The Rampage of Ryan O'Hara (16 page)

Finnegan was looking over receipts with the day-shift bartender. “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Finnegan said, acknowledging Ryan.

Ryan nodded and glanced around the room, making a mental note of the layout and looking at the pictures on the walls. Yep, he was in the right place all right. Now all he needed to do was decide how he was going to carry out his plan. Would he do it at the bar or at the scumbag’s house? What method would he use? “We shall see,” he thought as Finnegan approached.

“What’ll it be?” he asked.

“Guinness,” Ryan replied.

“Haven’t seen you in here before. You new in the neighborhood?” Finnegan asked as he placed the drink in front of him.

“Visiting my sister. She lives a few blocks from here. She’s an associate professor at Columbia,” Ryan lied.

“You don’t say. I went to Columbia back in the late sixties,” Finnegan said, waiting for a reaction.

“Good college,” Ryan acknowledged. “A little above my scholastic level, though. Never much cared for school.”

“What line of work you in?” Finnegan asked.

“Oh, man, you name it. I’ve done just about everything,” replied Ryan. “Mainly construction, but I’ve also driven long-haul trucks, been to sea, and roughnecked on oil rigs in the Gulf. I’m in between jobs now and thought I’d look around the area for a few weeks while I’m visiting Sis. Maybe I’ll find something up here and settle down near her. She’s all I have left in the way of family and I’d kind of like to get to know her kids.”

“Some of the regulars will be in later this afternoon, starting around four-thirty. You might be able to get some information about jobs from them. Most of them are in the trades. We don’t get too many of the Columbia or professional crowd in here. Strictly working class all the way,” offered Finnegan, who was beginning to relax and wonder if maybe his first instincts about Ryan may have been a little paranoid. He looked and sounded like a regular enough fellow and didn’t seem particularly interested in the photos on the wall or in learning anything about Finnegan’s college days. That information had been meant as bait, and evidently the fish weren’t biting.

Ryan nursed his Guinness and ordered a second one. He decided to hang around a while and see what kind of clientele Finnegan’s place attracted.

D
ahkwan Ghannam looked up from his porn magazine and asked, “Infidel, what bring you here to your brother Dahkwan?”

Louie Vitanza was a lowlife, but even he felt dirty and in need of a shower every time he visited Ramallah Liquors. If this dump weren’t such a good source of revenue in his fencing operation, he wouldn’t think of associating with these goat-fucking, subhuman camel-humpers. But they performed services that others wouldn’t, so here he was once again, just another piece of shit in this toilet they called a liquor store.

“I’s have a friend dat is in a little trouble, Dahkwan. He tinks someone’s afta him and he’s worried dey’s
gonna whack him. So’s he asked me ta fine someone ta follow him whereva he goes and see if dey’s can get da drop on dis cat. I thoughts dat maybe yous and Habib might want ta make a few bucks and do da tail. We can split da take tree ways. Should be an easy score wit minimal risk. Waddaya say?

“How much we get pay, friend?” asked Ghannam.

“We can discuss dat after yous talk ta yous cousin. If yous agree, I’ll call my fren and get a price we can agree to and we’ll takes it from dere,” Louie replied.

“HABIB! Come here,” yelled Ghannam.

Habib Maloof appeared from the back room and walked up to the counter. He looked at Louie and then over at his cousin. He didn’t like Louie and the feeling was mutual. “What you want now, infidel?” he asked Louie. “You got stuff to sell?”

“Not dis time, Habib. I’s got a job for yous if yous want it, but it’s gotta do wid followin’ someone who wants to off a fren a mine. I’s want yous ta take care of ’em. Don’t wants ta know da details. Just set it up, take da money, an’ get it on. Yous won’t meet my fren and he won’t knows who you is. Dat way no one can rat off anyone if da ting goes sour,” Louie replied.

“Five thousand, infidel,” Ghannam said.

“What?” Louie exclaimed.

“Five thousand dollar. Five thousand dollar for this kind of service,” replied Ghannam.

“Okay, I’ll calls my fren and see what he says,” replied Vitanza. Louie took out his cell phone and called Finnegan. He handed the phone to Ghannam. “He wants ta talk ta yous. Don’t worries. Jus’ ’cause yous talk wid ’em don’t mean he gonna knows who yous is.”

Ghannam listened as Finnegan filled him in about his past and then explained why he was concerned about being on the receiving end of a hit.

