The skills Tony Sutera had learned might have to come back into play, if anyone threatened Rene.
Please, God, I don't want to be Tony anymore, Vic prayed as he listened to Uncle Pauly wheeze and sigh, with a background of what sounded like race track hustle and bustle. What was the old man doing at the track? He wasn't allowed, because race track betting was like a crack addiction for him.
If this was a trap, wouldn't his enemies know that he would know Uncle Pauly had a price on his head if he went near the track? Meaning they would know he wouldn't trust anyone claiming to be Uncle Pauly, calling from the track. Meaning they wouldn't try such a trick. So maybe… maybe this was legit?
"This is his Uncle Pauly," the old man said on a moan. "You tell him Jason gave me a package to deliver to him. Jason says something about gabardine."
"It's Gethsemane, Uncle Pauly," a sweet little female voice corrected, the speaker standing close enough to get picked up by the phone. "Jason said the code word is Gethsemane."
Vic nearly dropped the phone. He turned to lean his back against the creaky plastic shelving and closed his eyes. Pieces of Tony resurrected, analyzing the sounds, while another part of him dropped to his metaphorical knees and started praying.