Tony was quiet for a moment. “The hell with it,” he said. He waved for more drinks. He changed the subject, but when Swan looked at his watch fifteen minutes later, as if getting ready to go, Tony said, “Say, Swan, forget that State Senator crack. Didn’t mean nothin’.”
“I know it.”
“You know,” Tony said conversationally, “Fm just now gettin’ used to you Ijein’ in the Legislature. Man, when I think of all the jobs you used to have me do when I was a kid. Didn’t nobody ever try shakin’ you down about that unpolitical background?”
“No. Not many know about it. You do, of course. An-gelo. The gal I used to shack up with back then. A few others. Naturally my wife knows about it.”
Tony shook his head. “Well, I guess you been lucky word about your old days never leaked out. Right, Senator? I imagine they got lots worse records in the Legislature than yours, though.”
“Uh-huh. Some would really surprise you.” Swan looked at Tony, not speaking for a while, then he said, “Well, I’ve got to get moving. Thanks for the meal.”
“Forget it. You going to see Angelo?”
“I’ll see him again before I leave tomorrow.”
“Well, I sure wish you’d tell him what a great guy I am. But, I guess you know what you’re doin’. Swan.” He grinned as they got up from the table.
Swan said quietly, “I’ll think about it. You’re positive your business has picked up quite a bit?”
“Sure I am. Why?”
“Nothing.” They walked to the front of the restaurant. As they separated to go in opposite directions Swan shook Tony’s hand and said, “Sometimes I wish I didn’t understand you so well.”
“Huh? What’s that mean?”
“Nothing much. I just wish I didn’t know how big a bastard you really are. Well, see you, kid.”
“So long, Swan.”
The next day Tony went to Leo’s apartment in the Strand and spent an hour with him. The last half hour of conversation was the important part from Tony’s viewpoint.
He started it by saying, “There’s a noise that Sharkey’s about out, Leo. That should make you happy.”
“What you mean?”
“Well, if the Shark goes out, who goes in? Somebody has to take over Shark’s spot. You’re the only man in sight.”
Leo got out a cigarette and tapped it against his thumbnail. “You think so?”
“There’s only you and Hamlin left that got important spots —^besides me. You been under Shark for five years now. Two more than Hamlin. Who you think would take over?”
“I hadn’t thought a hell of a lot about it.” Leo’s thin face brightened a little. “Wonder how much Shark drags down.”
“I dunno. But I’ll bet he makes close to half-milUon a year.”
Leo whistled, blinked his dark eyes rapidly. “That’s a pile. I tried to figure it a few times; he must drag down a helluva mess.”
“Yeah.” Tony frowned. “But the way it’s goin’, Shark might last for years—unless somebody needles that Angelo. Hell, he’s so far up in that office building of his, he don’t know what goes on down here. He probably don’t know how close Shark is to goin’ clear off his nut.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, hell. Who’s told him? Shark? Somebody oughta put a bug in Angelo’s ear—in the interest of the business. I imagine Angelo would like to know it; oughta appreciate getting the lowdown.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll give him a ring myself.”
“You think he ought to be told, huh?”
“What do you think, Leo? Put yourself in Angelo’s spot. Wouldn’t you appreciate a little tip that the number-one guy under you was about off his rocker, drinking like a fish, maybe—maybe even gettin’ his accounts messed up a little?” He shrugged. “Hell, Angelo probably got a fair idea, but no real lowdown.”
“What you mean about accounts?”
“Just a stab in the dark. Funny thing. I saw Swan yesterday and mentioned business picked up in my district—you know, one of those periodic up-and-down swings—and it seemed to surprise Swan. I guess Angelo didn’t know nothin’ about it. I don’t figure it. I don’t suppose Shark would hold out on the Top.”
“No,” Leo said. “Don’t seem likely.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, then Tony got up. “Guess I’ll blow. Take a sleep before I start around tonight.”
Leo took him to the door. “You think you’ll put a bug in Angelo’s ear?”