“Okay, my friend. You give Louie ten thousand dollar and we have deal… No, no. You give Louie ten thousand dollar or no deal. I get the cash, I go to work… Okay, okay, seven thousand, but if it turn into more than a tail, then ten thousand. You know what I mean, huh? Yeah, yeah, you give Louie money today and we start. Okay? Good. We don’t talk after this. Good-bye.” Ghannam gave the phone back to Vitanza.

“Yeah, I’lls be right ova. Have it ready,” Vitanza said as he ended the call.

“I thought yous said five thousand. What gives, Dahkwan?” Louie asked.

Ghannam stared at Louie and grinned. “You no need worry, my friend. He gladly pay. I listen to story and know he willing to pay anything to save his ass. You should be happy. That make more money for the three of us. Now go get it and bring it to Dahkwan and we start when you come back.”

Louie left and headed back into Manhattan for what was sizing up to be an easy payday.

R
yan watched the after-work crowd as they began arriving at Finnegan’s bar. Most of them appeared to be ordinary guys coming in to unwind, play a few games of pool, and have a couple of beers before heading home. One of them, however, didn’t fit the mold. The greasy little olive-skinned guy with the slicked-back hair and pencil-thin mustache, wearing a cheap, pink sport coat and tan slacks, looked like a pimp. Ryan wondered what he was talking so intently about with Finnegan at the other end of the bar.

Finnegan yelled across the room, “Hey, Gus, watch the bar for me for a few minutes. I got something I gotta do.”

“Yeah, sure. No sweat. I’ll just line ’em up on the house until you get back,” joked the stevedore.

Finnegan disappeared for about fifteen minutes. He went to the back with Louie and took the money from the safe.

“You’re sure I can count on these guys to cover my ass, right, Louie?”

“Sure I’m sure. Waddaya tink, I’s gonna hire some doofus off da street dat I don’t know nuttin’ about? Quit sweatin’ and let me handle dis. Yous in good hans.”

Ryan watched the two men come out of the back room and made eye contact with Vitanza as he passed by on his way to the door. Something wasn’t right about him and he had a bulge under his coat that hadn’t been there earlier. He wasn’t a working stiff, that’s for sure. But just what was this sleazeball’s major malfunction? Ryan wondered as he downed the rest of his Guinness and followed him out the door. It wasn’t so much that he suspected anything. It was just that he had a feeling about this creep, and when he got these types of vibes, he usually couldn’t resist the urge to follow up on them. It was an old habit and it had saved his bacon on more than one occasion.

Ryan followed Vitanza, who walked about a block before entering a beat-up, black Cadillac. He took note of the plate and then made his way back to his own car.

He was able to find a parking place up the street from Finnegan’s bar and watched the foot traffic in and out of the place. He went back inside at about eight o’clock and, just as he’d suspected, the place was almost empty.

“You’re back. I was wondering where you went,” Finnegan said.

“I got hungry so I went out for a bite to eat. Thought I’d come back and talk to some of the guys about jobs, but I see they’re all gone. Maybe tomorrow,” Ryan replied.

“Yeah, same time, same station. You can set your watch by the time they come in, but the place gets a little dull right about now. I stay open but sometimes I wonder why. I’ll probably close up a little early tonight if it doesn’t pick up.”

Ryan finished his drink. “Well, I guess I’ll call it a night myself and head over to Sis’s house. She should be home by now,” he said as he got up from the stool and left the bar. He figured he’d give it another night, maybe two, before he made his move. He wanted to make sure he was familiar with the habits of not only Finnegan but also his customers.

L
ouie Vitanza was back at Ramallah Liquors dividing up the cash with Ghannam and Maloof within a half hour of leaving Finnegan’s pub. He counted out $4,660 for the two Arabs and kept $2,340 for himself. “There yous go. Easy money. Nuttin’ to it,” he said.

Maloof looked over at Ghannam. “Does this infidel think he take same cut as us? We do work, we get more. You tell him, cousin.”

Ghannam waited for Vitanza to react.

The Italian’s face started to twitch. “Look heres, Habib, I’s gots da job for yous and yous wouldn’t even have da forty-six hundred if it wasn’t for me, so’s take it or leave it. It’s no sweat offa me. I’s can always find someone else ta do da job.”

The two Arabs stared at Vitanza.

“You keep five hundred dollar and give us rest,” Ghannam said.

“Yous fuckin’ crazy. I’s outta here. I’s should has known betta than ta try ta do business wid yous guys. Dealing wid yous unfair fencing practices is bad enough, but dis is even more than I’s can take. Fogettabout da deal. It’s ova with,” Vitanza yelled as he began to scrape the money off the table.

Louie Vitanza screamed as Maloof plunged a knife through his hand, laughing as he pinned it to the table. “Now we take it all, infidel,” he said. Ghannam reached over, pulled the knife out, and held it to Vitanza’s throat. Maloof scooped the bills into a bag and placed it on a shelf behind him.

“Now what we do with you?” Ghannam asked as he smirked at Vitanza. “I tell you what. We get extra three thousand dollar and we give you a thousand. You go see friend and tell him we do job when we get whole ten thousand, okay?”

Vitanza got up and held onto his hand, grimacing in pain. “What if he’s won’t come up wid da extra cash?”

“Then we keep money and he have no protection,” Maloof replied. “Now, you go get hand fix and bring money back and we go to work.”

W
hat the fuck do you mean, they want another three thousand bucks, Louie? We settled on seven thousand yesterday and tonight you come back here with this extortion scheme! Fuck them. They’re bluffing. I paid them and they damn well better come through,” Finnegan yelled.

“Does dis looks like dey’s bluffin’, Paddy? Does it?” Vitanza lifted his heavily bandaged hand to drive home his point. “Dey shoved a knife throughs my han’ jus’ for tryin’ ta take my fair share. Then dey threatens ta cuts me troat. No, dey ain’t bluffin’. Yous wants dem ta helps, den yous gotta pay da extra tree tousand.”

“I want to meet them then. If I’m gonna shell out more dough, I want to meet them face-to-face and see just who it is that’s ripping me off,” Finnegan replied.

“Okay, okay. I’lls see what I’s can do about gettin’ dem ova here ta meets wid yous,” Vitanza said, but stopped talking when he saw Ryan enter the pub.

Finnegan went to the other end of the bar and greeted Ryan, who ordered a Guinness. Then he returned to Vitanza.

“Who is dat cat, Paddy? I’s don’t recalls seein’ him in heah’s before. When he start comin’ aroun’?” Vitanza inquired in a whisper.

“He’s just a guy passing through. He’s visiting his sister. Says he’s looking for work and might stay on if he finds some,” Finnegan explained.

“Oh really, an’ yous don’t tink dat maybe he jus’ might be da guy yous goin ta all dis trouble for? What if he’s da cat dat’s comin’ to off ya? Ya don’t even knows him and you act like he’s just another guy from da neighborhood or somethin’.”

“He’s all right. I asked him a few questions and he answered them the way he should. Besides, even if I had suspicions, what am I supposed to do, go up and ask him if he’s here to whack me?” Finnegan asked.

“Yeah, wells maybe yous should.”

“Enough of this bullshit, Louie. Go in the back room and call your Arabs. Give them directions and tell them to get over here so we can talk. I don’t want to waste any more of my time wondering if my ass is going to be covered or not and I’m sure as hell not going to shell out any more money without meeting these clowns.”

Vitanza went into the back room and called Ghannam. After briefly rejecting the notion of meeting Finnegan, he agreed to come over with Maloof for a sit-down.

“Dey’s comin’ ova in about half an hour,” Vitanza said as he took his seat back at the bar.

“Good. Maybe then we can get this show on the road and move forward,” Finnegan replied.

“Yeah, and when deys come, I’s gonna tell dem ta take special note of yous new friend down dere at the otha end. He’s da only stranger I seen around dis joint in a long time and yous better watch him too,” Vitanza said.

“Sure, anything you say, genius,” thought Finnegan, who was wondering if he’d have been better off watching his own back than hiring a bunch of slime suckers to do it for him.

Ghannam and Maloof entered the bar about an hour after Vitanza’s phone call.

Vitanza motioned with his head and the two men came down to end of the bar to talk.

Ryan watched and thought, “One greasy little dago and two camel jockeys.” He could spot a Middle Easterner a mile away, even when they were trying to pass themselves off as Latinos or some other ethnic group. It was just something about their mannerisms, maybe the arrogance they couldn’t help displaying even when they were trying to be polite. Something was up, but what? he wondered. “This place is beginning to stink a bit,” he thought as the two Arabs disappeared into the back room with Finnegan.

Vitanza watched the bar until they returned. Then the three of them sat together and ordered a round of drinks. They continued to talk. Every so often, they’d glance over at Ryan, who wondered if he was the topic of their conversation.