poor old lady was still good for a laugh now and then. She had become something of a legend at “the store”—the first and only honest person ever to walk into this place.
Over by the pay phone on the wall, Lenny DePrima, one of the regular fixtures here, was talking to the crooked cop with the umbrellas. Dominick had to talk to DePrima. But before he could make it across the room, someone grabbed his sleeve.
“Hey, Dom.”
Walter Kipner peered over his tinted aviator glasses and grinned up at Dominick. Thick ropes of gold chain mingled with his gray chest hairs. His silver gray mane was perfect.
“Hey, what’s up, Walt?” Kipner always had something going.
“C’mere. I wanna show you something.” Kipner led Dominick over to a secluded corner. He had a Bloomingdale’s shopping bag in his hand. He opened the bag and let Dominick take a peek. It was full of five-dollar bills, bundles of them bound with rubber bands.
Kipner pulled a loose bill out and handed it to Dominick. “Made in England. The best. You can’t tell the difference, can you?”
Dominick rubbed the counterfeit bill between his fingers. “Yeah, not bad.” Frigging Kipner. He was into everything.
“If you take half a mil, you can have ’em for twenty cents on the dollar.” Kipner was slathering like the wolf who ate Grandma.
Dominick pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I dunno, Walt. Fives. Who the fuck wants fives? Twenties, sure. But fives? Gimme a break. You gotta walk around with a fucking suitcase with these things.”
Kipner looked deeply hurt. “Whattaya talkin’ about, Dom? Fives are perfect. Who the fuck bothers to check out a five? You tell me. Big bills they check. But they don’t check little stuff. Never. That’s why they’re perfect.”
Lenny DePrima was still over by the phone, but the cop was gone. Dominick really had to talk to him.
Kipner lowered his voice. “You take a mil and I’ll give ’em to you for
fifteen cents
. Just for you, Dom.”
Dominick kept his eye on DePrima. He had to get rid of Kipner and his phony fives so he could talk to him, but he’d write this up later in his daily report. Kipner was a real piece of work. In the last year he’d tried to sell Dominick everything—silencers, rocket launchers, plastic explosives. This was the first time with counterfeit money, though. If this guy only knew what a pass he was getting. It had been decided from the beginning that they weren’t going to bust any bad guys Dominick found out about and risk blowing his cover. For the past seventeen months he’d had just one target and that was all he was supposed to focus on. His assignment was to get close to Richard Kuklinski—that’s all. But now, almost a year and a half later, he was no closer to Kuklinski than he had been when he started this undercover. That’s why he and Lenny DePrima had to have a little talk. DePrima had to start doing more.
Dominick suspected that Lenny DePrima was jerking him around now. Between the New Jersey State Police and the New Jersey Division of Criminal Justice, they had more than enough on DePrima to make his life miserable. He was a known fence with a lengthy criminal record, and they could easily put him away for receiving stolen property. They could also prosecute him for a number of auto thefts, burglaries, and hijackings he’d sponsored. This was how people in DePrima’s business ordered their wares. If there was something you knew you could sell, you hired somebody else to steal it for you. Cars, jewelry, fur coats, TV sets, sewing machines, watches, canned goods, whatever. Dominick remembered when a hijacked truckload of Maine lobsters had appeared a couple of days before New Year’s. DePrima figured he could unload lobsters easy for the holiday, so he’d put in an order.
But DePrima wasn’t getting a free ride from the state for nothingDominick had several informants who said they knew Richard Kuklinski and were working to get him an
Over by the pay phone on the wall, Lenny DePrima, one of the regular fixtures here, was talking to the crooked cop with the umbrellas. Dominick had to talk to DePrima. But before he could make it across the room, someone grabbed his sleeve.
“Hey, Dom.”
Walter Kipner peered over his tinted aviator glasses and grinned up at Dominick. Thick ropes of gold chain mingled with his gray chest hairs. His silver gray mane was perfect.
“Hey, what’s up, Walt?” Kipner always had something going.
“C’mere. I wanna show you something.” Kipner led Dominick over to a secluded corner. He had a Bloomingdale’s shopping bag in his hand. He opened the bag and let Dominick take a peek. It was full of five-dollar bills, bundles of them bound with rubber bands.
Kipner pulled a loose bill out and handed it to Dominick. “Made in England. The best. You can’t tell the difference, can you?”
Dominick rubbed the counterfeit bill between his fingers. “Yeah, not bad.” Frigging Kipner. He was into everything.
“If you take half a mil, you can have ’em for twenty cents on the dollar.” Kipner was slathering like the wolf who ate Grandma.
Dominick pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I dunno, Walt. Fives. Who the fuck wants fives? Twenties, sure. But fives? Gimme a break. You gotta walk around with a fucking suitcase with these things.”
Kipner looked deeply hurt. “Whattaya talkin’ about, Dom? Fives are perfect. Who the fuck bothers to check out a five? You tell me. Big bills they check. But they don’t check little stuff. Never. That’s why they’re perfect.”
Lenny DePrima was still over by the phone, but the cop was gone. Dominick really had to talk to him.
Kipner lowered his voice. “You take a mil and I’ll give ’em to you for
fifteen cents
. Just for you, Dom.”
Dominick kept his eye on DePrima. He had to get rid of Kipner and his phony fives so he could talk to him, but he’d write this up later in his daily report. Kipner was a real piece of work. In the last year he’d tried to sell Dominick everything—silencers, rocket launchers, plastic explosives. This was the first time with counterfeit money, though. If this guy only knew what a pass he was getting. It had been decided from the beginning that they weren’t going to bust any bad guys Dominick found out about and risk blowing his cover. For the past seventeen months he’d had just one target and that was all he was supposed to focus on. His assignment was to get close to Richard Kuklinski—that’s all. But now, almost a year and a half later, he was no closer to Kuklinski than he had been when he started this undercover. That’s why he and Lenny DePrima had to have a little talk. DePrima had to start doing more.
Dominick suspected that Lenny DePrima was jerking him around now. Between the New Jersey State Police and the New Jersey Division of Criminal Justice, they had more than enough on DePrima to make his life miserable. He was a known fence with a lengthy criminal record, and they could easily put him away for receiving stolen property. They could also prosecute him for a number of auto thefts, burglaries, and hijackings he’d sponsored. This was how people in DePrima’s business ordered their wares. If there was something you knew you could sell, you hired somebody else to steal it for you. Cars, jewelry, fur coats, TV sets, sewing machines, watches, canned goods, whatever. Dominick remembered when a hijacked truckload of Maine lobsters had appeared a couple of days before New Year’s. DePrima figured he could unload lobsters easy for the holiday, so he’d put in an order.
But DePrima wasn’t getting a free ride from the state for nothingDominick had several informants who said they knew Richard Kuklinski and were working to get him an
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