“And what does Cohen do? He comes along giving you some ideas once Jones backs off his percentage of the illegals, the protection racket, the sex workers. I bet he fed your delusions of grandeur.”
Eve rose, circled the table, leaned down. “You can take him down? Is that what Cohen told you? I’ll help you. Give me a cut when you’re in charge, and I’ll be your consigliere. Something like that? Don’t worry, he didn’t bump you back because he’s working to cut Jones a deal in this. He’s trying to cut one for himself, with the feds. Tax evasion, fraud, all kinds of goodies. And rolling on you? It’s just part of the negotiation.”
“They’re dead. They’re dead men.”
“Mr. Jorgenson—”
“Shut up, you worthless piece of shit. Shut the fuck up.”
“Would you kill them yourself if you could get to them, Bolt? Or would you order another couple of idiots to do it like you did with Pickering, Duff, Aimes?”
“They’re dead. Slice, Cohen, Snapper, Ticker. Dead.”
“Big talk, big talk from a guy who got his ass kicked by his own sister.”
“You shut the fuck up.”
“Did you know that one, Quentin? He physically assaulted his mother, and his sister gave him an ass kicking. You’re here because, while the family didn’t file charges, they kicked him hard to the curb, so he can’t tap them for money for a lawyer.”
“You don’t know dick.” Jorgenson snarled it, tried to take a swing at Eve, but the restraints stopped him.
“Temper, temper,” she said. “I had a little conversation with your sister, Bolt. I know plenty. Oh, and the staff sergeant doesn’t send her regards.”
“She’s a lying bitch, just like my lying whore of a mother.”
“I don’t think Bolt likes women much,” Eve said pleasantly to Reo. “He might be afraid of them. You couldn’t even take out the junkie you were having sex with, could you? You told them to rape the shit out of her, didn’t you, to beat her to death and leave her where you figured Slice couldn’t ignore it.”
“I’m not the one afraid. Slice is.”
He raged it out. In the zone, Eve thought again. But Jorgenson’s zone was fury.
“If he had balls, Fan Ho and the rest would be dead. But he’s got no balls.”
“It’s why you picked the neutral zone, but Slice didn’t bite. Did you plan to use her, then have her killed back when you started banging her?”
“Don’t—”
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted at Quentin. “You think I’d stick it to that junkie whore, listen to her whiny ass because I liked it?”
“No.” Eve circled the table again. “You did it because she had two uses for you. To help you get to Pickering, and to die bloody. I get that. I get that. What I don’t get is Pickering. Why? He wasn’t part of the gang anymore. He wasn’t a threat, and I can’t see how he’d be a tool.”
“Slice let him walk, just walk away like he was better than us. Nobody walks away from us like that. I said we need to tune him up good, make him pay a price, and Slice? He says no. He says the asshole’s off-limits, how he was a fine lieutenant, and how he’ll come back when he’s tired of living the bullshit life.”
“And Slice, he’d have put him over you, wouldn’t he? Put him at a higher rank.”
“I said fuck that. Slice even goes to see him at his work sometimes, like friends. He wants a friend outside? I showed him what happens.”
“So you ordered Pickering killed to strike back at Slice, to make an example, and because of their connection, to bring the cops sniffing around Slice.”
“You came, didn’t you? Cohen said it had to look like an accident.”
Eve sat again. “Did he?”
“I said we’ll cut him up good, plant the knife on Jones, but Cohen said make it look like he OD’d. The cops would still come. Slice would still look weak. So I told those motherfuckers what to do, and they can’t do it right? Have to take shit out of the place?”
“You did tell them to mess Dinnie up though.”
“Bitch had to go hard or no point. Cohen says now fucking just kill her like we did Pick, but I say it’s going to be done right.”