because it’s empty it just floats up in a circle and gently spirals to the ground. Even his anger is impotent.
Sean walks to the mirror and leans his back against it. Oversized Guy stares at me, leans forward and says so quietly it seems like he wants no one else in the room to hear, “So, where are we right now?”
I think for a moment and carefully select my words. “You got two choices,” I say. “You can meet my demands—I only ask three simple things—or the list goes public, which I imagine would result in you having to relocate every single person in WITSEC at the exact same time, seems like the only option you’d have after I made sure the list was widely disseminated.”
“You’re out of your freaking mind,” Ciacco says.
“How much does it cost to relocate a witness?” I ask.
“That information is classified.”
“About a hundred grand,” Sean says, rubbing his temples. “Minimum.”
“Wow,” I say. “So we’re talking about hundreds of millions of dollars in relocations. Does Justice have that kind of extra cash in its budget?”
Oversized Guy responds calmly again, though his voice is slightly louder. “So let me get this straight: You’re trying to extort the Department of Justice?”
“Don’t patronize me. When we do it, it’s extortion. When you guys do it, it’s leverage. I don’t care what you call it. It’s real, either way.”
Ellen rests back in her chair, covers her mouth, and mutters, “There are women and children in this program. The lives you’re risking.”
I smile a little. “Shameful, isn’t it.”
“You psychopath,” she says. “How can you do this?”
“I’m not. I’ll bet you a dollar you meet my demands.”
The room falls silent. Even the ventilation stops blowing air. We can hear one another swallow, can notice the rustling of fabric whenever someone moves.
Oversized Guy finally summons the courage to ask the question that suggests they might consider my request: “What is it you want?”
I stare at him, clearly the only person I need to convince. “One: I want to be put into the program. I want—”
“Why?”
His question catches me off guard. I see no value in being dishonest with them, so I summarize: “Because I want out. I want the chance to start over. I love my family, but being a member is going to be the death of me. I’m sick of the day in and day out of it. My entire life has been spent with my father trying to ‘find my place’ in the organization. I want to build something that’s more than just a means to advance criminal activity. I want a shot at normalcy.”
“You will not live a normal life in the program.”
“Normal enough.” I look around the room, would never want to be in this place under any other circumstances. “And as part of being put in Witness Protection, I want it stated—publicly—that I’m turning on my family.”
Oversized Guy squints, tries to figure my spin. “Why would you want that?”
I wave my hand and run my fingers through my hair. “I just do.” The truth ends here. I cannot explain this component of my plan, that despite how it will confuse my family, I need some way for Melody to find out what I’ve done, to read it in a paper or see it on television, that I claimed to have killed her—that she is forever free.
“What else?”
“Two: Protect Gardner’s wife and kids. He told me he started working with another family in New York, which means he’ll be dead in a matter of weeks. No one else could ever tolerate Randall the way I did.”
“And let me guess: Your third request is to put Gravina in the program?”
“Nope. Should he survive beyond this afternoon, you’ve got my endorsement to have a field day with that bastard.” Everything that went wrong in Tenafly I can map back to him, how he was tracking Melody and using a federal witness—Sean’s precious rule-breaking—to bring us down, and nearly to her death. “My third request will be the bitterest pill: You lay off my family. You stand down.” And Pete gets his chain of candy stores.
Everyone sighs and groans and shifts in their seats.
“We’re done,” Ciacco says, stands again.
I turn to Oversized Guy and say, “Since he’s not really a player, I’m gonna ask that the Pig be excused. He’s going to get a lot of innocent people killed.”
The big man takes a thick breath that sounds like a snore, says, “Everyone knows we couldn’t possibly relocate thousands of people at