Harold Robbins Organized Crime Double

by Harold Robbins

  “Carson tells me you got a tough rap to beat and you don’t have much of a chance to beat it. You’ll be lucky with five years in the can and two off if you’re a good boy.”

  Louie was sore. His face darkened, and he got out of his chair and walked over to me. “Your goddamn lawyer is full of crap!” he shouted. “I can beat it. I got ways.”

  I was waiting for him to get sore. I walked around in front of my desk and faced him. “Listen, Louie,” I said flatly, “you haven’t the chance of a snowball in hell of beating that rap, and you know it! If you’re thinkin’ any ways else, you’d better forget it.

  “If you’re thinkin’ of cookin’ up a deal with the Feds and rattin’ on us, we don’t give you a chance to get to the can to serve your sentence. So play it smart.” I turned my back on him and faced the others. “And that goes for the rest of you guys who were hooked. Play it straight and we’ll protect your business for you. Play it dirty and you’ll shovel coal.

  “We’re gonna hang together, remember that—hang together.”

  They were silent, so I went back behind my desk and sat down and watched them for a minute or two. Then I began to speak again. I spoke more quietly and easily. “What’s done is done and we can’t do anything about it. But those of you that haven’t been touched had better be careful.

  “If you guys are married, go home to your wives every night. Stay out of crap games and card games and any gamblin’ joints you’re interested in. I don’t want any of you guys pinched for anything—not even disturbin’ the peace.

  “If you got any tail you’re keepin’ on the side, get rid of it. Send the broads to Florida for their health. You don’t want to keep anyone around who might give the coppers a line on you.” I looked over at Schutz. He was keeping two frails in the same building on Park Avenue in different apartments. Neither knew of the other, and if his wife knew of either there would be hell to pay. I turned to Jensen. “If you’re smokin’ around with any hot stuff, take my advice and keep away from it.” Jensen knew what I meant. His passion for stolen gimmicks like jewels and hot cars was fairly well known. All you had to do to sell him anything was to tell him it was hot. He would smell a bargain and run after it until he was suckered in. I looked at the others. “If you got investments in any cathouses, get rid of them. It may cost you a little cabbage now, but better a little now than everything later.

  “Remember this: for every one of you that gets clipped, it gets tougher for the rest of us to operate. If they get enough of you, the rest of us will be out of business.”

  I paused a moment and lit a cigarette. “If any of you guys don’t get what I’m sayin’, it’s gonna be tough on yuh. You’ve never had things so soft in your whole life. Don’t kill it now.”

  I stood up. “Any questions?”

  Fennelli got up and walked up to the desk. He stood there, slim, suave and cool, his customary black Homburg perched delicately on his head. “What do we do if they nail you?”

  That was a question I had been waiting for. I faced him. “If they nail me—which I don’t think is gonna happen—my advice to you guys is to pack up and go. Without me around to look after you guys, they’re gonna pick you off like flies.”

  He smiled. He thought he had me there. “We got along before you came in.”

  “You did?” It was my turn to smile. “You mean you were lucky to get along before I came in. You were lucky to live till then with the amount of lead you caught. If you want to go back to that, you’re welcome to it.” I looked past him to the others. “You guys depend on me as much as I depend on you. If I go down, you’ll all go down. If you go down, so will I.”

  I stopped for a moment. “And just one more thing. Don’t any of you guys get trigger happy. If you start shootin’ with the cops, we’re cooked. If we play it safe and quiet, it will all blow over. If we don’t they’ll blow us over.

  “Any more questions?” I stood there waiting.

  There weren’t any and the meeting was over. I watched them file out talking. I wasn’t kidding myself; these babies weren’t going to do anything for me. They had to be made to realize that if they sold me short, they would lose their shirts.

  But I knew what they had in the back of their minds, and they’d do it if they thought they could get away with it.

  66

  I let myself into my apartment about eleven o’clock. Two days had passed since Ruth had been here, but I could still feel the imprint of her presence in the place. I swore to myself. I was getting soft when a dame could do this to me. I had never let any broad get close to me since Marianne, and I didn’t want to now.

  I turned up the radio and listened to it for a while. Then the telephone rang. It was the desk clerk. “A Mr. Allison is here to see you.”

  “O.K.,” I said, “send him up.” Maybe he had changed his mind.

  A few minutes later there was a knock at the door and I let him in. “Hello, Allison,” I said, “what’s on your mind?”

  “This is official business, Mr. Kane,” he said as he entered the room.

  I crossed to the couch, pointed a chair for him, and offered him a drink. He refused. I helped myself. “What do you want to know?” I asked quietly.

  He watched me intently for a minute before he spoke. Then he chose his words carefully. “I’ve worked for you about eight months,” he said slowly.

  I nodded but didn’t answer.

  He went on, still speaking slowly. “I know as well as anyone just what your business is, but there are a few things I would like to know for my own satisfaction. Not only for mine, but what you may tell me may be to your benefit.”

  “Shoot!” I said. “I’ll answer them if I can.” I lifted my glass to my lips and took a swallow of the highball and wondered what was coming.

