Chapter 27: Spinning Thoughts
Ellen Edge was genuinely happy. Dominick could tell. His wife never complained when he was on assignment, but he knew it never thrilled her. He watched her from the dining-room table as she pulled a roast out of the oven. She was happy because tonight was a real occasion. Her husband was home for dinner for a change.
Operation Angel was turning out to be the longest undercover assignment Dominick had ever been on, nineteen months now, but Ellen knew very little about it. She had no idea who Liu Shifu was, and that was the way she wanted it. If she knew the details of her husband's work, she'd go out of her mind worrying about him. As it was, whenever one of his cases broke and she read about it in the newspaper, she'd nearly have a fit. She would never sit by a window in a restaurant with Dominick anymore because she was afraid some Mafia assassin would try to get back at Dominick for something he'd done to the mob.
Dominick watched her spear the steaming roast and put it on a serving platter. He'd known Ellen since high school, and he often said she was the one who kept him sane, but right now he was tempted to break their longtime understanding and tell her what was going on with the Shifu investigation. The strain was getting to him, and he really wanted to unload some of what he was feeling.
Ellen looked at him over her shoulder as she carved the roast. "Call the kids, Dom. Everything's ready."
Dominick stayed in his seat, clutching the glass of scotch in front of him. "Keri! Drew! Matt! Dinner's ready. C'mon, let's go."
Ellen rolled her eyes, but she didn't say anything. She knew her husband had a lot on his mind. Whenever Dominick took a glass of scotch out onto the deck, lit up a cigar, and stared out at the trees, she knew something was bothering him, something about work. Lately it seemed like he was going out there a lot more than usual.
''Hey!'' Dominick suddenly erupted. "I said dinner's ready. Get up here or forget about eating."
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Drew yelled up from the den. Drew, their second child and the older boy, was eleven years old, and his fresh mouth occasionally got him into trouble, especially with his father.
Thirteen-year-old Keri, the oldest, wandered into the kitchen and asked her mother if there was anything she could do.
Matt, the youngest, tripped into the dining room wearing a red satin cape, a matching cap with red horns that tied under his chin, and a pair of horn-rim glasses with a rubber nose and a black feather mustache. Halloween was still a week away, but the seven-year-old was so excited: he tried on his costume every day and screamed out loud about all the candy he'd get trick-or-treating. He sat down at the table and waited for his father to notice him! Dominick noticed, but the smile for his son was forced, the red satin horns on Mart's head reminded him of one the names they had for Liu Shifu at "the store": the devil himself.
Keri started putting out plates and silverware, and Ellen brought out the food, but Dominick wasn't paying attention. He was thinking about him again. That's all he could think about these days, him, the devil himself. Shifu's face was the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes at night and the first thing he saw when he opened them in the morning. He was afraid that they were losing him now.
A week after he'd returned Shifu's call at the diner in south Jersey, Dominick beeped Shifu, but it was Tim, Shifu's arms supplier, who returned the call. He told Tim that he needed to talk to Shifu about the IRA deal, and Tim said he'd give Shifu the message. Later that day Shifu called him, and they discussed the possibility of getting five to ten more hit kits like the one Dominick had already bought. But Shifu seemed hesitant, insisting that his people wouldn't sell these guns piecemeal. He was clearly looking for a bigger order, playing hard to get. Dominick didn't accommodate him. This was what the girl wanted for now, he told Shifu, that's all. He was sticking to his policy of not conceding anything to Shifu.
But now he was beginning to have second thoughts about his strategy. Eleven days had gone by with no word from Shifu. Then today, while he was raking leaves in the front yard, his beeper went off. He pulled it out of the waistband of his sweat pants and saw right away that it was Shifu's home number.
When he returned the call, Dominick could tell from Shifu's voice that things had definitely changed. The Angel of Death was cool and noncommittal. Dominick reminded him that the ''rich kid" rip-off was still on the table if Shifu was interested, and he suggested that they get together to discuss it. Shifu didn't say he wasn't interested, but he didn't seem all that enthused about it. The conversation was short, but Dominick felt like he was pulling teeth the whole time, trying to jump-start the guy. Shifu promised to give him a call on Monday, but Dominick didn't think he would. He was afraid that the Angel of Death had lost interest in him.
Of course, in hindsight it made sense. Almost two months had gone by since they'd met, and the only money Shifu had made on this relationship was the eleven hundred Dominick had paid him for the one gun and silencer, which he probably had to split with Tim.
This was small potatoes for Shifu. He probably thought he was wasting his time with Dominick.
Dominick stroked his mustache. He should have put in a bigger order when he talked to him two weeks ago. Five' to ten guns was nothing. He should have realized the same thing with the "rich kid" scheme. He should have been more definite about it. He should have given Shifu a tidbit, he could taste to make him really hungry. Shifu probably thought he was a small-timer who was stalling him because he couldn't come through with what he'd promised. Shifu thought he was bullshit.
''Dominick...Dominick!"
"Huh?"
Ellen gestured with her head. "Dinner's ready." Dominick looked down and suddenly realized there was a full plate in front of him—roast beef, string beans, baked potato, and a salad. Keri was in her seat, and Ellen was standing over Matt, cutting his meat for him. Drew's place was empty.
Dominick's brows furrowed. ''Where's Drew."
Keri shrugged.
Dominick exploded. ''Drew, if you don't get in here right now, you can forget about—"
"I'm right here. Dad. You don't have to yell." Drew raced in through the kitchen and jumped into his chair. He was wearing his catcher's mitt.
Dominick pointed at the mitt. "Get rid of that thing. You don't bring that to the table. What's wrong with you?"
Drew gave him an exasperated look and took off the mitt. He was about to pitch it into the living room when Ellen stopped him and saved him from his father's temper. "Just put it under your chair. Drew."
