino's godson.”

“He saw everything?”

“I'm not sure. Just when did you get to the diner last night, Danny?”

I consider the eager faces of both the men and decide that if any questions are going to be answered, mine are going to be answered first. “Before I tell you anything, I want to know what's going on. Frank, why are you helping Gino with mob stuff if you're an FBI agent?

And who is
this
guy? And why did you kidnap me from school?”

Frank steps back as though he has been slapped. “I didn't kidnap you! You came with me willingly. I can't ask permission—who would I ask? I'm trying to protect you!”

“From what?” I shoot back, hoping I have caught Frank off-guard enough to get him to tell me exactly what is going on.

“From the Newcastle Mafia,” the older man replies calmly.

“Danny, this is Detective Alvarez,” Frank explains, motioning to the man behind the desk. “He and I are working on a joint task-force that's infiltrating the mob here.”

Alvarez?
The name rings a bell, but my need for information is crowding any other thoughts. “But I saw you beat someone up, Frank.”

“What? When?” Frank demands.

Detective Alvarez smiles at me. “Agent McCoy does what he has to do to fit in. Otherwise he might be suspected as a UC.”

I glance at Frank. “UC?”

“Undercover, Danny,” Frank answers. “Unfortunately, you discovered me. You and someone else. Who was with you last night?”

I don't want to lie to him, but I've got to protect Reggie. “I saw you beat up Iggy,” I accuse, changing the subject.

“You were there that night too?”

I flinch, realizing I have given up more information than I was asked. Then I nod. “Like I said before, it was an accident. I was in the back of the Lexus when you guys took off.”

“Sometimes I have to do things to fit in,” Frank explains. “As long as I don't kill anyone, it's for the greater good. Iggy got much less of a beating because I gave it to him. If a real mobster had beaten him, he might be in a coma—or worse.”

“But you didn't do anything to help Chen!” I say, hearing the fury in my voice.

“We're so close to putting an end to the whole operation, Danny. I've been working on this for years! Chen knows the risks, and he's helping me anyway. I stepped in when I thought he couldn't handle any more. But even so, I took a chance of compromising the case. I look at it this way—if I had tried to help Chen, I wouldn't be able to stop more men like him from getting beat up in the future. I must maintain my identity and then do what I can to lessen the violence. “