by Joe Corso
Zablonski was silent for a long minute. Then he looked at Tarzan. “What do you think, Detective? Should we give him a break?”
Tarzan nodded. “He looks like a decent guy. I mean . . . he does have a family that needs him. Go ahead, give the guy a break.”
Mario wiped the sweat from his brow with a dishtowel. “Thanks, guys.”
Zablonski shrugged his shoulders. “You better put that money in a valise before we change our minds.”
Mario picked up the leather suitcase beside the kitchen table and opened it on the floor.
“Come on, give me a hand putting the money in the suitcase,” Zablonski told Mario.
The money was all neatly wrapped in $5,000 wrappers stacked five high, covering the whole kitchen table. When the suitcase was closed, Zablonski motioned to Tarzan. “Take the suitcase to the car. I’ll be out in a few minutes. I want to have a few words with Mario.”
A few minutes later, Zablonski left the house and stepped into the back seat of the car.
Four men sat at a table in a corner of the main ballroom at the Starlight Club with the money spread over the two tables Tarzan had shoved together. When they finished counting the money, there was a total of $3,400,000. Red counted out $850,000, placed it in an airline carry-on bag and handed it to Zablonski.
“Not a bad days work, eh?”
Then Red handed Tarzan and Bull $50,000 each.
“I’ll take $50,000 too and I’ll put the other $2,000,000 in the kitty to cover our men’s family’s expenses if any of them wind up in the slammer.”
Bull looked at his end and smiled. $50,000 those days was a fortune. The average guy made less than $5,000 a year, so fifty grand was about ten years salary.
CHAPTER 3
Chicago
A man’s muffled screams could be heard coming from behind the steel door to the heavily insulated basement of the Armory Lounge in the suburb of Forest Park in Chicago, Sam “Momo” Giancana’s headquarters. One of Sam’s men, Louie “Moonbeam” Razzaro, walked down the steps and opened the basement door. He walked over to Sam who was watching one of his men torture a man tied to a chair. Razzarro tugged Sam’s arm to get his attention then whispered something in his ear. Sam nodded, turned and snapped his fingers to get the attention of Felix Alderisio, one of his top henchmen, and pointed to the steps. “Let’s go upstairs where we can talk.”
Sam lit up a Cuban Cohiba and sat back in his comfortable leather desk chair. His two men sat opposite him and waited while he took a long drag of his cigar. He exhaled a thick volume of smoke which hung in the air for a moment before it was pushed away by the large overhead fan.
“Are you sure about this?” Sam asked.
Alderisio nodded. “As sure as I could be. I got the word from Tony ‘Chips’, our casino manager, when I picked up the skim from the Flamingo. Big Red’s making a move to Vegas with the blessing of the commission, but from what I was told he has a problem.”
“What problem?”
Alderisio looked into Giancana’s eyes and said, “Lansky. Meyer feels it’s his town and he doesn’t want Red in Vegas.”
Giancana almost jumped out of his chair. “His town? I have interests there too. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“There’s more, Boss. Word on the street is that Lansky’s going to have him taken out. It’s nothing personal with Lansky, just business, and you know that business always comes first with Meyer. Look, I got this from Tony Chips himself and he’s as reliable as a gold Rolex, and I trust the guy. We both work for you and he knows better than to feed me bullshit knowing I would come and tell you.”
Giancana nodded, but he seemed uncharacteristically concerned. “I like Big Red, and it’s too bad he doesn’t know the position he’s put himself in by deciding to make a move to Vegas. Someone should warn him. Christ, I was in Tahoe at the Cal Neva with him, Frank and Marilyn, and we had a great time talking about old times. I’m gonna do something . . . But before I do anything I want to talk to the commission. I want to hear it from their lips that they gave him their approval to make the move, then I’ll have a talk with Red and warn him about the problems he’s about to have if he makes his move to Vegas.”
Alderisio looked surprised. “You’re gonna warn Red? Why are you sticking your neck out for some mob boss in Queens?”
Sam flicked the ash of his cigar in the ashtray on his desk. “Like I said before, I like the guy; and I don’t say that about many of the guys I meet in this racket. Red’s a standup guy and he deserves a sit-down before anyone whacks him.
