The Five Year Plan (1998)

'How are things here, Mister Nudelli?'

'Louis, we'd like two pieces of pecan pie. And I'd like you to serve them to us yourself. Understand?'

'Yes sir. Right away. It'd be my pleasure.'

The maitre d' disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

'Jimmy, let me ask you something.'

'Sure, Tony.' He chuckled as he caught sight of the cowed waiter. 'I'm all ears.'

Nudelli glanced angrily after him.

'Fuckin' dipshit. Whassa matter with waiters in this country? It's not enough you give 'em a tip. They want your goddamn assurance that you don't think any the less of them for what they're doing to make a buck.'

'Don't start me on waiters. The other day I order a steak at the Delano? And when the waiter brings it he tells me that the vegetables will be along in just a few minutes. I tell the guy, What is this? Am I supposed to eat this meal in instalments?'

Figaro laughed at his own story and laughed some more when he saw that it had amused Nudelli. Only he wished he'd thought to substitute another restaurant for the Delano. It was one of the smartest on South Beach, beloved of Madonna and Stallone, but the name didn't help to take Nudelli's mind off the one thing that was obsessing him right now, which was Dave Delano.

'What was it that you wanted to ask me, Tony? Before we got started on shitty waiters.'

'Just this. What's the statute of limitations on murder?'

'There is no statute of limitations on murder.'

'And that's precisely my point. Suppose Delano does decide to talk to the Feds?'

'Take a chill pill, Tony. Delano's no snitch.'

'Hear me out Jimmy, like a good lawyer. Just suppose he does. For whatever reason. Let's for the sake of argument assume that he holds my ass responsible for his period of incarceration. After all, jail does funny things to a man. Turns him queer. Makes him vengeful. Maybe he wants to take my quarter-mill and my liberty with it. I mean, what's to stop him? Just answer me that, will ya?'

'He probably holds me more responsible than anyone,' shrugged Figaro. 'After all, it was me representing him before that jury. But he isn't going to do it, Tony.'

'No, no, we're not talking predictive sequences here. We're addressing a hypothetical situation. You understand? Like we was two philosophers in a Roman sauna bath. What is there in the way of hard facts that enables us to say that it won't ever happen that Dave Delano won't decide to snitch? Wait, wait. I thought of something. Suppose he does something wrong. A crime. And the cops arrest him. His ass is going down for it. But he might not want to do any more time. And who could blame the guy after five years in the joint? Not me, for sure. But maybe, knowing this, the Feds figure to scare him into telling them what he shoulda told 'em in the first place. Trade his ass for mine.'

Nudelli slapped the table hard like he was killing a fly just as the maitre d' arrived bearing two pecan pies.

'What's to stop him doing that, huh, Jimmy?'

'Here we are Mister Nudelli. Pecan pie.'

'Thanks Louis.'

'My pleasure, sir. Enjoy.'

'Well, when you put it as coldly as that Tony--'

'I do put it as coldly as that, in a frosted glass with ice in it. What's to stop him, eh?'

Figaro gouged a piece of pie onto his fork, but he left it lying on his plate for a moment.

'Nothing. Except maybe he's more afraid of you than he is of the cops.'

Nudelli raised his large hairy hands into the air and gestured in a way that reminded Figaro of the Pope benevolently greeting the faithful from the balcony of St Peter's on Christmas Day. But the lawyer could see that there was nothing particularly benevolent about the way this conversation was headed.

'You see? Maybe. We're back with uncertainty again. You put your finger right on it, Jimmy. Maybe. Now put yourself in my position. I gotta family to look after, a business to run, people whose livelihoods depend on me.' He sighed with loud exasperation and forked a piece of pie into his mouth. 'You know what the problem is here? Language. The corruption of the fuckin' language. Words don't mean what they used to because of all the fuckin' minorities we gotta tiptoe around -- like we can't say this and we can't say that -- and because of all the politicians who use language to say nothing at all. I give you a for instance, Jimmy. A guy says to a girl "Will you let me fuck you?" Now if she says "Maybe", you know it's a real possibility. But if you were to say to some politician, "Will you build more schools and more hospitals if we vote you into office?" and he says "Maybe", then you know for sure that he ain't gonna do it. For him, maybe means never. You see what I'm saying?'