Big Mango (9786167611037) by Jake Needham Page B

and
savoring the taste, Wuntz gave out with a deep sigh that seemed to
chase the smoke away.
    “Your visitors were legit. This guy Reidy is
in charge of some kind of task force at the Treasury Department
that no one seems to know much about. They gave it a really weird
name though. Why would they name a federal task force after an old
Dean Martin song?”
    Eddie looked puzzled. “What are you talking
about, Wuntz?”
    “Volare, it’s called. Task Force Volare. You
know…”
    Wuntz tilted his head back, and to Eddie’s
complete astonishment began to sing in a remarkably rich and
vibrant baritone.
     
    Volare …oh oh
E contare…oh oh oh oh
No wonder my happy heart sings
Your love has…
     
    An elderly Chinese woman shuffling past
swivelled her head to stare at Wuntz and he slid into a chastened
silence.
    “It’s Voltaire, Wuntz,” Eddie said
quietly.
    “No, man. I’ve heard the song a thousand
times. It’s Volare.”
    “Not the song. The name of the task force.
It’s called Voltaire.”
    Wuntz looked baffled. “What’s a
Voltaire?”
    “Jesus,” Winnebago grunted, “don’t cops read
anything but comic books? Voltaire was a French writer noted for
his satire who was the soul of the eighteenth-century French
enlightenment.”
    Wuntz looked hurt. “Myself, I don’t think the
French are all that enlightened now . Christ knows what they
must have been like in the eighteenth century.”
    Winnebago tried to catch Eddie’s eye, but
Eddie was chewing his lip and looking off into the night.
    “Anyway,” Wuntz went on, clearing his
throat,”what’s Voltaire or Volare or whatever the fuck it is
supposed to mean?” He addressed the question to Eddie,
conspicuously ignoring Winnebago.
    “Reidy said the plan to get the money out of
Vietnam before the North Vietnamese took over was called Operation
Voltaire.”
    “It was, huh?” Wuntz thought about that for a
moment. “And who was doing this planning?”
    “A marine captain.”
    “Not—”
    “Yeah, him.”
    Wuntz was silent for a moment and then he
asked a question Eddie had already asked himself a couple of times.
“Voltaire doesn’t sound like the name of a military operation to
me. What’s it mean?”
    “No idea,” Eddie said.
    Winnebago leaned across Eddie, getting as
close to Wuntz as he could. “Voltaire wrote Candide in 1759,
one of the masterpieces of—”
    “Shut the fuck up,” Wuntz snarled.
    “Can you ask your DEA guy if he knows
anything about Reidy’s task force?” Eddie asked Wuntz.
    “I think I’ve squeezed all the juice I’m
going to get out of that little fruit. So to speak.”
    “I was almost hoping the feds would turn out
to be phonies. If they’re real, the pictures must have come from
somebody else.”
    “Yeah, that’s the way I figure it, too,”
Wuntz said, bobbing his head around a little. “I’d say it’s pretty
much a sure thing that you’ve got someone else on your ass about
the same deal.”
    “Like who?” Winnebago demanded, stubbing out
his cigarette.
    “You want to get something to eat?” Wuntz
asked Eddie, still ignoring Winnebago. He scratched himself and
sniffed the air. “Fuck, that pizza smell down here in North Beach
always drives me crazy.”
    “Why would anybody who thought I might know
where the money is send me those pictures?” Eddie asked as if Wuntz
hadn’t spoken. “I don’t see the point.”
    “It’s not all that hard to figure out.” Wuntz
sniffed half-heartedly at the air one more time and then sighed in
resignation. “What would you do if you wanted to find out where
something was and the guy who knew wasn’t about to tell you?”
    “I guess I’d get someone to slap the guy
around a little. Beat it out of him.”
    Winnebago’s eyes went glassy and he reached
for his cigarettes again.
    “Nah, that never works,” Wuntz shook his head
firmly. “At least not if the guy has enough incentive to keep his
mouth shut and just take the beating. And I think we can agree