Present Day, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1986— LATE AFTERNOON
Hoss DiVita had a face that could switch from joviality to utter dejection, like nothing. Perhaps, it was this comic quality that appealed to Liu Shifu because he had been doing business with DiVita for a long time, getting Hoss stolen cars, which he then fenced for Shifu.
Or maybe it was just that Hoss DiVita always seemed to have what he needed. That was certainly why Shifu had traveled all the way up to DiVita's home in New London, Connecticut, that day. He needed a van, and the first person he thought of was Hoss DiVita. Hoss specialized in vehicles.
Shifu had called Hoss earlier that day and asked him to pick him up at a shopping center in New London. When they got back to the house, Hoss's wife had company over, so they went to the back room where Hoss stored the merchandise for his "wholesale business." Hoss closed the door for privacy. Shifu was in a strange, pensive mood, and Hoss came right out and asked what was bothering him.
Shifu leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "My friend," he said softly, ''in this life you never set a pattern."
Hoss looked concerned. "Whatsa matter Shifu? You got trouble with the....?"
Shifu smiled and shrugged. "I'm feeling a little heat, yeah. I have to have my car checked for bugs every day. That's why I didn't drive up here."
"Oh.... I'm sorry to hear that." Hoss decided not to ask how Shifu got to New London. He knew better than to ask nosy questions. "So what can I do for you, Shifu?"
"I need a van. You said you had one."
"Yeah, I got one." Hoss went to the window and lifted the dusty shade. He pointed into the backyard. "That one, over there."
Shifu moved to the window and peered at the van parked next to the garage. He let out a long sigh. The damn thing had too many windows.
"That one's no good. I need one with no windows."
Hoss rubbed his chin. "I might be able to get you one, Shifu. How soon do you need it.?"
"Today." Shifu had talked to Dominick that morning. Dominick would be bringing the rich kid to the Lombardi Service Area tomorrow morning to do the coke deal. He'd promised to be there with a van.
"Jeez, Shifu, you should've told me. I don't know where to get one that fast."
'I've got cash, Hoss."
'Yeah, but I don't have a van with no windows. Getting one's gonna take a little time. I mean—"
The phone in the next room rang then, and Hoss frowned at all the noise coming from the front rooms. "Hang on. Shifu." He went into the next room to pick it up.
''Shifu? It's for you."
Shifu poked his head into the den. Hoss was holding out the receiver, the cord stretching to a phone on an end table by the couch. "Who is it?" Shifu asked.
Hoss shrugged. "He says his name is Tim."
Sposato. Shifu took the phone, and Hoss left, closing the door behind him.
"Hello?"
"It's me. John."
"What's wrong?" Shifu didn't like the sound of his voice.
"You find a van?" Sposato asked.
"No. How about you?"
"Well," Sposato started, "I got a problem. See, I don't have any money, not even to rent one. I'm broke."
Shifu clenched his jaw and felt his face and neck getting hot. He'd told Sposato last week to start looking for a van. But he held his temper and didn't say a word, just breathed into the phone and let the bastard think about what he'd just said.
"Shifu? You still there?"
"Get me a van, John. I don't care how. Just get it. And make sure it doesn't have any windows. No windows." He kept his voice calm and even. People took threats more seriously when there wasn't any yelling.
"But, Shifu, you don't understand. I can't—"
"Just get one. I'll call you later."
Shifu hung up the phone. He didn't want to give Sposato the last word with his snivelling bullshit. He wanted to leave him with something to think about.
He went back into the storeroom, where Hoss was waiting for him.
Hoss started shaking his head. "I'm really sorry I can't help you with the van, Shifu."
Shifu went to the window and stared out at the darkening sky. ''You know, these days I feel like I'm in the middle of this big circle of people and everyone is disappearing around me. Pretty soon I'll be the only one left standing."
Hoss made a face. "What?"
Shifu turned around and looked at him. "Never mind."
Hoss changed the subject. "You ever come by any Corvettes anymore, Shifu."
"Nah. Those days are over." He was staring out the window again.
"That was nice when you used to get those. Got rid of those fast, no hanging around. Good money with those things."
Back in 1982, when Shifu had Zhang Xiaohua, Sean Xiao, and Li Xian stealing brand-new Corvettes, Hoss DiVita fenced them for him. They usually got one quarter of the sticker price, about six thousand dollars, Hoss would get two thousand, and Shifu would take the rest. Sometimes Hoss went down to Shifu's warehouse in North Bergen to pick up the cars, and sometimes Shifu drove them up to Connecticut.
On one occasion Shifu had delivered a new white Corvette to DiVita. Sean Xiao drove the stolen sports car while he followed in his own car. They met Hoss at a diner in New London, and when they went inside, Hoss noticed that Sean Xiao wouldn't say shit in front of Shifu. He asked Shifu why his guy was so quiet, but Shifu didn't really give him an answer. Hoss thought it was awfully strange that "the quiet guy" wouldn't even smoke until Shifu gave him permission. When the waitress came to take their orders, "the quiet guy" didn't do that for himself either. Shifu ordered for him.
Six months later Shifu had met DiVita at the Dunkin' Donuts across from the airport in New Jersey. In the course of conversation, Hoss had asked about "the quiet guy."
"He's gone," Shifu had said. "He was running off at the mouth, so I had to take care of him."
In that same conversation over coffee and doughnuts, Shifu had mentioned to Hoss that there was a guy in protective custody who could mess him up, a possible "pointer." He'd even mentioned the pointer's name, Zhang Xiaohua. In hindsight, that wasn't very smart.
Shifu turned back from the window and stared at Hoss. He was thinking about that circle of people and how it was shrinking. Maybe he'd told Hoss too much.
He glanced out the window at the van again. The wooden sash bars were like crosshairs in a rifle scope. Shifu had done a few jobs with rifles, but he always preferred small handguns—.22s, .25s., 380s. Big handguns like 9mms, .45s, and .357s were for intimidation. Small pieces were what you brought when you meant business. His favorite gun was a two-shot derringer loaded with dumdum bullets that expanded on impact and could rip a hole as big as a tire as it exited the body. When he was fully armed for a job, his weapons of choice were two derringers—one in each pocket—a larger gun in an ankle holster for backup, and his hunting knife in his belt.
Shifu sucked his teeth as he squinted down an imaginary scope, taking aim at the van outside.
''Is there anything else you need, Shifu?"
Shifu didn't turn around. "I don't think so, Hoss."
He kept the windshield of the van in his crosshairs.