  He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and crossed the fingers of one hand with the other. “Have you any connection with the shylocks in New York?”

  “No,” I answered. I didn’t. The shylocks were one of the by-products of the business, and I didn’t bother with them.

  “The opinion generally assumed differs with yours,” he pointed out.

  “I’m aware of that,” I replied, “but I can’t help what people say. My business is peculiar in that respect. I can’t sue anyone for slander.”

  “How about organized vice?” he asked.

  “If you mean women, dope and that sort of thing,” I said, “you can count me out. I’m broad-minded but I’m no pimp.”

  “Then your only interests are in gambling?” he continued.

  “My main interests,” I admitted. He knew that anyway. “Principally bookmaking, but I have several others.”

  He leaned back and thought for a moment. “I think I will take that drink if the offer still holds,” he said, smiling a little.

  I poured the drink for him without comment. He still hadn’t told me why he had come. We sat there silently for a while watching each other. He looked around the apartment. I let him look. He would talk some more when he was ready, and I could wait until he did.

  “How long have you known Ruth Cabell?”

  The question surprised me. I stalled. “For some time,” I answered.

  “She seems to think a great deal of you,” he said.

  “You spoke to her?” I asked. I wondered just how much she had told him.

  “Yesterday,” he said. “Why did she come to see you under an assumed name?”

  “She’s a social worker,” I said. “I suppose she thought if she gave her true name I wouldn’t see her. You know how they are. She was interested in reforming me.” I laughed easily.

  “I see,” he said slowly. He wasn’t through yet. “How did you happen to meet her?”

  You got to take a chance sometimes. “At Bellevue Hospital about six years ago.” I lit a cigarette. “I was sick. I had passed out on the street and was taken to the hospital—malnutrition. I hadn’t eaten for quite a while, had been out of work, sleeping in hallways, subways an
d public toilets for several months, and I suppose she felt sorry for me.”

  He nodded. “I could guess as much from what she told me. You must have had a fairly rugged time of it.”

  I was right. She didn’t spill. I smiled and borrowed his phrase. “It was rugged,” I admitted.

  He finished his drink, put the empty glass down, and stood up. “I guess that’s all I had to ask.”

  I stood up with him. “There’s no need to rush off,” I said. “Why don’t you stick around awhile?”

  “I’ve got to get back to New York,” he said, walking toward the door.

  I walked with him. At the door he picked up his coat and threw it over his arm. Once more he looked around the room. Suddenly he turned to me and smiled. “You know, Mr. Kane,” he said, “you would do just as well as this in almost any other line of business.”

  I smiled. “Maybe. But this one gave me a chance. The others didn’t.”

  “You can still try,” he said.

  I knew what he meant. If I got out now before they could touch me, I’d probably be all right. “I’ll play my hand out,” I said. “I’d be a fool to quit with the cards I’ve got.”

  “Sometimes your cards aren’t as good as you think they are. Then you go to the cleaners.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “You can’t win all the time,” I said. “I know that much.”

  “O.K.,” he said, turning to leave. “It’s your funeral.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” he said.

  I smiled at that. He was polite anyway. That was more than you got from the local coppers; there was something to be said for the Feds taking college men. “It’s all right, drop in anytime.” I smiled, closing the door on him.

  I turned and went back into the room. I hesitated for a moment, then went to the telephone and called Ruth. A man’s voice answered the phone. “Dr. Cabell.”

  “Is Miss Cabell in?” I asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Marty answered. “Can I take a message?”

  I thought for a second, then said: “No, thanks. I’ll call back.”

  “Wait a minute,” Marty said quickly, “is this Frank?”

  I was surprised for the second time that night. What the hell! Did the whole town know she saw me? After I thought about it, I realized she would tell her brother anyway. “Yes,” I answered.

  His voice became excited. “Frank,” he said, “this is Marty. How are you, boy?”

  I kept my voice level and cool. “I know who it is.”

  He paid no attention to the sound in my voice, but went on, still excited: “Jesus, fella, I’d like to see you!”

  I couldn’t resist the contagion in his voice. “That’s nice of yuh, kid,” I said, my tone softening, “but it isn’t very good for yuh to do that just now. It may lead to too many things.”

  “You mean Jerry?” he asked. “The hell with what he thinks! After all, we were friends.”

  “I don’t mean Jerry,” I said. “I mean me.”

  “Oh!” Disappointment was evident in his voice. “Can’t we meet somewhere on the quiet and talk? No one would know about it. Ruth told me she saw you. Nothing came of that.”

  He was right about that but in the wrong way. “That’s what I called to speak to Ruth about. A Federal agent was just in to see me. He had already spoken to her, and I wanted to find out what she had told him.”

  “I didn’t know that,” he said. “She didn’t tell me.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have time,” I offered as an excuse for her. “Maybe he just saw her today. I’m sorry, kid, but I don’t think we can do it.”

  “I see,” he said quietly. “Shall I tell Ruth to call you when she comes in?”

  “Please,” I said and gave him the number.

  “I’ll tell her as soon as she comes in,” Marty said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “So long.”

  “Good luck, fella,” he said. “Remember me if you need a pal. I’m all for you.”

