by Joe Corso
Lonegan stiffened at the mere suggestion. His lips pursed, his eyes opened wide and bolted up from his seat aiming a pointed finger right at Haggerty’s nose.
“Now you listen to me, fake Agent Haggerty,” he said angrily. He let inhaled a deep breath, attempted to contain himself and sternly, but in a lower voice said, “We will raid the Zebra Club tomorrow evening as planned. Now get out of here.”
Haggarty knew with a sublime certainty, bordering on omniscience, what would happen if Lonegan raided the Zebra Club. He had tried. He had told the bull headed Captain.
Lonegan stared as Haggarty walked toward his car that he’d left there earlier in the day before joining his men in the replacement truck they’d been issued. Lonegan’s eyes never left the man until the car was out of sight. He sat down heavily in his chair and lightly scratched his chin. Haggarty had surprised him.
Meanwhile, once inside his car, Haggarty also replayed the conversation, only he began to hatch a plan. There was no way to avoid Lonegan’s suicidal raid other than to warn Trenchie. It was risky but it had to be done.
Haggarty drove, taking the shortest route he knew to the Zebra Club. He was lucky and found a spot right in front, got out, and just boldly marched right into the club, pausing for a moment at the entrance. His nervous eyes bounced around the room as he searched for Trenchie. Haggarty barely seemed to notice the stares. Jake, at the bar wasn’t a face he recalled from the earlier altercation, but he approached him anyway.
“Is Trenchie or Tarzan here?” Haggarty asked.
Haggarty sensed resistance. As a reflex, he put his hand up like a stop sign as if to say give me a second. The gesture caused Jake to look up for a moment. Jake didn’t answer.
“It’s very important I see them,” Haggarty continued. “It’s an emergency and I need to speak to either one of them right away.”
Jake never took his eyes off Haggarty. He reached down behind the bar, grabbed a freshly washed glass from the crate, pulled the sprocket of a Rheingold, and filled the glass with beer from the tap until foam spilled over the sides. He set it down on a coaster before him.
“Wait here a moment.”
Jake then stepped into the back room. A few moments later, the back room door opened and Tarzan emerged. He sidled up to Haggarty.
“We warned you not to come back here. So what exactly are you doing by being here?”
“I came to warn you about Lonegan.”
“What about Lonegan?” Tarzan asked.
Haggarty could feel the nerves inside of him. These guys could take him apart any second now before he was able to get out his message. He decided that fewer words were better.
“He’s planning to raid this place tomorrow night.”
Tarzan might have expected him to say any one of a number of things, but he didn’t expect what he had just heard. It surprised him, actually.
“Wait here a moment,” Tarzan said and walked back into the room at the rear of the bar, picked up the phone and called Trenchie at home.
Trenchie loved spending time with his wife Mary, especially now as any day their baby was due. All he cared about was making sure Mary was comfortable. But Mary knew better. She knew that something was amiss, yet she didn’t pry, and Trenchie never volunteered it. He preferred it this way. Separating business from personal was something he learned a long time ago, but with Mary being pregnant, it was all the more important to protect her from anything that might upset the calm she needed for her and the baby.
Trenchie was closest to the phone when it rang and picked it up. Quietly he stood, always aware that the phones may be tapped, just listening as Tarzan expressed the need to meet.
“Well, one of those shipments from last night, Trench, the one that was defective, has been replaced by a nicer one today. This one seems authentic and might actually be valuable. Can’t put a price on it, though, ‘cause you never can be sure, but I thought you might want to look it over and tell me what you think it’s worth.”
Trenchie got the message loud and clear.
“I’m on my way. It better be valuable. I’m leavin’ my pregnant wife alone again and I really don’t like doin’ that right now. See you in a few.”
Trenchie turned to Mary.
“Something’s come up. I have to meet with Tarzan. If for any reason you need me, call the Zebra Club. You got that? If you feel anything unusual at all going on inside that beautiful body of yours, you call me. I’m just a few minutes away. I’ll drop everything and come right over.”