“Let’s go back downstairs. I have some unfinished business to settle with Billy McCarthy. He’s being stubborn. He won’t tell me who his partner was when they killed my two men. But he’ll talk,” he said, smiling mirthlessly.
Sam Giancana had a busy schedule lined up today and he was getting restless because this McCarthy business was taking up too much of his time. He wanted it over with. McCarthy would talk or he’d die, he thought to himself. He smiled inwardly because his thought was just a play on words. Whether McCarthy talked or not he’d die anyway. It was just a matter of how and when.
Billy McCarthy and another small time hood had ambushed and killed Ron and Phil Scalvo without permission after a barroom fight. Tony the Ant had caught Billy McCarthy and taken him down to the basement of the Armory Lounge where he tortured him. He stuck an ice pick in McCarthy’s groin to get his attention, and when McCarthy wouldn’t give up his partner The Ant put his head in a vice and squeezed. McCarthy still wouldn’t talk so The Ant tightened the vice until one of McCarthy’s eyes popped out of his head. Tony the Ant was a brutal, sadistic killer. When McCarthy’s eye popped out of his head he’d had enough. He raised his arm and The Ant loosened the vice.
“You ready to tell me who your partner is or do I have to take your other eye out too?”
McCarthy’s face was so battered he was practically blind and had trouble talking through split lips, broken teeth and a swollen face.
“Open the vice and let me sit back. Water. I need some water. Can’t speak . . . Mouth too dry. My lips and tongue are swollen. Water first, then I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
To his credit McCarthy was a tough guy who didn’t give up his partner easily. Tony brought him a glass of water and that did it. Even though he slurred his words, he could talk.
“Jimmy, his name is Jimmy Miraglia.”
Tony patted McCarthy on the shoulder. “You’re a tough kid but you could have saved yourself a lot of pain if you’d told us his name before we began.”
Momo, as Giancana was known, motioned one of his men over to him and whispered something in his ear. The man nodded and left. Later that day Miraglia was picked up and taken to the Armory Lounge where he joined McCarthy. Sam and three of his men stood behind the two battered men, who couldn’t see Giancana motion with his right hand horizontally across his throat. The three men nodded, and McCarthy and Miraglia were taken upstairs and out the back door of the lounge to a waiting car. Sam’s men returned an hour later.
“Is it done?”
“Yes, they’re dead. We cut their throats and they bled out.”
Sam suppressed a smile, pulled a fresh cigar from his jacket and leaned back in his chair. “That’ll teach others the lesson that you don’t mess with me or my boys.” He lit his cigar and swiveled his chair to face Alderisio.
“I was busy downstairs and didn’t get a chance to ask you. Did you make any connections when you visited Sicily, Turkey and Greece?”
Felix smiled. “It’s all set up. I made connections in Turkey. The olive oil will be shipped to Sicily. Then it will be brought to the US by the Sicilians. But that aside, I have to show you pictures I took of the ruins.”
Sam listened to Alderisio explaining the ruins for a few minutes before losing his patience and finally exploding.
“Phil, goddammit! Ruins! I got Feds lining up to fuck me in the ass and you sit there talking to me about ruins! Listen to me, Felix, l
isten real good! Ruins ain’t olive oil! Forget about them goddamn ruins!” He pointed at Alderisio with his cigar as if he were wielding a sword. “Just tell me about the connections you made and forget about this ruins bullshit.”
Alderisio, who was obsessed with ruins, frowned and hung his head sheepishly. “Everything is set. Deliveries will start next month.”
Sam smiled outwardly for the first time that morning. “Good. That wasn’t so hard now was it?”
Felix was about to leave but Sam stopped him. “You’re sure about Big Red making the move to Vegas?”
“Like I told you, Sam, Tony Chips wouldn’t tell me something like that if it wasn’t true.”
Giancana brushed ash from his cigar. “Who did he get this information from?”