“I dunno. I don’t know him too good—you know him better’n I do. Probably wouldn’t hurt none. Well, I gotta beat it, Leo. How about lunch tomorrow?”
“O.K. One at the Domino, O.K.r
“See you at one, Leo.”
Angelo looked up. “Hello, Tony. Sit down.”
Tony sat down in a chair at the end of the desk. This was the fourth time he’d been up here; once when Angelo told him he was taking over Alterie’s spot—fourteen months ago now—then a couple of times in the next six months on business matters that Angelo wanted to talk to Tony about. But this was the first time Tony had been here for several months.
Angelo blinked his yellowish eyes and looked at Tony. “My reports, and the ones you’ve sent me, show your district is doing quite well, Tony. I remember our phone conversation about a few changes you wished to make, but I’d like you to tell me exactly what you’ve done.”
Angelo got out a black cigar and lighted it, then stuck it into his puckered mouth. Tony was thinking that Angelo knew damn well everything he’d done, but he started talking anyway.
“In the last four months the gross from my district has gone up fifteen and a half percent.” Tony had hired an accountant for two days, given him a pile of figures, and learned about his own business in terms of percentages. He went on, “The organization’s net for the district went up fourteen and two tenths percent in the same period—I had to spend a little money. Part of the reason for the net being almost as much as the gross is that we didn’t have to pay any more protection. Maybe that’ll change, I don’t know about that. Also—”
Angelo interrupted. “Have you any idea what’s happened in the other two districts in the same period?”
Tony almost smiled. He’d been nervous about this conversation, but he’d planned what he’d say. “Yes, sir. Leo’s went down four percent, Hamlin’s three.”
“Then part of your increase was from the other areas.”
“Yes, sir. But only a small part. Less than half, because my district’s the biggest grosser; always was. Except for the phone stuff.”
Angelo didn’t say anything. He sat quietly behind his desk. The quiet lasted so long that finally Tony said, “Mr. Angelo, those three houses I mentioned, those were the only ones I made specials. Before I went any farther, I figured I’d better ask what you thought about it. There’s several other things I’d like to do, too, you figure it’s O.K.”
“What things, Tony?”
“One thing, it seems like we don’t have no special house for the nutty characters. Some of these guys go to the regular places—but we’re not really set up for that. I was thinking maybe a special house, just set aside for them guys, might make a hundred thousand a year, maybe a quarter million.”
He stopped, wondering what Angelo would say. Angelo took the cigar from his mouth and stared at it. “You’ve given this quite a bit of thought, I take it.”
“Yes, sir. I got a file on most of the girls, and I know just the ones would be perfect for a place like that. I even looked over a place out on Army Street you could probably get real cheap.” Tony swallowed. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned to anybody that he was keeping a file on the prostitutes. He hoped to God Angelo would ask him about it now that it had slipped, apparently casually, into the conversation. If not, he’d have to mention it again himself.
But Angelo looked at Tony. “What fiile is this? What kind of file?”
“I got a file on about twelve hundred girls we got now, or worked for us. Card file with almost everything about the
m—what kind of tricks they turn, looks, how much they make and so on. And the pictures like in them three houses I mentioned.”
Angelo frowned. “Why didn’t I know about this, Mr. Romero?”
Tony said pleasantly, “Well, it was just something I worked up. I liked to figure what girls was doin’ best, what kind of play they get. It was more for my own personal use than anything else—so I could see the girls got in the right spots, and so on. I figured it wouldn’t do no harm. Besides, this last year I had some extra time on my hands.”
“You don’t have nearly that many girls in your district, Mr. Romero.”
Tony wished the guy would stop calling him Mr. Romero. Usually Angelo wasn’t so formal. Maybe he’d put his foot in it. Well, the hell with it; a guy had to take a chance if he was ever going to get anywhere. He said, “No, sir. That includes girls in all the districts, all over San Francisco. But that’s because we shift the girls from one place to another. Every time girls would come into my spots I’d add ‘em to my file.” He hesitated, then added, “I never went outside my district for none of it; it was just when they was shifted.”
“I see,” Angelo said.
Nothing was said for what Tony figured was at least five minutes. It seemed to him like an hour. Then Angelo rolled the ash off his cigar and said, “I like to see a man with initiative, Tony, and one who is willing to work. However, in the future, I think you’d better advise me quite closely of your plans.” He paused. “You may go ahead with that special location you described. Just go ahead with the rest in your own way—but keep me informed.”
“That’s swell, Mr. Angelo. Thanks.”
“Do you carry a gun?”
“Why, no, sir.” Tony never had worn a gun since he’d started. For one thing, he had seen too many guys in trouble because they’d carried a heater, and used it. And the “wrong” cops were always giving a gun-toter more trouble than guys who were clean. Besides, Tony had plenty of confidence in his fists and strength if there was ever any trouble.
Angelo said, “That’s all, Tony. I suppose you have work you want to do.”
“Yes, sir. I’m anxious to get started.”
Tony started for the door but Angelo stopped him. “I think you’d better buy a gun, Tony. Get it this afternoon. Franzen’s Sporting Goods carries what you’ll want. Incidentally, you will have no trouble getting a gun permit. I’d suggest you take care of that this afternoon, also.”
Tony felt exhilaration leaping inside him. Angelo wouldn’t have told him to carry a gun unless he had bigger things planned for him. Or maybe he just didn’t want to take a chance on Tony getting robbed some night. No telling. Tony said, “Fine, Mr. Angelo. I’ll take care of it.” He went out.
He headed down Market Street. It was already two in the afternoon. He had to arrange for the gun permit, then drop in at Franzen’s and pick up a gun. But, he didn’t even know how to use a gun, not enough to hit anything with one. He guessed he’d have to learn. Funny Angelo’s suddenly bringing that up. You couldn’t really figure the guy. It was funny, though.
chapter seven
It was Saturday night, a week after Tony’s talk with Angelo. In the bedroom of his apartment he put on a clean white shirt, then slipped gold links into the French cuffs. He selected a maroon foulard from the three dozen ties on the rack and tied it in a wide knot, then put on the coat to the chocolate-brown suit. He looked pretty good, he thought.
Maria called from the living room, “Tony, honey, you goin’ out again tonight?”
“Yeah, honey. Business.”
“I thought maybe we’d go out. We haven’t been out on a Saturday night for months. Can’t we, Tony?”
He said, “Remember I told you about talking to Angelo last week?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well,” he grinned at her, “it looks like maybe I get Sharkey’s spot. I didn’t want to mention it till I was pretty sure, but it looks good. How does that sound, baby?”
She sighed. “All right, I guess.”
“You guess? What you mean, you guess? I thought you’d be tickled pink. If I get in we’ll have so much dough we’ll be throwin’ it out the window.”
“Tony.” She reached for his hand and held it. “I know you don’t like for me to talk about it, but … I wish you weren’t gettin’ in so deep. You’re makin’ plenty money now, but you keep on the way you’re going, one of these days you won’t never be able to get out.”
“Get out? What in hell’s got into you? Who wants out? I’m gonna be somebody, baby. This is just the start for me —^for us. Hell, this is what I really been waitin’ for.”
“Tony, you think you know everything—you don’t even know what this business is really like. It’s mean and filthy and cruel.”
“I suppose you know more than I do about it, huh?” His voice was sharp, angry.
“Some of it—now, don’t get mad, Tony. But don’t forget I was working in the houses a year before you even thought about it. I was right down on the bottom, and you get a different picture of it from there. Honey, you sit up on top of it all, look down to the houses like they were part of a machine. You’re just workin’ yourself into the middle. There’s a lot of people under you, and Angelo on the other side— and a lot more over him. In the long run you’ll just get yourself in trouble, maybe get yourself kicked out or killed or something awful. Look at Alterie—and now maybe Sharkey.”
“You’re a sweet one, you are. I tell you something I think you’ll be real happy about and you start giving me a goddamn beef. Don’t you want me never to get noplace?”
She chewed on her plump lower lip. “I’m sorry, Tony. Forget it, huh? But you’ve—already you’ve changed. You’re not like you were.”
