“I don’t get you.”
“You just bumped into Mack Bolan, Johnny. Better sound the alarm. He’s probably already gotten away clean.”
Long before the flustered Sergeant Pappas could “sound the alarm,” the flaming anachronism was indeed “away clean.”
But he had another stop to make, on the way out of town. He needed to see a man about a man. He had to insure Leo Turrin’s realignment. He wanted to have a quiet little talk with David Eritrea.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Macho Machismo
David and Leo were behind closed doors in a super-private conference. Angelo Flavia sat by the window with a newspaper, Tamiano and another boy were watching an old movie on TV, turned way down low—and the punchy little tagman, Fresni, was boring holes in Billy Gino with his eyes.
Billy shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the door, wishing Fresni would look at something else for awhile. What the hell did the guy think Billy was going to do—crash in there and start blasting away at his boss?
He was almost happy to get the beep on his radio. He yanked the antenna up and growled, “Yeah, what is it?”
“We got a visitor, Billy,” came a report from the hallway station. “You better come.”
He called Tamiano away from his movie to relieve him at the door, gave a sympathetic smile to Fresni, and went out to see who was calling.
A tall guy wearing dark eyeshades and a five-hundred-dollar suit was standing with three boys in the elevator, casually talking about something that was just delighting the hell out of his listeners. It was a hell of a way to conduct a security watch and Billy Gino was very unhappy with his people until one of them jogged up the hall to meet him with the excited whisper, “It’s a Black Ace, Billy. He came to find Leo Turrin.”
So that explained it.
Billy Gino felt his hackles rising as he ambled on toward the clutch at the elevator. An Ace of Spades, also called Black Ace, was something very special in the organization. Those guys were the elite of the elite. You did not see them on every street corner—hell, not on any street corner. You rarely saw them, even, in that fancy highrise in midtown Manhattan. Billy Gino could not include the Black Aces in the contempt he held for the usual cadre of Commissione hotshots. There were Aces and then there were Black Aces. The Blacks were the top of the cut, man. You just naturally had to respect those guys. There was no other way to take them.
His own boys on the elevator detail looked as though they would be willing to strew rose petals or something in the guy’s path. He had them thoroughly charmed. No frozen-faced robots, these guys. These guys were solid class, all the way through, and they knew how to come on properly to the working stiffs.
As Billy Gino approached within earshot, the guy was just finishing some funny story. “… jumped out of that third story window with his clothes wrapped around his neck. That’s the last I saw of Tommy Domencio—and that’s the last the lady saw of him, too.”
The boys were guffawing it up and didn’t even know their boss was there. The Black Ace knew it, though. He flicked a sidewise glance Billy’s way and stuck out a hand. “Hi, Billy. What are you doing so far from home?”
Billy Gino shook the Ace’s hand and tried not to look too interested. “We uh—when did we meet?”
The guy grinned at him as he replied, “Oh, now and then, Billy. You don’t always know it, but I do.”
Billy Gino could believe that. These guys were like ghosts, always around but hardly ever visible. It was really a rare event to actually be standing here and jawing with one. It was whispered on the streets that the Black Aces had committed to memory the entire life history and present circumstances of every made man in the organization, and knew them intimately—even to the type of women they preferred and their favorite positions in bed. That was an exaggeration of course, but it did reflect rather accurately the awe in which these guys were held by the street soldiers.
And why not? They were every soldier’s dream of perfection—the ultimate man, Mr. Macho, who could mingle with any and be at complete ease with all. These guys were the powers behind the throne—and all knew it.
Billy Gino did not buy it all that strongly—but he had to admit that he was affected by the machismo of these guys. This one was no exception. Those eyes were hardly visible behind the smoked glass, but Billy Gino knew that they were there and dissecting him thoroughly, sizing and measuring him even as the guy handed over the little ID folder and said, “Call me Omega. I need to see Leo Turrin. It’s very urgent. Give my respects to David, but send Leo out.”