Mary understood his nervousness about leaving her and she knew he wouldn’t be going if it wasn’t important. Something wasn’t right.
“Don’t worry Trench. I know that sometimes things come up unexpectedly. Go meet Tarzan and do whatever it is you have to do. I’ll be all right.
Trenchie smiled. He had hit the lottery with Mary. She never pressured him and rarely, if ever, fell into the naggy wife routine. She was truly his gift from above and without a doubt, the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Falling in love, even this late in life, had really brought everything into perspective.
Trenchie walked toward Mary and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. Together, they walked to the door.
The drive over was filled with thoughts of Mary, standing at the door, saying good-bye, her round belly swallowing her body. How beautiful she looked. In just three short weeks, their household would change.
Trenchie switched gears, not gears in the car, but those in his mind. He wondered what on earth could have brought Haggarty back to the Zebra Club, especially when he was warned never to return. The man was warned that he’d be killed.
Tarzan headed back over to Haggarty.
“Want another beer? We have a few minutes before Trenchie gets here.”
Haggarty shook his head no and impatiently waited until Trenchie barged through the front door shouting, “I hope to hell this is important. I left a pregnant wife and my soon to be born baby at home. Now is not a good time to play jerk off games.”
“Trench,” Tarzan said, “let’s head in here.”
Trenchie, Tarzan, and Haggarty gathered in the back room. Tarzan took a seat behind the desk. Haggarty sat down opposite the desk facing Tarzan while Trenchie stood by the side of the desk glaring at him.
“Tell Trenchie what you told me . . . why you came back here.”
Haggarty didn’t mince words. He looked at Trenchie and blurted out, “Lonegan is planning on raiding this place tomorrow.”
Trenchie stiffened.
“Really? So why are you here telling me this? I thought you worked for him?”
“Our orders were to bring in Big Red Fortunato – dead or alive. When Big Red was killed, as far as I was concerned, our job was over and our mission was completed. I don’t believe in being a part of anyone’s personal vendetta . . . Lonegan’s or anyone else’s. He’s ordering us to come back here tomorrow, not what our original assignment called for, which means . . . my men will get hurt needlessly. We’re supposed to raid the Corona Club. I’ll be with him. I want you to know this is Lonegan’s doing and no one else’s. Consider this an official warning. He wants us all to meet him at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
Trenchie grunted and mumbled something unintelligible and then nodded.
“It took a lot of guts for you to come back here tonight, I’ll give you that,” Trenchie said. “Any one of these boys could have blown your brains out before you had a chance to say a word. Don’t worry about your family kid. We don’t hurt families. It’s just a scare tactic – goes against the unofficial honor code here. Okay – understood, understood. You’re under orders. We won’t hold it against you when you come back here tomorrow. And I never thought I’d be saying this but . . . I appreciate it. I appreciate the warning. Now you better get outta here before somebody catches wind that you’re here. Hah,” he added, “that’s a funny thought. Nobody in their right mind would guess you’re here. Now get going.”
Haggarty left a
nd Tarzan turned to Trenchie.
“Wow. Hard to figure that guy out. Last night, you gave him one helluva beating and today he comes back here like he’s your long lost brother and warns you about the raid tomorrow night. Beats the hell out of me why he did it.”
“First of all,” Trenchie answered, “he wanted us to know that this wasn’t his doing. He didn’t want us coming after him or his family after our stern warning last night. Second, it’s like he said. He has a job to do, has no choice. As far as he knows, Red’s dead and everything’s good. Lonegan’s taking the law into his hands and Haggarty knows it’s wrong. The kid’s acting on his sense of right and wrong, that’s all and . . . wantin’ to live might have somethin’ to do with it too. In his mind – mission accomplished, mission over. Brave kid he is. Wanted to protect his men, too. The kid’s got guts and . . . heart.”
Tarzan agreed.
“Yeah, you’re right and it also gets us off the hook. And to be honest, I didn’t feel right about us threatening his family. That just didn’t feel right at all. Now what? We’re not gonna be here when they come, right?”