  “Thanks again.” I felt sort of funny. I wasn’t used to people being nice to me for nothing.

  “So long,” he said and hung up.

  I put the receiver back on the hook and sat down and began to read a paper. About a half hour later the phone rang. I picked it up. “Kane talking.”

  It was Ruth. Her voice was cool and distant. “I understand you called me.”

  My voice matched hers. “Yes,” I replied. “I understand Allison of the FBI spoke to you. I was wondering what he wanted.”

  “You mean you were wondering what I told him.”

  “You can put it that way.”

  “You don’t trust anyone, do you?” she asked.

  “That isn’t my business. I can’t afford to.”

  “If it will make you feel better,” she said coldly, “I didn’t tell him anything about us. Only that I met you at the hospital and was interested in your case.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “He saw me this evening and I told him the same.”

  “Is that all you called to find out?” A strange note crept into her voice.

  I was casual. “That’s all, baby,” I replied. “I’ll send you an orchid for knowing how to keep your mouth shut.” I could fool her but I wasn’t fooling myself. I didn’t have to call her. I had learned all I needed to know from Allison.

  “Keep them,” she said, her voice cold again. “You don’t have to bribe me.” She hung up.

  I smiled a little as I put the telephone down. When I got this business under control and out of the way, I’d put in a little work on her.

  She’d come around.

  67

  It was the day before Christmas, Tuesday, December 24th, 1940. I sat back in my chair and listened to the music coming from the floor below. Like many other offices, we had a Christmas party going full blast. Soon it would be time for me to put in an appearance there. It was expected, a sort of annual reminder to the employees that I was real, not a fiction of their minds. Throughout most of the year the average employee didn’t see me, as I came in and left the office by a private entrance. The management of the various departments I left to the department head. From them filtered back the various reports to the few executives I saw, who would in their turn pass the information on to me.

  Miss Walsh came in. She was wearing a new dress. I noticed that the women always put their best foot forward at these little affairs: flowers in their hair, new dresses, beauty treatments, bright smiles. “If you won’t need me for the balance of the day,” she said, smiling, “I think I’ll go downstairs.”

  I smiled back at her. “You can go, Miss Walsh, it’ll be all right.” I took out the present I had bought for her a few days before. Usually I gave her a bottle of perfume or a box of candy, but this year I bought her a small wristwatch. She deserved it; she had been working rather hard since Allison had left, and many were the nights she had stayed late to help me out. “Merry Christmas!”

  She took the closed package and held it in her hand. I could see she wanted to open it but didn’t dare in front of me because I might think it rude. “Thank you, Mr. Kane,” she said, smiling, “and a very merry Christmas to you!” She turned and went out.

  I sat there for a little while longer and then went down to the party. It was going full blast. There were the usual number of slightly drunk, and everyone was in various stages of Christmas joy. As usual the conversation fell away as I entered the room. For a few seconds there would be a little silence, broken by whispers as new employees would be told who I was, and then gradually the party would begin to warm up again. I would stand around for a while, smile and nod politely at whoever spoke to me, and then leave quietly.

  This time I felt sort of blue. Usually I came away from these things with an inner feeling of strength and power, but this time I just felt empty. I watched the couples dancing around and wisecracking, and felt sort of left out of things. I might be paying for the whole shebang, but it was their party.

  I
shouldn’t have had anything to worry about. Things had been rather quiet since Luigerro and the others had been pinched. The boys seemed to be behaving themselves, and the whole affair seemed to be dying a natural slow death. Day by day the news of me crept farther and farther into the inner pages of the newspapers, being pushed back by newer and more sensational copy. Yet I couldn’t escape the sense of impending doom that seemed to envelop me like a dark cloud over the sun. I turned to leave.

  “Mr. Kane?” the voice was soft and young and had a question in its tone.

  I turned back. A girl was standing near me. She looked like her voice. Youth was scrubbed into her face, but her eyes were wide and a little overcome with her daring. “Yes?” I said softly.

  A look of relief flooded over her features. I imagine if I spoke coldly she would have run away. “Would you care to dance?” Her face looked down and her hand made a gesture toward the floor.

  I smiled reassuringly. “I’d be very glad to.”

  Her face looked up at mine at that. She sort of brightened up a little. I held my arms toward her and we began to dance. People stared at us. Let them stare, I thought. I have a right to dance here if I want to: it’s my party. This was the first time I had ever danced at any of the parties.

  She danced well—young and light on her feet. The music was gay and a little on the fast side. She fitted snugly into my arms and I could feel the pressure of her youth against me. She looked up at me as we danced; her eyes seemed to be studying my face. I looked down at her, and she half closed her eyes so I couldn’t look too deeply into them. She half turned her face away. “You’re a very good dancer, Mr. Kane,” she whispered timidly.

  I smiled back at her. “You mean you are. I wouldn’t do half as well with anyone else, Miss—?”

  She colored a little. “Muriel—Muriel Bonham,” she said. And then as if the words had burst out of her. “I hope you don’t think I’m fresh—I mean about asking you to dance.”

  I shook my head slightly. “I don’t; in fact I’m glad you did.”