Billy barely looked at the shiny, specially embossed plastic playing card in the wallet. It was an Ace of Spades, all right—and it was the only ID the guys carried. It was enough.
Billy said, “Won’t you step inside, sir? I’m sure Mr. Eritrea would want to say hello. He’s in a, uh, very urgent conference with Mr. Turrin right now. But I’m sure—”
The guy had a hand on Billy’s shoulder and they were already strolling up the hall toward the suite. Billy could not decide which of them had started first, it was that smooth. The Ace of Spades was telling him, “It’s a tense time, Billy, and I don’t want to spend any unnecessarily. I do have some unhappy news for Leo, though, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to bust in on them.”
“Oh, say, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a bit.”
Billy was falling under the guy’s spell—and he knew it and hated himself for it—but, dammit, there it was. The word had already spread, too. Some of the boys were standing in their open doorways, some with nothing but a towel cinched about the waist, just to get a look at the guy. That embarrassed Billy Gino. He felt the need to apologize for the behavior of his boys, but he didn’t quite know how to put it without making things worse.
He lamely explained, “We have the whole floor, you know. So we can leave the doors open and just let the boys wander around some. Kind of takes away the four walls feeling. You know what I mean. A guy can go stir crazy in a hotel room.”
The guy chuckled and assured Billy that he knew what Billy meant. And he was calling out names as he passed the doorways, saying things like “Watch those Swedish women, Jerry,” and “How’s the action on Lexington Avenue, Eddie?”
It went over real big, and Billy Gino was getting a real demonstration of how legends were born. Nothing, it seemed, more impressed a soldier of the streets than having a bigshot recognize him on sight and say something intimately personal to him.
One of the greatest things—Billy knew it so well—was to have cadre loyalty so fierce that a boy would gladly die for his boss, without even questioning why. Billy had been able to feel that in only three or four boys during all his years as body-cock. This guy had it already, with one pass along the hall. Those goddamn dumb boys would die for the guy who called them by name and mentioned something personal in their lives, however vague it might be.
Billy recognized this curious street psychology even while acknowledging that he himself was susceptible to it. He had swelled with strange emotion when the guy stuck out that paw and said, “Hi, Billy—what’re you doing so far from home?”
The guy knew his name and where he came from—and Billy Gino had swelled up immediately.
The knowledge irritated him just a bit, but he still ushered the guy into the suite with a restrained flourish and went very quickly to that closed door at the far end of the room. He was a bit flustered, though, to find the guy right beside him when he reached that door; he thought he’d left the guy up front, and he became aware of the presence alongside only when Jocko Fresni leapt to attention and the guy called over to him, “Hey, Jocko, what was your score?”
The little dumbo glowed as he replied, “I won two games and had to walk off and leave ’em.” And he did not even make a fuss when Billy rapped on the door and went in alone.
David growled, “What’s all the fuss, Billy?”
Billy handed over the ID wallet and said, “He’s called Omega. He came to see Mr. Turri
n. Says it’s urgent.”
David tossed a surprised look at Turrin and asked him, “Do you know this Omega?”
The Pittsfield boss replied, “Yeah, sort of, I think.” His glance swept to Billy Gino. “Tall guy, very smooth and macho?”
Billy nodded dumbly to that. Hell, they all looked that way. “He says he has some unhappy news for you, Mr. Turrin.”
Turrin took the wallet from David and went quickly to the door. David got up and slowly followed, glancing at himself in a wall mirror as he passed it. That embarrassed Billy. David shouldn’t give a damn about—well, maybe he should. Even full bosses behaved differently, it was said, with an Ace of Spades on the premises.
David sort of hung there just inside the door, as though he could not decide whether he should just go on out or wait for the guy to come in.
Obviously, though, the guy was not coming in. Billy moved into the open doorway and announced, a bit too loudly, “Mr. Eritrea, this is Mr. Omega.”
