Read Online The Punishing Game by Nathan Gottlieb - Free Book Online
Authors: Nathan Gottlieb
Ads: Link
windows. Monetti tailed the limo to another office building, this one on 34 th Street, where it double parked near the front entrance. A minute later, a tall white man wearing slacks and a polo shirt walked out of the building and climbed into the back seat of the limo.
I ho pe you like sushi, the cops heard Throaty Voice say.
The only thing I eat raw , a new voice said, is pussy.
So order the teriyaki steak. It’s good. Tell me, did you ever hear of a private investigator named Frank Boff?
No. Why?
Throaty voice hacked out a couple coughs as the limo pulled back into traffic, the Impala a couple cars behind it . “I’m told he’s in town and might be sticking his nose into our business.
So l et him, the other voice said . He won’t find anything.
I’m not so sure of that. You want a drink?
Johnny Black.
The cops heard ice clinking in a glass.
Boff is trouble, my friend , Throaty Voice said after a minute.
He’s ju st one man , said the other voice . What’s the problem?
Boff’s a former DEA agent . One of the best the agency ever had. I’m told there’s an agency myth that Boff put so many Colombian drug dealers in jail one year that he made a dent in the country’s gross national product.
So w hy’d this hotshot leave the DEA?” the new voice asked. Sounds like he could’ve run the agency one day. By this time, the two cops were figuring that the new voice belonged to the white man who’d gotten into the limo.
All I know , Throaty Voice was saying, is that after Boff quit the agency, he switched sides. Now he helps defense lawyers keep bad guys out of jail. I’m told Boff’s among the best in the country at what he does.
Inside the Impala, Monetti looked at his partner and frowned. “I know about this Boff,” he muttered. “He’s a real scumbag. But if he’s onto these jokers, we don’t have to worry about catching them. Boff’ll nail their asses.”
So put a tail on this Boff, the white man said, and when he gets out of his car, cap him.
Throaty Voice laughed. Boff would spot a tail or an ambush in a heartbeat. A lot of people have wanted to kill him. None have succeeded.
You make him sound like fucking Superman.
Yeah. An evil version.
I’m puzzled , the white man said. If this guy makes his living defending felons, why would he be nosing into our business?
Dunno. But if he is, we better assume he’ll always be one step behind us. We’re going to have to be doubly careful. Boff has been around so many criminals, he thinks like one.
Does he have family? the white man asked.
Wife and two kids in Las Vegas.
So threaten his family .
Another bad move , Throaty Voice said . When you get a chance, look up what happened to an Israeli mobster named Yitzhak Soliman. Jew-boy not only threatened Boff’s family, but tried to kill him. We don’t want to suffer the same fate.
The limo stopped in front of Sushi Hana on Amsterdam Avenue near 83d Street.
We don’t need this shit now , the white man said . Not when we’re so close .
W ell guess what? We’ve got it.
Chapter 12
After finishing the last of his morning session five miles on the treadmill, Cullen looked over and saw McAlary staring out the window at something. He stepped off the treadmill and walked over to his trainer.
McAlary pointed. “Your driver is here.”
Looking down at the street, Cullen saw Boff leaning against the rental Honda. Like it or not, he admitted, the man was back in his life. There would be no getting rid of him now. He turned to McAlary. “Ryan, I know you’re mad. But look at it this way. Even if Boff’s wrong about me being the target, don’t you at least want him to catch the people that killed Nino?”
“The cops’ll do that.”
“Bullshit. You know damn well they’ve written it off as a drive-by.”
McAlary turned to Cullen. “Maybe so,” he said. “But why can’t you let Boff do it himself? He’s only been here one day, and already you’ve taken up with him.
I ho pe you like sushi, the cops heard Throaty Voice say.
The only thing I eat raw , a new voice said, is pussy.
So order the teriyaki steak. It’s good. Tell me, did you ever hear of a private investigator named Frank Boff?
No. Why?
Throaty voice hacked out a couple coughs as the limo pulled back into traffic, the Impala a couple cars behind it . “I’m told he’s in town and might be sticking his nose into our business.
So l et him, the other voice said . He won’t find anything.
I’m not so sure of that. You want a drink?
Johnny Black.
The cops heard ice clinking in a glass.
Boff is trouble, my friend , Throaty Voice said after a minute.
He’s ju st one man , said the other voice . What’s the problem?
Boff’s a former DEA agent . One of the best the agency ever had. I’m told there’s an agency myth that Boff put so many Colombian drug dealers in jail one year that he made a dent in the country’s gross national product.
So w hy’d this hotshot leave the DEA?” the new voice asked. Sounds like he could’ve run the agency one day. By this time, the two cops were figuring that the new voice belonged to the white man who’d gotten into the limo.
All I know , Throaty Voice was saying, is that after Boff quit the agency, he switched sides. Now he helps defense lawyers keep bad guys out of jail. I’m told Boff’s among the best in the country at what he does.
Inside the Impala, Monetti looked at his partner and frowned. “I know about this Boff,” he muttered. “He’s a real scumbag. But if he’s onto these jokers, we don’t have to worry about catching them. Boff’ll nail their asses.”
So put a tail on this Boff, the white man said, and when he gets out of his car, cap him.
Throaty Voice laughed. Boff would spot a tail or an ambush in a heartbeat. A lot of people have wanted to kill him. None have succeeded.
You make him sound like fucking Superman.
Yeah. An evil version.
I’m puzzled , the white man said. If this guy makes his living defending felons, why would he be nosing into our business?
Dunno. But if he is, we better assume he’ll always be one step behind us. We’re going to have to be doubly careful. Boff has been around so many criminals, he thinks like one.
Does he have family? the white man asked.
Wife and two kids in Las Vegas.
So threaten his family .
Another bad move , Throaty Voice said . When you get a chance, look up what happened to an Israeli mobster named Yitzhak Soliman. Jew-boy not only threatened Boff’s family, but tried to kill him. We don’t want to suffer the same fate.
The limo stopped in front of Sushi Hana on Amsterdam Avenue near 83d Street.
We don’t need this shit now , the white man said . Not when we’re so close .
W ell guess what? We’ve got it.
Chapter 12
After finishing the last of his morning session five miles on the treadmill, Cullen looked over and saw McAlary staring out the window at something. He stepped off the treadmill and walked over to his trainer.
McAlary pointed. “Your driver is here.”
Looking down at the street, Cullen saw Boff leaning against the rental Honda. Like it or not, he admitted, the man was back in his life. There would be no getting rid of him now. He turned to McAlary. “Ryan, I know you’re mad. But look at it this way. Even if Boff’s wrong about me being the target, don’t you at least want him to catch the people that killed Nino?”
“The cops’ll do that.”
“Bullshit. You know damn well they’ve written it off as a drive-by.”
McAlary turned to Cullen. “Maybe so,” he said. “But why can’t you let Boff do it himself? He’s only been here one day, and already you’ve taken up with him.
Similar Books