“Who the hell wants to be like I was?” He stood up.
Maria pressed her lips together, then suddenly changed the subject. “Gee, you look nice, Tony. Real sharp in that new suit.”
He glanced down at it. “Not bad, huh—oh, hell.”
He went into the bedroom and took a heavy .45 automatic and leather shoulder harness from the dresser, shrugged out of his coat and strapped on the gun and holster, then put the coat on over it. The gun made a bulge at his left armpit. Too goddamn big. He should have got one of them dinky guns that wouldn’t bulge so much. But he figured he’d better wear the thing tonight. Angelo had told him to get it, and these were Angelo’s boys he was seeing. He glanced at the new watch on his wrist, diamonds replacing the numerals. They’d be here in about ten minutes.
“What they going to do with you?” Maria sounded worried.
“I dunno.” Swan hadn’t known either. He thought about that talk with Swan, frowning. That had been a nutty deal. The guy phoned him, told him there’d be some of Angelo’s boys checking up on him, maybe taking him out on the town. It would seem casual, an accidental meeting, but Angelo had set it up to get a close check on the way Tony handled himself. Tony had started to thank Swan volubly, but Swan had interrupted him.
“Listen, Tony. I’m sticking my neck out to tell you this, and I don’t want you to labor under the delusion you black-maDed me into doing it.”
“You lose your marbles? What you talkin’ about?”
“I’m out of knee-pants, kid. I didn’t miss the point when you were talking about my ‘unpolitical background’ the other day over lunch. I wouldn’t put it past you. But that’s not my reason.”
“Ah, Swan. Don’t talk like that. That’s a crazy way to talk.”
Swan didn’t answer. Finally Tony asked, “Shark’s out for sure, huh?”
“That’s right, Tony. In his job he knows too much; he knows who gets paid off and how much, which cops and judges and officials are right and which are wrong, a hundred things like those that whoever takes over from him wiU have to know, too. And when you know that much, Tony, you’ve got to be damned careful. Shark drinks too much and sometimes talks too much drunk. And—” he hesitated— “there’s a good chance he’s been holding out some of the
take on Angelo. Things to remember, kid.”
“Well, thanks for tellin’ me. Swan. I sure appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me. I don’t have any thanks coming. Tony, this is the last payment of any and all debts, past, present, and future. This is the last time I’ll help you, or even think about helping you. You might even call it the coup de grace.”
“What the hell you talkin’ about?”
“From here to—to wherever you wind up, you’re on your own. At least as far as I’m concerned. So long, kid.”
“So long. Swan. And thanks, I mean it—”
“I told you, goddammit, don’t thank me.” He hung up.
Tony looked at the phone, then hung up the receiver. It had sounded like Swan was brushing Tony off this time. Well, the hell with Swan; he didn’t need him—or anybody else.
The chimes rang in the apartment and Tony blinked, then went to the door and opened it. He liked those chimes; they had a classy sound. Two men stood outside the door. “Hi,” Tony said. “Come on in.”
The men came in, removing their hats and light topcoats. The meeting with them had been “accidental” enough. Tony had been having lunch with Leo when they’d showed up and Leo had invited them to the table. They’d been very friendly with Tony and the four of them had lunch. That had been two days ago and the date had been made for the three of them to go out tonight. They’d claimed to be in the same business in Chicago, out here till a Congressional investigation blew over. Some Senators were putting on a big show to impress their constituents; elections weren’t far off.
“How about a drink?” Tony asked them.
They nodded and said it might chase the fog out of their stomachs. Joyce was the big one, a guy about two hundred pounds, whose name didn’t fit him. He was a tough, soHd-looking man with a pouchy, expressionless face and huge gray eyes that looked almost white against his dark skin. The other one was tall, slim and wiry as a whip, with a long, hooked nose and decaying teeth. He was called Frame. Tony didn’t know whether that was an underworld moniker, or the guy’s real name. Tony didn’t ask. Frame wasn’t the kind of guy you asked personal questions, even though he was always kidding around and cracking wise.
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