David took the cue and came out with his hand ready—but Omega was busy with something else. He was busy taking over. He jabbed a stiff finger toward Billy Gino and Jocko Fresni, saying, “You boys stay. You other boys catch some air. Not you, Angelo—you stay, too.” Then, without even taking a breath, he reached over to grab David’s dangling hand and said, “Sorry to butt in this way, David. Pardon me just a minute.” Then he left David standing there with a dumb look on his face and pulled the little Pittsfield boss into a tight conference in a far corner of the room.
The “other boys” hurried out of the room.
“What the hell is this?” David said furiously, but not very loudly.
“I’m sure it’s nothing personal, Mr. Eritrea,” Billy said quickly, leaping into the breach even while wondering why he was apologizing for the guy.
What the hell was going on here?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Brokering
“You’re crazy!” Leo whispered furiously. “What the hell are you—?”
“Shut up and listen,” Bolan said calmly. “I talked to Hal. We have a play onstage and things are looking much brighter than they may appear. I’m going to put an arm on Eritrea, here and now. But I need to know how far you’ve gone with him.”
“Pretty far,” Leo replied uneasily. “The guy is trying to bind me to him. Just about like you said.”
“What’s his offer?”
“Domain. Claims he has DiAnglia and the other New York bosses behind him. Says they’re getting ready for a showdown and they’re making the cut very soon. Says they like my style and hope they can count on me for some quick support. What do you think?”
“Did he mention Augie?”
“Not hardly, no.”
“Did you ask?”
“Not directly. I asked how Augie was doing. He said Augie is doing fine, but planning for the future. I think that was meant as a hint that Augie is naming David as heir apparent and wants to insure support for him, from beyond the grave.”
“Uh huh. Okay. Let’s play that.”
“I’m game.”
“Let your true feeling hang out, Leo. Right now. I’ve just notified you that Angelina was snatched.”
The little guy took a quick step backwards and raised his voice to cry out, “What?”
Fresni had been skulking about in the distant background. He scrambled to a stiff, toe-stretching stance and yelled up, “Leo? You okay?”
“I’m okay!” Turrin snarled. “Just relax!” He punched the wall and kicked a pillow off the sofa.
“Save it!” Bolan said loudly. “We’ll put it to work where it will do some good!”
Eritrea and Gino cautiously drifted over. Leo turned his back to them and walked stiffly to the window to stare down onto the street.
“What the hell is it?” Eritrea asked softly.
“We need to talk, David,” Bolan told him.
The guy took his arm and gently pulled him along. “Sure. Back here. Come on. Billy—get some refreshments.”
“Coffee’s fine,” Bolan said sourly.
“Me too, Billy. Get some fresh stuff up from the kitchen.”
Bolan allowed himself to be piloted to the back room. He kicked the door shut as he passed through and turned immediately to his host. “This is entirely confidential, David.”
“Oh, sure.”
The guy was trying to get Bolan into a chair. Instead, he went to the window and struck a pose there, looking back at the guy with a sober smile. “I really came to see you.”
“Sure. I understand.”
“I came as soon as I could. How bad were you hurt?”
“Bad enough. We lost half the force. Leo says Bolan is in town—and the cops are saying the same thing. I figured it was Leo who sprang us at the airport. Leo says uh-uh, it wasn’t him. Says he smells Bolan all over that hit.”
“Leo should know. The guy has been through the fire.”
“Right. He should know.”
“It wasn’t all Bolan, David.”
“Yes, I, uh—why the hell did the guy mix in that way? He saved my ass, you know. I can’t figure why.”
The “Black Ace” shrugged his shoulders as he replied, “Don’t try to figure that guy. He gets pretty cutesy, sometimes. I think you’ve seen the last of him for awhile. I stopped off to see Weatherbee on the way over here.”
“Who?—oh! You, uh, have a thing with the guy?”