“Well you got that right about the first part of that sentence. Threatenin’ someone’s family is not what we’re about. I would yank out somebody’s fingernails if they threatened my family.”
Trenchie got up to leave and as he walked to the door, he stopped and turned to Tarzan.
“I’m heading over to see how Red’s doing and I wanna give Moose the heads up about Lonegan visiting him tomorrow. Wanna come along?”
“Yeah, I do.”
The two men proceeded to drive through the neighborhood in a zig-zag pattern. They doubled back, went around the block a few times to throw off anyone who might be tailing them, checking all along the way for suspiciously parked cars. They scanned up high for any helicopter activity knowing that surveillance in the skies was a resource available to Lonegan. All the way to the Corona Club, they were on their guard. They appeared to be in the clear so they drove right into the driveway, walked through the house, out the back door to the wall, through the ivy covered gate and into the club. Once inside, they flipped the hidden switch and opened the entrance to the safe room. Moose was sitting next to Red’s bed, expecting them.
“I saw you guys comin’. Hidden camera on the trellis,” Moose said matter-of-factly. “How’s everything goin’?”
“Everything’s fine with us,” Trenchie answered. “How’s Red doin’?”
“He’s gonna pull through – gettin’ stronger every day.”
Tarzan looked around the room and he thought it looked more like a hospital room than a safe room.
“Moose,” Trenchie said, “if you want someone to relieve you or if you need anything, let me know.”
“Nah. We’re good. Don’t need anything right now but . . . we are gonna have a problem when they find out he’s not dead. What’s gonna happen then is what we need to discuss.”
“As far as anyone’s concerned he’s dead and he’ll just stay dead for a long time, if not forever. I’m gonna see a friend of mine who specializes in documents, if you know what I mean. I’ll get him a passport, driver’s license, credit cards, and a social under another name. He’ll be our boss but with a different name,” Tarzan answered.
“Good idea,” said Moose. “At least you can have all that ready so Red can have some options without havin’ to think too much about it.”
“Moose,” Trenchie said, “we can’t stop by often ‘cuz that prick Lonegan is still out there lookin’ to make our lives miserable, but when it’s safe, we’ll stop in. By the way, we found out that Lonegan is gonna pay you a visit tomorrow evening, so make sure you don’t wander out of the safe room for any reason. Keep the lights off and the noise down.”
Moose smiled.
“Don’t worry. Angelo built the room airtight. Light can’t be seen from the outside and the room is soundproof, but I hear you because of the mics that he planted and that hidden camera is pretty darn hard to find. I’ll be extra careful, though.”
The men patted each other’s backs and said their good–byes.
Tarzan and Trenchie men returned to the dim interior of the Zebra Club. Jake, the owner of the club and its head bartender, was a friend of Red’s from the old days. His club was for Red and his men’s use any day, any time – no questions asked. As they made their way to the back room, Jake approached them and handed Trenchie a telegram that had been delivered to him earlier. Trenchie tore open the envelope as he walked into the room.
HEARD WHAT HAPPENED TO RED - STOP - NEED TO TALK TO YOU - STOP - COME ASAP - STOP - S.G.”
Trenchie handed the telegram to Tarzan.
“Damn! It’s from Giancana.”
Tarzan read it and asked, “You goin’?’
“Shit, yeah. He wouldn’t have sent it if it wasn’t important. But, damnit, I got two problems. One – I got a pregnant wife at home. Did I tell you I have a pregnant wife at home? Does anybody give a fuck that I have a pregnant wife at home? Damnit! Three weeks away from meetin’ my baby and the fuckin’ shit hits the fuckin’ fan!”
“Sorry, buddy,” was all Tarzan could say.
Trenchie was all fired up with good reason.
“And how am I gonna get on a plane without Lonegan findin’ out about it? He’ll have his damn minions all over the place.”
Tarzan thought about it for a moment.
“How about takin’ a train?”