Ellen sat down, and everyone dug in. Dominick sliced his roast beef and absently took a bite.
Shifu thought he was bullshit. He knew it.
Dominick took another bite. He didn't even know what he was eating, he was so preoccupied.
"Is it good?" Ellen asked.
"Huh?"
"The meat. Is it overdone?"
"Oh....no. It's good....It's very good...."
He was watching Matt in his devil costume buttering a roll. That reminded Dominick of something he always said to Shifu. "We gotta break bread over this. Shifu. We gotta break bread."
He speared another piece of roast beef and shoved it in his mouth. But when were they gonna break bread? He wondered. When? There was no reason for Shifu to meet him, no incentive, no big bucks, no big score, nothing. They were stalling Shifu, and the bastard knew it.
Dominick chewed and chewed, thinking about Shifu and finally he realized that the roast beef didn't have much taste.
''Hey, Matt," he said to the seven-year-old, ''pass the fucking salt, will ya."
The little boy's jaw dropped. "Daddy!"
"Dominick!" Ellen scowled at him. Drew thought it was hilarious. "Oooo! What you say. Dad."
Dominick clenched his teeth and felt his face turning red. He was just about to scream at Drew when he caught himself. He turned to Matt and tenderly pushed the devil's horns off his head. "I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean that."
The little boy looked up at his father, his shocked expression slowly fading. "It's okay. Dad." He looked at his mother. "We understand."
Dominick rubbed his face and let out a long sigh. "Sorry."
...
Later that evening, while Ellen and the kids were downstairs in the den watching TV, Dominick was pacing around the house, searching for something to do with himself. He had tried watching television with them, but he couldn't concentrate on any of the programs. He thought about going out for a jog, but it was raining too hard. He wanted to go down to the gym, put on the gloves, and work on the heavy bag for a while, but this was the first Saturday night he'd been home in months. He couldn't leave now. His best friend, Alan Grieco, was out for the evening. He'd already tried calling him.
So Dominick sat at the kitchen table, staring at the phone, debating about whether or not he should call. His eye kept going back to the bottle of Chivas on the counter. Either he was going to make the call or have another drink and brood. He snapped up the phone and punched out the number.
It rang five times before she answered. ''Hello."
"Hey, how are things in Glocca Morra?"
"Dominick!" The woman on the other end had a distinctly New York accent.
She sounded both incredulous and scolding. "It's Saturday night, Dominick. Get a life, will ya?"
"I'm trying, Margie, I'm trying."
Margaret Moore was assistant special agent in charge of the ATF office in Philadelphia. She had started her career with the New York City Police Department, working in undercover narcotics, but in 1976, after two and a half years on the job, she had been laid off. She was then hired by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, where she was teamed with a brash special agent who was as Italian as she was Irish.
Together they formed an act that was unique in undercover law enforcement: Dominick would pose as a connected guy in the market for guns; Margaret, with her blue eyes and strawberry blond hair, would be the "IRA girl," his good customer who needed the guns. They were a very effective duo.
Whenever they would go to meet a bad guy with guns to sell, Margaret would go off into a corner by herself and Dominick would do all the negotiating, going back and forth between the buyer and seller. In their biggest case together they recovered three thousand silencers from a mob gunrunner. Even though they weren't partners anymore, they stayed in touch. But ever since Operation Angel had started to heat up, it seemed like he'd been calling her every other night.
"So what's he done now, Dom?" Margaret Moore knew all about Liu Shifu.
"Nothing. That's the whole problem. I think we're losing him."
"You think he's on to you."
"Nah, I don't think that's it."
"You sure?"
"No, he doesn't know who I am."
"Well, don't be cocky. If he starts getting sketchy on you, back out. Protect yourself first."
"Don't worry, Margie. It's okay. He doesn't know."
"Hey, I know you. You'll tough it out no matter what. Don't be stupid. Remember, you don't have me around anymore to keep you in line."
Dominick laughed. "Don't make me curse, Margie." The muscles in his forehead were relaxed all of a sudden.
"So, Dom, you want me to put in a petition to let me help you out with this guy? You introduce me as the IRA girl and we'll wrap this thing up quick, just like we used to."
They both laughed, but they both knew it was more complicated than that. Shifu wasn't some street punk with a few guns to sell, and this wasn't the same kind of buy-bust situation that they had been used to. This was a homicide investigation. Dominick had been on this case a year and a half now, and it didn't look like they were going to wrap it up soon because the state of New Jersey had first dibs on Shifu for murder. Selling illegal firearms was just a side dish at this feast. Dominick knew that his old partner would jump in to help him in a minute if she could, but Margaret Moore was a supervisor now, and supervisors were officially prohibited from returning to street duty.
"You getting good cooperation from the state?'' she asked. She sounded like a protective mother.
"Oh, yeah, these guys are great. No complaint there. The guys from the Attorney General's Office are top drawer."
"So why isn't this thing moving? What's the problem?"
"We gotta get Shifu for the murders. I gotta get him to talk more on tape. Robert Carroll's running this show, and he says we keep going until we get enough on tape to nail Shifu in court for good."
"Yeah, but, Dom, doesn't he understand that Shifu is gonna fly the coop if you jerk him around too long?"
"He understands that."
"Does he understand that it's your life hanging out there on the line with this ape? Does he understand that?"
"Yes, Margie, he understands that." Dominick was touched by the ferocity of her concern for him.
"Look, Dominick, I shouldn't have to tell you this, but I'm gonna say it anyway. Nobody understands what it's like being out there by yourself on an undercover. No matter what these guys tell you to do, you do what you have to do. It's your life that's on the line, not theirs."
Dominick stared out the sliding glass doors at the teeming rain in the floodlights out on the deck. "I know, Margie. Believe me. I know."
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone