Episode 3.2

"Here you go," Oz says, slapping Charlie's chest with a blue and white Continental Airlines envelope. I open mine; Charlie does the same with his. Flight 201. Tonight, direct to Miami.

"You didn't put us next to each other, did you?" -I ask.

Oz shoots me with the same do you think I'm a jerk look that I usually get from Charlie. Still, now is not the time to take risks.

"25C," I tell my brother.

He looks at his bill.

—7B. Turning to Oz, Charlie adds, He has put me in one of the middle seats, right?

Oz rolls his eyes. That has always been the best magic trick in Charlie's vast arsenal. Get them to keep talking. Leaning over to the laminating machine on top of a stack of boxes, Oz picks up the foil wrapper and opens it.

"Remember those sadly forged ID cards that allowed you to buy beer when you were in high school?" he brags. Well, here you have a masterpiece...

Like a cop flashing his badge in a flash, Oz waves the laminated card under our noses. There's no mistaking it as a perfect New Jersey driver's license, complete with my picture and my brand new black hair.

"Excellent," Charlie says.

Oz tells us that we must choose names that are easy to remember. Charlie chooses Sonny Rollins, jazz teacher and legend. Mine will be Walter Harvey, my father's first and middle names. Physically and nominally Charlie and I have ceased to be brothers.

Charlie kisses the photograph of him.

"Mmmmmmm, mmmmm...what an adorable boy..."

"But they're not infallible documents," Oz warns us in his best Hoboken accent. As I usually tell everyone, don't push your luck too hard with this ID. It can get them on the plane... and maybe a motel... but it will only get them as far as...

-What does it mean? He interrupted him.

"It's just the way the world turns," Oz explains. No matter how fast they think they are, there are three things that always end up giving them away: ego, greed, and sex. Aware that he has our full attention, his high-pitched voice quickens. The ego: you talk to the waiter; you are a bore with the maitre d'. This is how a guy in the restaurant remembers you and gives your address to the police. Greed: you buy yourself a big and expensive watch; you eat five lobsters at one dinner. This is how the guy behind the bar will recognize your photo.

And sex: boy, that's why all the clichés

be true. There's nothing like a jilted woman.

"See this bleached blonde hair?" Charlie asks, pointing to his head. And his horrible nest of blackbirds? He adds, pointing at me. From this moment on, women are the least of our worries.

"So including the trip and everything else," she interrupted, "how much time do you think we have before people find out we've skipped town?"

Oz turns to the computer and examines Charlie's fake driver's license, who is still watching us from the screen.

"Hard to say," Oz says as his voice deepens. Depending on who they are running from.

"What do you mean Wonder Bread?" Noreen asked through her cell phone.

"Wonder Bread," Joey repeated as he drove back through the streets of Brooklyn. As in yawning... as in boredom... as in whiter than white. I tell you, whatever Oliver saw in her... that girl is just as hot as Snow White. I knew it the moment I walked into her apartment: floral upholstered sofa, with

matching cushions, with a matching rug, with a matching trolley table, with a matching Monet poster on the wall...

"Hey, don't make fun of Monet...

"It was Water Lilies," Joey interrupted.

There was a pause.

"Then you should have killed her right there."

"You don't understand," Joey insisted. Not that there's anything wrong with her. She's a nice girl and she smiles and she's pretty... but, that's all. From time to time she blinks. There is nothing else.

"Maybe she's an introverted girl. "I asked her to tell me some funny story about Oliver, and all she could think of was 'She's nice' and 'She's sweet.' It's all the enthusiasm she can show.

"Okay, so she's probably not involved in the sibling thing. Did she tell you anything else about Oliver?

"See, that's what baffles me," Joey said as the car hit the potholes that littered Avenue U. Oliver may be a nice guy, but if he's dating Beth he can't be too reckless.

-I mean?

"So he thinks about how that fits with the rest of the pieces: We have a twenty-six-year-old guy who controls spending and saves to fulfill his golden dream of getting out of Brooklyn. He gets his little brother a job, pays off his mom's mortgage, and basically plays the daddy role all the time. At work, he spends four years playing Fridays for Lapidus, hoping it's a turnaround on the road to stardom. It's clear that he has much higher aspirations, but is he leaving his job to start his own company? Not even remotely. He prefers to apply to the School of Business Administration and take the safe road to wealth...

"Maybe Lapidus wanted him to go to the School of Business Administration."