Bolan wagged his hand. “Off and on. The cops figure the town suddenly got too hot for Bolan. I agree with that. Anyway, Bolan isn’t your problem right now.”
“Who is? Do you know?”
Bolan jerked his head at the door. “One of them is right out there. Work it right and you’ll have a loyal compadre for life. I say that with full knowledge of the guy.”
“You said a problem. Work what right?”
“I just brought the guy some rotten news. Did he tell you what’s been going on down here?”
Eritrea jerked his head in a quick nod. “Someone contracted him. I think I can work—”
“That’s only part of the problem. I just brought him the other part. They snatched his wife.”
Eritrea’s eyes jerked. “That’s a lousy …”
“Lousier than you know. They tried to dirty the guy, in the bargain. They worked a con through a dirt merchant in Washington. Dummied up a government safe house and knocked off a couple of feds. The news will break later tonight that Leo’s woman was in that safe house.”
Eritrea’s eyes were working the problem. He said, “Slick, mighty slick. They’ve got the poor guy coming and going, haven’t they.”
Bolan sighed. He stared through the window for a moment, then turned back to his patsy. “Maybe and maybe not. They’re trying to get a tab on the guy, that’s all. It doesn’t have to work, David.”
“I see what you mean.”
“Here’s what you’re to do.”
“Okay.”
“Get it back down to the Big Apple. Take Leo with you. Get your council together and make the cut. Lay it out flat. They come in on the top of the cut or they get the hell out. You’ll have my full support, and I speak for several others. You know what I mean.”
The guy could not suppress the smile. He said, “That’s very warming. I can’t tell you how much I—”
“Forget it. I’m just doing my job. I don’t like what I’ve been seeing lately—and I’m not the only one. So we put it together. And we came down on your side of the cut. We want you to know that—and to act accordingly. It’s mainly why I’m here right now.”
“Yes, that’s very warming. I would need to be able to count on that support, you know. There is a very powerful opposition, as you must know.”
“Don’t worry about that opposition. It’s another reason I’m here. Your opposition won’t have any teeth by the time you get back home.”
“Hey, Omega, I can’t tell you—I just can’t express …”
The guy was too overwhelmed to express his gratitude.
“Okay. That’s great. What about Augie?”
Bolan was still showing the smug smile. “Yeah. What about him?”
Eritrea fairly beamed. “Fine. Just so we understand.”
Boland did not, but he did not let it show. “You’ll have to see to Leo’s problems. Don’t let it undo you. If they get away with that stuff—well, it could hurt you.”
“Maybe I should just cut the guy away right now.”
Bolan shook his head, displeasure showing plainly. “I wouldn’t advise that. You know how word gets out. It would make you look weak. Shove it back down their dirty throats, David.”
The guy was beaming again. “I will. Count on it. I will. I know how to do it.”
Bolan was sure he did.
He said, “Okay. Do what you can to get his woman back and shove the dirt back down their lousy throats in the bargain. It’s important, in more ways than one. Leo is a popular guy with some of us. We don’t like what they’re doing to him. I guess maybe that’s what finally tipped it. So that benefit goes to you, as well. Don’t mess it up, David.”
“Don’t worry about it. I feel the same way about Leo. He’s a valuable man. We can’t afford that kind of loss.”
“Right. We feel the same about you, David.”
“Well—I appreciate that. We’re going to have a much stronger organization, after this. I’ll want to get very close with your people.”
“That goes with the cut. Right? How soon can you get moving?”
Eritrea glanced at his watch. “Well, hell, what’s to—I’ll have to square it with Weatherbee.”
“Leave that to me.”
“Fine. I guess I can line up a charter. I really hadn’t thought yet about—”
“Why don’t you let Leo get you some cars? You can be there in a couple of hours.”
“Right. We’ll do it that way.”
“We’re depending on you, David.”
Bolan was walking toward the door. He took the guy by the arm and steered him along.
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