Visiting Hours

Part Six

 

Another month went by and the Boss knew for certain what happened to Nightwing. The only question was what he was going to do about it.

Sure, friendship was important and the kid had been good to him, no question, but business was business. But then, the kid had been nice to Karen too, when almost no one else was because of her family and that counted for a lot, it did.

So it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. If this had been anyone else, anyone at all, it would have been a no-brainer but this time…crap.

And it didn’t help that he couldn’t get in touch with the guy to talk to him, find out where this was going. It wasn’t easy, no, it wasn’t and the Boss hated things that got complicated. He could have contacted—or had his guys contact—the people who could answer his questions but that would be tipping his hand and he wasn’t ready to do that, not yet.

So he had an idea, had his lawyer make a call, which wasn’t returned (of course) and then send a follow up letter that did get a result.

Tuesday morning he was called from his cell because he had a visitor.

The man stood in the warden’s office, didn’t say anything, just stood there waiting for the Boss to make the first move and speak first. But then intimidation always was his stock in trade and John could play the game as well as anyone. Sitting in the leather chair across from the warden, Gadolfalo decided to wait him out. After a while it almost became funny, though, of course, no one was laughing.

The warden played with some papers on his desk.

Batman stood stock still, not even his cape moving.

John calmly watched, waiting.

The clock on the mantle ticked.

They could hear some indistinct voices in the outer office.

The warden poured himself a glass of water.

The phone rang and was answered with a simple ‘Later’.

The silence stretched on too long until finally the warden broke it with a single sentence to his prisoner. “Tell him what he wants to know.”

That was unexpected; John thought he was here because Batman was responding to the call and letter from his lawyer. ‘Guess not.

“What do you know about Nightwing’s whereabouts?”

John noticed that the man could talk without moving a single muscle, interesting in a way. And Batman didn’t know where Nightwing was? That was even more interesting.

“You got me.”

“I suspect I do. Where is he?”

“Dunno. You tell me.”

“Tel me or there will be consequences.”

“Threats? Whaddaya gonna do, put me in jail?”

Batman moved quickly enough that John was being held off the ground by his throat before he could react. “’Much worse things than jail. Tell me where he is.”

“I did, I dunno.”

“Where?”

“Fuck yourself.”

“Where?” The hand on his throat tightened and he was raised another six inches off the floor.

“I don’t have him.”

“Where?”

The pain was getting bad, his neck feeling like it was about to break.

“Where?” He shook his arm just enough so that the Boss’s legs wobbled like a rag doll’s.

“Batman, I really must object…” The warden was getting concerned, a dead prisoner, especially a high profile one would be difficult to explain.

“Where?”

“I think he’s with the Bono Family.” Another small shake. “In Bludhaven. I heard he’s there, workin’ for them.”

Batman stared at him as if trying to see inside his brain, trying to divine if he was lying or trying to throw him off the right course. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his arm until John could feel the floor beneath his feet. With relief he collapsed, gasping, back into the chair.

“Why?”

“How the hell should I know? He’s a grown-up; he does whatever he wants. Maybe he got tired of toeing the line with you, you ever think of that?” He was backhanded across the face so fast he couldn’t move out of the way.

“Batman! I have to ask you to leave. Now, please.” The warden knew when he had to make a stand and with the most powerful crime family on the East Coast in his office, a man who would be released in a few too short years, this was the time to cover his ass.

“The Bono family works for you, you know everything they do. They obey you. Tell me why he’s there.”

“They work alone while I’m in here, ask anybody.” He ignored the glare; he’d had enough of this. “He’s your kid, ask him.”

The Bat was gone. Gadolfalo was returned to his cell but he knew things it seemed his visitor didn’t. He knew that Nightwing was working undercover to stop the drug trafficking. He knew the kid had been hurt, seriously hurt, shot hurt. He knew the kid was on crutches and had snowed Tony Bono into thinking he was a cop turned renegade and wanting a piece of the action and would trade it for inside knowledge.

Tony always was dumb.

Nightwing wouldn’t make another appearance until he could walk without a limp. But ‘Crutches’, that was a different matter.

 

* * *
 

Karen Gadolfalo knew everybody in her father’s line of work.

She knew the bosses, the underlings, the wives and the children. She knew the guys who’d retired and what they were up to while they tried to take it easy. She knew their golf and bocce scores. She remembered when someone’s kid was to graduate from high school or college, what their plans were and made sure to send a card, often with a check enclosed, from her family.

She could tell you where they liked to vacation, who still had relatives back in the old country and the name of the town or village. Her father relied on her knowledge, counted on it and so knew immediately when the new guy started helping Tony with his imports.

And she knew exactly who he was, too. She’d dated the guy a couple of times at her father’s insistence. Nothing had clicked between them, though he was a nice enough guy. She’d recognized him that time he was coming out of Tony’s place and she was just pulling in across the street.

Karen was smart. She knew better than to say anything. Of course she told her dad, but that was different. This was information she knew he could use, that he needed.

No one told Tony—who was a low-life and not to be trusted.

And the guy, the one her dad called ‘kid’ was injured. His leg, he was on crutches and she could tell that it was painful for him but he was still there, still working and that meant that it was just a matter of time before he brought Tony down.

And that would help her father. Assigning a couple of her father’s best helpers to keep watch and maybe see what they could do to grease the wheels and make things a little easier for the kid, she stayed away and bided her time.

She left him alone to do her job for her.

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