Polastro had not seen what had shattered his wrist. He hobbled around on the soapy floor so he could see his questioner. He saw two knee caps, two empty hands, a light sports shirt and a rather bored face. Since there was no blood in his broken wrist, the man must have used some instrument that didn't break skin to draw blood. But the man's hands were empty.
How did he get in here, anyway? Where were Tony and Vito? He'd settle the matter with those dumbhead bodyguards shortly. They live off you, fat and sloppy, and the first lunatic that makes an attempt at you succeeds.
"Time's up," said the man.
"In Chicago at the board of education, there's a man. He provides the service."
"The killings are contracted out?"
"Special ones. It's expensive. I ain't admitting that I contracted anything out. And none of this will hold up in a court. This is no confession."
"I'm not in the court business. How does this man do it?"
"I don't know. That's why he's expensive."
"His name?"
"I don't know his name."
"How expensive?"
"A hundred thousand in advance. A hundred thousand when the job's done."
"And you tell me you give a hundred thousand down to someone whose name you don't know?"
"Yes," said Salvatore Polastro and he saw a hand move very slowly down to his good, cradling, wrist. Slowly, yet it was out and back, and now his right wrist had that searing shock, that instant of pain that let him know it was more than a sprain that would go right away. He slumped back on his heels which were now beneath him. His two hands, loosely connected to arms by two broken wrists, lay useless in his lap.
"You phone a special number in Chicago, and then they call back and tell you where to send the money and they get all the information on the hit," Polastro said.
"I just need someone."
"The first call goes to a Warner Pell. He's the assistant director of special advancement progress."
"What does that mean?"
"He tries to keep the niggers and the retards away from ruining the students."
"With force?"
"I don't know. I don't know what he does. He's just assistant director of special advancement progress. You never know what they do. None of my business. Hey, let me get to a doctor."
"You're a racist," said Remo.
"Who isn't?"
"Lots of people."
And then Polastro saw an old Oriental shuffle into the boys' room of the new Holy Name sports complex. An old man he was, with long fingernails and wisps of white hair circling his frail golden skull like delicate ribbons.
"I heard that," he said. "Any system that keeps whites and blacks away from the real students is a good one."
What was that old man doing here? Where were Tony and Vito? They were letting people through like they were going through turnstiles.
"I know you wouldn't lie to us. Warner Pell, you say."
And Salvatore Polastro, a leading Detroit citizen, was about to say yes when everything became dark. When he woke up, both his hands were aching and they were heavy with white plaster casts. He saw a white ceiling light above him and that he was covered with a light gray blanket and white sheets. He was in a bed. He saw a black plastic knob hanging down from a black wire. It was a call button. He was in a hospital.
"Shit," said Salvatore Polastro.
"Sir, are you awake?" asked a nurse who was reading a magazine.
"No. I always talk in a coma," said Polastro. "Where are my chauffeur and secretary? Tony," he called out. "Vito. Vito. Tony."
"Sir, you'd better rest."
"I want Tony and Vito."
"Sir, they're indisposed."
"What does that mean?"
"They can't come here right now."
"You tell them I say so. They'll come."
"I'm afraid not, sir."
"Did they run away?"
"Not exactly, sir. They were found in the trunk of a car near the Holy Name sports complex. Just after the sisters found you unconscious on the floor with your wrists broken."
"Found? How were they found? They were big men."
"In the front trunk of a Volkswagen suffering traumatic hemorrhaging and severe bodily fractures."
"Which means what?"
"Squashed to jelly, sir."
"I figured. Okay. Make a phone call."
"I'm not allowed to. You're supposed to be sedated."
"Don't give me that shit. There's a sawbuck in it for you."
"I'm not going to violate my sacred nurse's pledge for a ten-dollar bill."