Read Online Jungle Of Steel And Stone by George C. Chesbro - Free Book Online
Authors: George C. Chesbro
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stopped him."
"Why do these people want the statue?"
"I don't know."
"The two men you sent out told me you were going to give them a grand each if they brought you back the idol. Is that true?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have the money?"
"I could've got it."
"From the man whose name you won't give me?"
"Him or others. It was a street contract. The word was out that the statue was worth five grand to certain people." Crabbe paused, put a dirty index finger beside his nose. "I'd heard about the contract, but I knew those other two hadn't. I figured I had nothing to lose by promising those two guys a thousand each to follow the girl, then grab the idol from that guy if she found him. I'd still clear three grand."
"All right, then there's a general street contract out on the statue; anyone who brings it in and hands it over to certain people can collect the reward. Was it your idea to follow the woman?"
"Nah. The same guy who put me on the street to watch the gallery gave me the woman's address and suggested that I keep an eye on her."
* * *
Veil sat in the cool shadows at the rear of the church sanctuary throughout the afternoon. At four-thirty, a door to the left of the altar opened and a priest stepped through. The man was around six feet, Veil's height, and in his mid- to late fifties. His hair was thick and black, with a few pronounced streaks of gray. A solid man with broad shoulders, he walked with a severe limp that caused his body to roll from side to side as he moved to the center of the altar rail, kissed his purple vestment, then knelt and prayed for a few minutes. Finally he rose and entered the confessional to the far left. Veil looked around, determined that he was alone, then walked quickly to the confessional, went in, and sat down on the narrow wooden bench inside.
"I've come to talk about sin, Father," Veil said softly as a small door opened in the partition separating the two men.
There was a long pause, then, "Veil?" The priest's voice was hoarse and gravelly, as if something had been broken in his throat.
"Yes."
There was another equally long pause. When the priest finally spoke, there was a note of dry humor in his voice. "Am I to assume that you've found your way to God?"
"No, Father. I'm afraid I'll have to seek salvation in other ways."
"There are no other ways."
"For now I'll settle for having found my way to you."
"What do you want with me, Veil?"
"I need information that you may have, Father."
"Veil, this is a confessional."
"I'm aware of that, Father, and I don't mean to be disrespectful—but this is Little Italy, and I don't want to risk having anyone see you talking to me. I've attracted quite a following since yesterday, and I haven't quite figured out who's watching whom."
"God protects me, Veil."
"I need to get plugged in on some family business, Father."
"It isn't proper for you to come to me with such a request, Veil. I can't help you."
"I think you can. This isn't a matter anyone would have spoken to you about in the confessional. No disrespect meant here, either, Father—you happen to be one of the most truly religious and good men I know, but you also happen to be the closest thing to a 'house priest' the mob has."
There was a sudden, palpable increase in tension inside the confessional. "It is because I am not judgmental."
"It's because three generations of your family have been Cosa Nostra; you're the only male who didn't go into the business—everyone around you did. As far as being judgmental is concerned, I don't recall that I was too judgmental when you came to me for help in finding out where your mistress had taken your illegitimate son; you couldn't go to anyone else. I was the one who negotiated what you might call a reconciliation agreement. Now I'm asking for your help."
The priest heaved a deep sigh. "What are you looking for, Veil?"
"Somebody else's god. You've heard about the idol they call the Nal-toon?"
"Yes."
"What have you heard?"
"I read the
"Why do these people want the statue?"
"I don't know."
"The two men you sent out told me you were going to give them a grand each if they brought you back the idol. Is that true?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have the money?"
"I could've got it."
"From the man whose name you won't give me?"
"Him or others. It was a street contract. The word was out that the statue was worth five grand to certain people." Crabbe paused, put a dirty index finger beside his nose. "I'd heard about the contract, but I knew those other two hadn't. I figured I had nothing to lose by promising those two guys a thousand each to follow the girl, then grab the idol from that guy if she found him. I'd still clear three grand."
"All right, then there's a general street contract out on the statue; anyone who brings it in and hands it over to certain people can collect the reward. Was it your idea to follow the woman?"
"Nah. The same guy who put me on the street to watch the gallery gave me the woman's address and suggested that I keep an eye on her."
* * *
Veil sat in the cool shadows at the rear of the church sanctuary throughout the afternoon. At four-thirty, a door to the left of the altar opened and a priest stepped through. The man was around six feet, Veil's height, and in his mid- to late fifties. His hair was thick and black, with a few pronounced streaks of gray. A solid man with broad shoulders, he walked with a severe limp that caused his body to roll from side to side as he moved to the center of the altar rail, kissed his purple vestment, then knelt and prayed for a few minutes. Finally he rose and entered the confessional to the far left. Veil looked around, determined that he was alone, then walked quickly to the confessional, went in, and sat down on the narrow wooden bench inside.
"I've come to talk about sin, Father," Veil said softly as a small door opened in the partition separating the two men.
There was a long pause, then, "Veil?" The priest's voice was hoarse and gravelly, as if something had been broken in his throat.
"Yes."
There was another equally long pause. When the priest finally spoke, there was a note of dry humor in his voice. "Am I to assume that you've found your way to God?"
"No, Father. I'm afraid I'll have to seek salvation in other ways."
"There are no other ways."
"For now I'll settle for having found my way to you."
"What do you want with me, Veil?"
"I need information that you may have, Father."
"Veil, this is a confessional."
"I'm aware of that, Father, and I don't mean to be disrespectful—but this is Little Italy, and I don't want to risk having anyone see you talking to me. I've attracted quite a following since yesterday, and I haven't quite figured out who's watching whom."
"God protects me, Veil."
"I need to get plugged in on some family business, Father."
"It isn't proper for you to come to me with such a request, Veil. I can't help you."
"I think you can. This isn't a matter anyone would have spoken to you about in the confessional. No disrespect meant here, either, Father—you happen to be one of the most truly religious and good men I know, but you also happen to be the closest thing to a 'house priest' the mob has."
There was a sudden, palpable increase in tension inside the confessional. "It is because I am not judgmental."
"It's because three generations of your family have been Cosa Nostra; you're the only male who didn't go into the business—everyone around you did. As far as being judgmental is concerned, I don't recall that I was too judgmental when you came to me for help in finding out where your mistress had taken your illegitimate son; you couldn't go to anyone else. I was the one who negotiated what you might call a reconciliation agreement. Now I'm asking for your help."
The priest heaved a deep sigh. "What are you looking for, Veil?"
"Somebody else's god. You've heard about the idol they call the Nal-toon?"
"Yes."
"What have you heard?"
"I read the
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