14

Konni walked out of his matka’s place at half-past ten, and after riding the Q back into Manhattan, he stopped at the sandwich shop near his apartment.

Sash knew his routine after months of cohabitation, and the young man working at the sub shop knew Sash well enough to hand over the order when Sash asked for it. Outside, the urine-scented woman on the sidewalk flashed a toothless grin, thanking him for the wrapped sandwich.

“He ordered a small turkey sub and some chips,” said Sash, catching the Maserati in his side mirror. Behind its blackened glass sat Tadeusz and Radek.

“Good,” Cyril said from the passenger seat, paging through his Tiger Beat magazine. “He’s alone,”

Sash glanced at Niko in the rearview.

“Did he say anything about my shit?”

The long-haired thug shook his head.

“Just that Sam-sam and Andrej cleared the place out,”

“If Sam-Sam found guns and cash,” said Cyril in English, “He not be here anymore.”

Sash agreed, his mind racing as he drove them down Astor.

“This boy, Jonathan Brandis.” Cyril held up the open magazine. “He’s beautiful,”

“If you like skinny blondes,” said Sash.

Cyril hummed. “This boy reminds me of Andrej,”

Sash checked Niko in the mirror and found him disinterested. Cyril also noticed and gave Sash a look. Niko had found another ass to drill, not that anyone could blame him, considering Andrej’s sexual embargo.

Boxy lights edged in the rearview as Radek joined him in parking across the street from Saint Marks. Two windows glowed upon its brick face, and Sash wondered if Andrej was sleeping on his satin sheets because Sam-Sam wasn’t balling Radek on them.

They got out of the cars and followed Cyril through an alley. The police had left the building, and a new door stood where they’d kicked in the old one.

“We gotta hurry,” Niko said on the elevator. “I got Andrej waiting.”

“For what?” Tadeusz teased. “Another night of him saying you can’t fuck his ass,”

Soft laughter filled the small space.

“He didn’t want to fuck with you three in the room,” Niko said.

“That was weeks ago,” said Tadeusz. “How have you not popped yet?”

“What if only me in the room?” Cyril asked in broken English.

“You’re in the shithouse,” Niko smirked. “You upset Dmitri,”

Sash turned his head. “Boscov?”

“Dimi works with Andrej at the Tea Room,” Cyril mumbled.

Sash frowned. “How can a city this big be so small?”

The five strolled down the hall, muted televisions their soundtrack as they approached Konni’s front door. Tadeusz knocked as Nikola pressed his thumb to the peephole. From inside, Konni’s voice asked who it was, and Tadeusz donned a Latino accent and claimed to have his sandwich.

The door opened an inch, and they pushed their way inside. Each took an arm and dragged the wiry man to the floor as Radek swooped in and sat on his legs.

Sash shoved a rubber ball into Konni’s mouth before he could scream, and frightened eyes begged while Cyril covered them with gray duct tape. Tadeusz turned him over as Niko brought out a child’s jumping rope they’d bought at a nearby drugstore.

Once Konni’s hands were tied behind his back, Radek hoisted him onto his shoulder and carried him out the door.

Sash entered the darkened bedroom and felt around under the bed.

“Is it there?” Cyril asked in the doorway.

Sash shook his head.

“Would he even know where to sell it?” asked Cyril.

“I’ll check the pawn shops,” said Sash.

In the hall, Sash slipped past Tadeusz and Cyril to get out in front. Each closed door they passed threatened a witness, and relief found him when they reached the elevator without interruption. Sash hated shooting people whose only sin was seeing his face.

Downstairs, he pulled the Explorer into the parking garage to collect them, risking further witnesses. After tossing Konni into the back, Sash drove out onto the street with Tadeusz beside him up front and Nikola again in the back. Radek and Cyril in the Maserati caught up when they entered the Battery Tunnel.

South along Fort Hamilton Parkway, Sash exited at Gravesend and veered onto 65th street, where burned-out buildings, abandoned stores, and salvaged gas stations sang of better times. Signs of life appeared on 85th, none of it breathing this time of night.

Both cars sped down a dirt road, the city across the channel casting tiny squares upon the still water. A semi-abandoned construction site appeared in flashes within the headlights, the pitch darkness taking hold when their engines died.

Sash lit a cigar as Radek and Tadeusz dragged the groaning Konni out. Cyril led Niko to a standing cement mixer, where the silent Ukrainian grabbed the pouring tray and swung it over the well. Radek then hoisted Konni up and deposited him in the squarish hole. Tadeusz reached in and ripped the tape from his eyes.

“Hullo,” Sash sang, making his men smile. “You’ve been a talkative boy these days, Konrad.”

Tadeusz then yanked the tape from his mouth and pressed his fingers into Konni’s cheeks, dislodging the ball without getting bitten.

“I’ve said nothing,” he screamed, drooling on his chin.

Sash knelt. “Did you fuck us over to the Federals?”

Konni took inventory of the men surrounding him.

“Listen to me, Sash,” he pleaded. “They let me go because the charges didn’t stick. I know how that must look, but you got to believe me. I didn’t fuck you over. I wouldn’t fuck my brother, Miro, over. Please, believe me,”

“I would very much like to,” Sash said, standing.

“Glass-Eye, please,” Konni begged, his hot breath smelling of beer.

Tadeusz waited for Cyril’s nod and then walked to the cement mixer. Niko swung the pouring arm again, cracking Konni’s head with it.

“Please,” Konni cried as he struggled to regain his knees. “I said nothing,”

Radek ripped open a bag of mix and poured the gravelly powder into the cipher. Cyril joined him with a running hose, filling the twirling hopper with water.

“They’re expecting me soon,” Konni yelled, tears lining his cheeks. “They’re meeting me tonight,”

Embers from Sash’s cigar floated on the wind, each glowing fleck dying in the dirt before reaching the foxtails. He brought up his arm and read his watch. “That’s not a date you’re going to make, Konni.”

Tadeusz pulled the lever, sending thick porridge into the well. Konni struggled to crawl away as gray sludge flooded in around him, a thick soup that enveloped his head as his cries turned to muted coughs.

No one saw him drown. Sash’s cigar wasn’t bright enough.

Several moments passed before Niko swung the pouring arm out, and the noisy glugging stopped. They shared a bottle of vodka as the unholy mold set. Satisfied the deed was done, Sash stubbed his cigar out on his shoe.

Tadeusz drove the Maserati back to Manhattan and went clubbing with a friend. Radek collected Samil and took him home; the boy’s mother asked if he’d seen Konrad, and Radek told her no before fucking her son in the shower.

Cyril returned to the place and fell asleep while Niko sought out Andrej but instead found Dmitri Boscov.

Sash drove to Atlantic City, where a job awaited him.