“One of the commission guys mentioned it in passing over a drink, like it was common knowledge. I don’t think the guy realized how important that was to us. I got the info on Lansky’s hit on Big Red from one of Genovese’s men who was having a run of bad luck. He came over to me and said he had something to trade, something that Momo might be interested in. He asked me if the information was worth what he owed the house. I told him to tell me about it, and if it was worth it I would agree to the trade. After hearing what he had to say I agreed to wipe out his debt.”
Sam leaned back in his comfortable leather desk chair with his fingers steepled over his chest, uncharacteristically interested in every word Alderisio had to say.
“Very interesting. In fact, what you just said about Lansky’s hit is a complete surprise. Good work, Felix.” Then Sam motioned with a wave of his hand, signifying that the discussion was over. “Okay, that’s all for now. You guys can go.”
CHAPTER 4
Joey Bones sat in the passenger seat while Piss Clam sat behind the wheel. They were parked a little ways down the block in Joey’s Ford Fairlane, with a clear view of Zach the Greek’s house. The grass on the front lawn hadn’t been mowed for what must have been a month, two garbage pails were knocked over and a dog was picking through the garbage scattered in a jumbled mess around one of the cans. Old tires leaned against the driveway side of the house and the door to the garage had a broken window. Bones pointed toward the house with disgust.
“How can a guy live in a pig-sty of a house like that? If the outside looks like that, what the hell does the inside look like?”
Piss Clam just shrugged. “I guess some guys are just natural slobs. Why else would a guy live in a place like that?”
Suddenly Piss Clam became alert and nudged Joey who was facing away from the house. “Here he comes. He just left his house. What do you want to do? You want to grab him now?”
“No. Red said to do him in the house. We’ll follow him and see where he goes and who his friends are. Then we’ll either let Red know what we’ve discovered or we’ll just whack the guy. Let’s play this by ear.”
***
Petey D, one of Red’s capos, made an unscheduled visit to the Starlight Club with anxious news for Red. Petey D stood about five feet ten inches tall and was a tough lean man gone to fat. He had thinning hair and a hard serious face, which always made him seem angry, like he wanted to hurt somebody. His hard face gave warning that it would be a mistake to mess with him. He spotted Tarzan behind the bar and, knowing that Tarzan was Red’s underboss and was responsible for Red’s books, he walked over to him and said he had something important to show Red. Tarzan raised an eyebrow, knowing that Petey D was a serious man. He left the bar and motioned for Petey to follow him to a table where they could talk in private.
“With you popping in like this I know it can’t be good news. I’m guessing whatever you want to show Red ain’t gonna make his day. Am I right, Petey?”
“You got that right, Tarzan.’
Petey took an envelope from his jacket pocket and dropped it on the table in front of Tarzan.
Tarzan picked it up. Before opening it he looked Petey right in the eye. “Petey, I’ve got a feeling I’m not gonna like what’s in the envelope.” He opened it and pulled out three folded 8 x 10 sheets of paper, which he unfolded and read. Shaking his head, he threw the papers on the table. “How the hell did you get this?”
Petey leaned closer to Tarzan and told him everything. When he’d finished, Tarzan shook his head and was silent for a moment. Then he stood. “Red has to know about this. He’s probably gonna want to talk to you, so wait here and don’t go anywhere.”
Petey took a drag of his cigarette and nodded. “Don’t worry. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’ll be right here drinkin’ my coffee if Red wants to talk to me.”
“Oh . . . Don’t worry about that. He’s gonna want to talk to you.”
Tarzan knocked once and entered Red’s office.
“We’ve got a problem, Red.”
Red moaned, not wanting to hear it. He feared it would be another obstacle to prevent him from flying out to his studio in Hollywood. “Now what’s the problem?”
Tarzan held an envelope in his hand for Red to see. “Sally Chicken Wings has been skimming money from the car dealerships. Petey D, who handles our Mercedes dealership, discovered what Chicken Wings was doing.”
Red was becoming exasperated. He hated to hear that one of his men was stealing from him. If they needed money all they had to do was come to him and he’d make sure they got what they needed. But stealing wouldn’t be tolerated. He ran his fingers through his hair.
“How do we know Sally did this?”