“I hate trains worse than I hate planes,” Trenchie snarled. “You know what I’m gonna do?” he said, more than asked. “I’m gonna drive there. It’s easier and a lot less hassle. I’ll take Shooter with me. With the two of us drivin’, we should be there in a few days. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll drive there, but not with the Caddy ‘cause Lonegan knows about it. I’ll have to rent a big car for the trip.”
“Why rent a car?” Tarzan asked. “Just use my Lincoln and I’ll use the Caddy until you get back.”
“Yeah. Thanks. That’ll work. Yeah, that solves that problem. Now I have to find Shooter.”
“Don’t bother – he’s right outside. I’ll tell him to go home right now, pack a suitcase, and get back here right away.”
Trenchie still had the twenty–five grand that he was going to use for his trips to Florida and California. Now, all he had to do was go home and attempt to explain to a very pregnant wife why he had to travel to Chicago.
Chapter Fourteen
Sam Giancana, born Salvatore Giangana, was the man in charge of Chicago. The Sicilian American mobster was the boss – he ran The Outfit, also known as The Chicago Outfit. For him to send a telegram to Red’s boys meant serious business.
Trenchie and Shooter met Giancana at the Armory Lounge, his headquarters in the suburb of Forest Park, Illinois. Several years prior, the Feds – FBI agents – had planted a bug in his hotel room. As a result, from that day forward, any and all meetings were held in his private office after having the room swept for both listening devices and cameras.
Even though the room had been declared “clean,” Giancana still spoke quietly, a habit acquired through years of conversations.
“You know what the Kennedys have done to us,” he began. “I regret the day Sinatra brought Joe Kennedy here to meet with me. I almost had Sinatra whacked for that, but I didn’t want to deprive the world of that voice. Anyway, Joe Kennedy told me I’d have a friend in the White House if I got his son elected President. Do you have any idea of what we went through to get him elected? We intimidated, we lied, broke heads, bussed people in, even got a few cemeteries full of dead people to cast their votes for him. We made that guy who he is today and you know what he did? He made his brother Attorney General and . . . instead of having a friend in the White House, we have an enemy in the Attorney General’s office. Look, I asked you to come here because after hearin’ what happened to your boss, I thought you might want to hear what I’m plannin’ to do.”
Giancana paused for effect. Trenchie waited.
/> Giancana milked it for all it was worth and when Trenchie didn’t respond, he said quite cavalierly, “I’m gonna whack the President of the United States.”
If Giancana was waiting for some sort of a response from Trenchie, he was in for a disappointment. Trenchie bounced his head around a bit then turned and looked at Giancana.
Finally, Giancana asked, “Well, whadda you think?”
“If you don’t kill the bastard, then I will,” Trenchie responded in his dead pan way while looking him straight in the eye.
Sam slapped his thigh and laughed.
“Trenchie, I like you. You don’t say much, do you?”
“I say what needs to be said – the rest is bullshit.”
Sam turned to his bodyguards.
“You see, this is what I’m talkin’ about. This guy’s from the old school – did ten years for a rap he didn’t commit – just did it.”
He looked back at Trenchie.
“That’s one of the reasons I contacted you, Trench. I know what Bobby’s done to Red and I know what his main man is doin’ to you, and I wanted you to know that I’m doing the deed . . . just in case you were thinkin’ of doin’ it yourself. After what they did to Big Red, I thought you might be interested in joinin’ up with us. Love to have you on our team.”
“Sam,” Trenchie said and paused. “Red’s not dead.”
Giancana tilted his head, squinted his eyes a little, and just stared at Trenchie.
“Whadda you mean?” Giancana asked. “Whadda you mean, Red’s not dead? He got shot up. They blew him up, got buried under rubble.”
“Yeah . . . part of that’s right,” Trenchie dragged out. “He did get shot. Yeah, he got shot . . . five times and yeah . . . the club got blown up, but he was with one of our men, Moose. Moose managed to drag him outside just before the building came down on him. Took him somewhere safe. He’s still weak but he’s recoverin’. The feds think they killed him and we’re gonna let ‘em keep on thinkin’ that. I’m gonna get him a new identity, make him somebody else.”