"It's not just about school, Noreen. Pay attention to all the details. In Oliver's recycling bin I found a subscription to SpeedRead. Do you know what that means? Getting no response from Noreen, Joey explained. These people publish a monthly booklet summarizing all the major books dealing with the world of business so you can make smart comments at parties. In Oliver's world, he really thinks that's important. He believes that the system works. For that reason he waits in line...and for that reason he dates Beth.

I'm not sure I'm following you...

"And I'm not sure if there's anything to go on," Joey admitted. I can't explain it... it's just... the guys who date the Beths of this world... are the last people capable of planning a three hundred million dollar heist.

"Wait a minute," Noreen said, "so now you think they're...

"They're not innocent," Joey insisted. If they were, they wouldn't be running away. But for Oliver to have left the quiet little corner of his...it's clear there's something else we're missing. People don't change their way of life unless they have a damn good reason.

"If he makes you feel any better, Fudge told me we'll probably have more about the investigation tomorrow."

"Perfect," Joey said, turning onto Bedford Avenue. Unlike the last time he'd been in the area, the light gray sky was now dark as night, making it look less like a neighborhood and more like a pitch-black alley. Despite everything, even in the dark, one detail stood out from the rest of the landscape: the phone company van parked in front of the building where Maggie Caruso lived. Joey slowed as they approached, passed the truck, and looked into her rearview mirror. In the front seats were two officers.

-Everything's fine? Noreen asked from the other end of the line.

"I'll tell you in a moment.

Joey drove to the middle of the block, then hid the car in a driveway diagonally across from the building and cut the engine. Close enough to be able to see what was happening, but far enough not to be discovered. She looked at the van and knew it didn't make sense. Clandestine jobs were supposed to last a few minutes, it was a matter of getting in and out. If those guys were still in the apartment, something was up. Maybe they had found something, Joey thought. Or maybe they were waiting for...

Before she could finish the thought, tires squealed and a car turned the corner.

-What's going on? Noreen asked.

"Shhhhhh," Joey whispered, though Noreen's voice only came through the earpiece. The car was moving at high speed, but it wasn't just someone passing by on that street. After passing the phone company van, the car skidded to a stop in front of a fire hydrant. Joey shook her head. She must have imagined it.

The doors were flung open and Gallo and DeSanctis stepped out into the night air. Without saying a word, DeSanctis opened the back door and held out his hand to Maggie Caruso. Getting out of the car, the woman's shoulders were slumped, her chin trembled, and her coat was open. DeSanctis walked her toward the building's entrance, but even though she was only a silhouette at this distance, it was clear the woman was in trouble. She couldn't climb the stairs without help. Those guys must have screwed her up, Joey thought.

"I'll be up in a sec," Gallo called as he came around behind the trunk. But just as Maggie and DeSanctis disappeared into the building, he started toward the van.

The driver rolled down the window and Gallo shook his hand. At first it just seemed like a thank you between friends—a quick nod; their heads thrown back as they laughed—but then Gallo froze. His body tensed and the driver gave him something.

-Since when? Rooster asked with a growl.

The driver reached out of the window and pointed up the street. Straight to Joey.

"Shit," she whispered.

Gallo turned and her eyes met. Joey felt a lump in her throat. Gallo's dark gaze pierced her as if she were a knife.

"What the hell do you think he's doing?" Rooster roared, heading for the car.

"Joey, are you okay?" Noreen asked.

There was no time to answer. Joey thought about starting the car, but it was too late. Rooster was already there. Thick knuckles rapped on the window glass.

"Open up," she commanded.

Joey knew how he should act; he lowered the window glass.

"I'm not breaking the law," he said. I have my license...

"Fuck the license... what the hell was he doing in that apartment?"

Looking Gallo square in the eye, Joey ran his tongue behind his teeth.

"Sorry, I don't know what he's talking about.

"Don't play stupid!" Gallo warned him. You know very well that he has no jurisdiction!

"I'm just doing my job," Joey replied. He pulled a leather briefcase from his pocket and showed her his private investigator's license. And last time I checked, there's no law against...

Gallo reached through the window, grabbed the license, and tossed it flying into the opposite window.

"Listen to me! he exploded in Joey's face. I don't give a damn about his student's license, if he pokes his nose into this investigation again, I'll personally drag his ass off the Brooklyn Bridge!

Stunned by the sudden outburst of anger, Joey remained silent. Law enforcement were always very touchy about jurisdiction...but in the secret service...they didn't lose their nerve like that. Not without good reason.

-Anything else? Joey asked.

Gallo glared at her, reached into the car, and dropped a Ziploc bag full of smashed electronics into Joey's lap. All your microphones and transmitters absolutely useless.

"Trust me, Miss Lemont, don't play with fire.