Tarzan filled him in on what Petey told him. “Sally had to use the men’s room so when he took his jacket off and threw it over a chair in front of Petey’s desk, some folded papers fell out. Petey picked them up and was about to put the papers back in the jacket, but he noticed some numbers written on one of the pages. He was worried that Chicken Wings would return so he didn’t get a chance to read more than a few lines. But his eyes lit up at the part he read, so he quickly made copies of the pages. When Chicken Wings left, Petey read them. When he realized what the numbers on the pages meant, he brought them to me. He’s outside now if you want to talk to him.”
“I’ll talk to him in a few minutes, but first hand me the copies. I want to read them.” Red took the pages and read the contents. “Jesus Christ! That much? He skimmed that much money from me?”
“I’m afraid so, Boss.”
Red’s face was the color of his name, beet red. “Contact my captains and tell them to be here 9 a.m. Saturday morning. Tell them we’re holding a prayer meeting.” When Red called his men to a prayer meeting, they knew someone was going to be whacked. “Now send Petey D in. I want to hear about this from him.”
When Petey was seated, Red closed the door to his soundproof office, which just about made their conversation impossible to record. “Tarzan told me how you happen to have these papers but now I want to hear it from you.”
“Sally Chicken Wings came in to pick up his weekly cash skim off the car dealership. He was sweating and holding his stomach. He took off his jacket and told me he had to go to the bathroom. He said it must have been something he ate. ‘I gotta go. Be back in a few minutes,’ he said. And he carelessly flung his jacket over the chair and made a beeline for the bathroom. Some papers fell from his jacket onto the floor and I got curious, wondering what the numbers were for. So I took a quick look and I was shocked at what I read. I quickly made copies, then folded the original papers and put them back in his jacket. I shouldn’t have worried because Sally was gone for about twenty minutes.”
Red was still taking the skim from some of his businesses, but it was all part of his plan to legitimize every facet of his operation. The car dealership skims were scheduled to end in two months, which was probably why Sally got careless. The papers Petey D copied showed that Sally, who Red had placed in charge of his car dealerships collections, was skimming money a little at a time for himself, which totaled $100,000.
Before the Saturday morning meeting Red had his place checked for bugs. After his captains arrived he post
ed men by the door, instructing them to keep their eye out for anything unusual, especially parked cars with men in them. The meeting was called to order. Red never let one hand know what the other hand was doing. This was the case with the soon to be deceased Sally Chicken Wings. What men didn’t know they couldn’t talk about. Sure, they could surmise that their group was involved in a particular bit of nastiness, but since they didn’t know firsthand their loose lips could not cause Red any unforeseen problems.
“Listen up, guys. I’ll be leaving town for a few days, and Tarzan will be in charge. If you need anything or have any questions, call him.”
Fat Charlie raised his hand and asked, “What about Trenchie and Shooter? Will they be here, or are they going with you?”
“I’m taking those two with me,” Red answered. “I want to see firsthand how our movie company is doing and if everything is going smoothly; and by smoothly I mean are we making money. If the studios are in the black, then I’ll take a trip to Vegas and pursue any investments available to us, either as a partner or as the sole owner. It would make sense to invest in a casino because we’d be doing what we have always been doing, only out there it’s all very legal.”
The men laughed. He was right. In Vegas they wouldn’t have to look over their shoulder, watching for the law to swoop down on them like birds of prey. Now his captains had something to tell the members of their respective crews.
“Remember, we’re becoming like a large corporation because as the family grows, so does your share of the profits.”
The men in the room looked at one another, smiling and nodding appreciatively. Red scanned the room and looked into each of his captain’s eyes before speaking again.
“I would have left for California already, but before I leave I have some unpleasantness to take care of. I don’t want to say what that unpleasantness is because the fewer people that know about it, the less chance of any one finding out about it. I don’t want what’s about to happen to slip out accidentally. You’ll all know what I’m talking about very soon so hold your questions until then. Then, if you have any questions, go and see Tarzan and he’ll answer them for you. But try not to use the phone. Tarzan will be here every day except Sundays. Joey Bones will be here Sundays, and if he can’t answer your questions, he’ll know where to reach Tarzan.”