Memories of Midnight

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even suggested it. The only reason I thought of it was because it could save your life." Rizzoli stood up and stretched. "Well, it’s getting late. I guess your wife will be wondering where you are."

Victor Korontzis was staring at him. "It could save my life? How?"

"It’s simple. If you took one of those antiques…"

"Antiquities."

"…antiquities…and gave it to me, I could get it out of the country and sell it for you, and give Prizzi the money you owe him. I think I could persuade him to hold off that long. And you’d be off the hook. I don’t have to tell you that I’d be taking a big risk for you, because if I got caught I’d be in a lot of trouble. But I’m offering to do it because I feel I owe you one. It’s my fault you got into this mess."

"You’re a good friend," Victor Korontzis said. "But I can’t blame you. I didn’t have to get in that game. You were trying to do me a favor."

"I know. I just wish it had turned out differently. Well, let’s get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night, Victor."

"Good night, Tony."

The call came in to the museum early the following morning. "Korontzis?"

"Yes?"

"This is Sal Prizzi."

"Good morning, Mr. Prizzi."

"I’m callin’ about that little matter of sixty-five thousand dollars. What time can I pick it up?"

Victor Korontzis began to perspire heavily. "I…I don’t have the money right now, Mr. Prizzi."

There was an ominous silence at the other end of the phone. "What the hell kind of game are you playing with me?"

"Believe me, I’m not playing any games. I…"

"Then I want my fucking money. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"What time does your museum close?"

"Six…six o’clock."

"I’ll be there. Have the money for me, or I’ll break your face in. And after that, I’m really going to hurt you."

The line went dead.

Victor Korontzis sat there in a panic. He wanted to hide. But where? He was engulfed by a feeling of total desperation, caught in a vortex of "ifs": If only I hadn’t gone to the casino that night; if only I had never met Tony Rizzoli; if only I had kept my promise to my wife never to gamble again. He shook his head to clear it. I have to do something – now.

And at that moment, Tony Rizzoli walked into his office. "Good morning, Victor."

It was six-thirty. The staff had gone home, and the museum had been closed for half an hour. Victor Korontzis and Tony Rizzoli were watching the front door.

Korontzis was getting increasingly nervous. "What if he says no? What if he wants his money tonight?"

"I’ll handle him," Tony Rizzoli said. "Just let me do the talking."

"What if he doesn’t show up? What if he just…you know…sends someone to kill me? Do you think he would do that?"

"Not as long as he has a chance of getting his money," Rizzoli said confidently.

At seven o’clock, Sal Prizzi finally appeared.

Korontzis hurried over to the door and opened it. "Good evening," he said.

Prizzi looked at Rizzoli. "What the fuck are you doin’ here?" He turned back to Victor Korontzis. "This is just between us."

"Take it easy," Rizzoli said. "I’m here to help."

"I don’t need your help." Prizzi turned to Korontzis. "Where’s my money?"

"I…I don’t have it. But…"

Prizzi grabbed him by the throat. "Listen, you little prick. You’ll give me that money tonight, or I’m going to feed you to the fish. Do you understand?"

Tony Rizzoli said, "Hey, cool down. You’re going to get your money."

Prizzi turned on him. "I told you to stay out of this. It’s none of your business."

"I’m making it my business. I’m Victor’s friend. Victor doesn’t have the cash right now, but he has a way to get it for you."

"Has he got the money, or hasn’t he?"

"He has, and he hasn’t," Rizzoli said.

"What the hell kind of answer is that?"

Tony Rizzoli’s arm swept around the room. "The money’s there."

Sal Prizzi scanned the room. "Where?"

"In those cases. They’re full of antiques…"

"Antiquities," Korontzis said automatically.

"…that are worth a fortune. I’m talking about millions."

"Yeah?" Prizzi turned to look at the cases. "What good are they going to do me if they’re locked away in a museum? I want cash."

"You’re going to get cash," Rizzoli said soothingly. "Twice what our friend owes you. You just have to be a little patient, that’s all. Victor’s not a welsher. He just needs a little more time. I’ll tell you his plan. Victor’s going to take one of these antiques…antiquities…and arrange to sell it. As soon as he gets the money, he’ll pay you."

Sal Prizzi shook his head. "I don’t like it. I don’t know nothing about this antique stuff."

"You don’t have to. Victor’s one of the world’s greatest experts." Tony Rizzoli walked over to one of the cases and pointed to a marble head. "What would you say that’s worth, Victor?"

Victor Korontzis swallowed. "That’s the goddess Hygea, fourteenth century B.C. Any collector would gladly pay two or three million dollars for it."

Rizzoli turned to Sal Prizzi. "There you are. See what I mean?"

Prizzi frowned. "I don’t know. How long would I have to wait?"

"You’ll have double your money inside a month."

Prizzi thought a moment, then nodded. "Okay, but if I have to wait a month, I want more – say an extra couple of hundred grand."