The Birth of an Assassin

by Tony Bertot

  “The rest of you go and see what the news is on the streets. Do not come back unless you got something to report. Also, get some muscle over to the hospital, in case this was a mob hit,” Ricardo told them.

  Sal and I will go over to pay our respects to the family.

  Bolnaldo and Clemente stared at the television as the news of Anzio’s death hit all the stations.

  “Talk about luck. I guess this asshole isn’t going to be bothering us anymore,” Bolnaldo said.

  “You think he was behind the hits, boss?” asked Clemente.

  “Well, we’ll find out soon enough. If the attacks stop; then we know,” Bolnaldo replied.

  “You think this was an accident?” asked Clemente.

  “Shit, I don’t know. It wasn’t us. Could be the same assholes who have been hitting us. Maybe they’re sending a message. You know the people over in Queens have not shown themselves to us; that aint normal. Usually the old people confront the new people when they come into town. These people never showed their faces. Doesn’t make sense to me,” Bolnaldo concluded.

  “Well now we got a chance to meet them,” responded Clemente.

  “How you figure?” Bolnaldo asked him.

  “Boss, it would be disrespectful if we don’t show up to the funeral,” Clemente responded.

  “Oh yeah, I guess you’re right. I guess we’re going to finally meet our neighbors,” Bolnaldo said grinning.

  Al Giovanna was on the phone with Frank Sabrisio two minutes after hearing about Anzio Giordano. Al wanted to know if Bolnaldo had anything to do with the hit. Frank informed him that he had no idea and he would get back to him right away.

  “We don’t want a fucking war to start up. You understand?” Al was almost shouting.

  “Yeah, Al. We know. I’m sure Bolnaldo wouldn’t do something like that without first clearing it with you”

  After speaking with Bolnaldo, Frank assured the Giovanna family that no member of Bolnaldo’s family had anything to do with Anzio’s death.

  “OK then, you and your brother need to join us in New York. We all need to pay our respect to the family. You don’t need to bring a lot of muscle. I’m sure Bolnaldo will provide the necessary protection. Hai capito?” Al asked him.

  “Yeah, I gotcha,” responded Frank.

  The Interview

  Long Island/New York

  Further inquiry into the accident discovered the car that collided with the Giordano’s car was owned by a Mr. Michael O’Shea, the son of a United States Congressional Representative.

  Detective Harrison out of the Queens precinct, known for his tactfulness, was assigned the task of bringing in Mr. O’Shea for questioning.

  Detective Ross Harrison arrived at the Congressman’s home in Dix Hills, Long Island at around 2:00 pm. The five bedroom home was on a fifteen-acre lot, which ran alongside an immaculately kept golf course shared by five other neighbors. Accompanying the detective was Officer Gruelich, who had volunteered to work the case with the detective.

  “Wow, what a layout!” commented Gruelich.

  “Yeah, looks like they got the bucks. Our tax dollars at work,” added the Detective.

  Both approached the front door and rang the bell.

  After a few seconds a woman appeared.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m detective Harrison and this is Officer Gruelich. We are looking for a Mr. Michael O’Shea. Is he here?”

  “No, he’s not here at the moment. I’m his mother. What is this about?” she asked.

  “Does your son own a Packard Eight /120 two door coupe convertible?” the detective asked.

  “Why, yes he does. Have you found it?” she inquired.

  “What do you mean, ma’am?” asked the officer.

  “The car was stolen over two weeks ago,” she responded.

  “Did you report it to the police” the detective asked.

  “Why, yes. I am sure my husband reported it as soon as my son told him,” she answered.

  “Well. Did you find it?” she asked again.

  “The car was involved in a fatal accident over a week ago. We need to speak with your son as soon as possible.”

  “You don’t think he was involved do you?” she asked. “He’s been upstate for the last two months,” she added.

  After a few more questions, the officers left.

  On the way back to Queens, Officer Gruelich mentioned that he did not recall anyone reporting a stolen Packard.

  “Well we’ll find out soon enough,” replied the detective.

  Upon arrival at the Queens precinct, they confirmed with Long Island police a report had been filed of a Packard two-door coupe as stolen. The report indicated the O’Shea family filed it over two weeks ago.

  “Can you send us a copy?” asked Detective Harrison.

  “Sure, no problem,” was the response.

  Two days later, they received the report.

  It revealed the car had been stolen from their driveway two weeks ago and it was reported by Mr. James O’Shea.

  Detective Harrison walked into the captain’s office and sat himself down in front of his desk.

  “Captain, I think we have a problem,” he said.

  Captain Frank Dempsey stared at his detective for a second.

  “Ok. Let me have it. I know from your expression it isn’t good news,” he said.

  “During the interview with Mrs. O’Shea she mentioned that her husband reported the car stolen after her son had told him. Yet she advised us that her son was upstate for the last two months. It was reported stolen from in front of their home in Dix Hills. How did the kid know the car was missing if he was upstate for the last two months?” Harrison finished.

  “Dammit! You think she’s lying? What about the police report? Doesn’t that clear the kid?” asked the captain.

  “Well I guess it does but I couldn’t find any APB’s on the stolen Packard and I went back three weeks,” Harrison added.

  “Call the L.I. precinct back and asked them why we never got an all points on the Packard,” the captain ordered.

  After conferring with the L.I. police, Detective Harrison reported the O’Shea family did not want any publicity and asked it be kept confidential.

  Detective Harrison advised his captain and after a lengthy discussion decided there was not much more to go on. A call to the O’Shea’s residence resulted in stern resistance in having their son come in for questioning. Surprisingly, Congressman James O’Shea called the captain back and advised him his son was still upstate but would be available at the end of the week when he returns.

  At the end of the week Michael O’Shea, accompanied by his father and a lawyer, showed up at the Queens precinct. Michael O’Shea, was released after he was able to provide an alibi for his whereabouts at the time of the accident. Investigation of his alibi corroborated his story completely. His friends confirmed that he had been upstate for the last two months.

  By the time young O’Shea got to the precinct, it was all over the news and there were reporters in full pursuit of a juicy story.

  Funeral of a Mobster

  Queens/ New York

  Fazio Giordano held his son in his arms as he walked down the steps of the church where they held his grandfather’s services. There were at least six limousines on the street alongside the church and another fifteen or more waiting along the side streets. Across from the church reporters were snapping pictures and shouting questions, - questions Fazio chose to ignore.

  His thoughts were on his daughter and grandmother who were still in the hospital. Moved from intensive care, his grandmother was in stable condition while Felicia was still in critical condition with a fractured skull. Doctors were keeping a close eye on her, watching the swelling and other abnormal activity that may occur. A pediatric neurosurgeon was flying in from Chicago and expected to arrive later in the day.

  Protection for Fazio and his family arrived in the form of some rough looking men. T
hough Fazio told them they were not needed, they ignored him and took positions outside of his daughter’s and grandmother’s room. In addition, another man took position outside of the waiting room. As a result, only known family and friends occupied the waiting room. Strangers intimidated by these men turned away. Fazio stared at them and wondered how was it possible that his grandfather was involved with these people without his knowing it.

  The day before the service, Officer Gruelich came to him with the news they were unable to identify or apprehend the driver of the Packard. They did track down the owner of the vehicle which was reported stolen a couple of weeks back.

  The funeral procession moved slow through the streets of Queens as it made its way toward Mt. St. Mary’s Cemetery.

  At the entrance to the cemetery there were over fifty reporters hoping to get a glimpse of those attending the funeral. As the procession entered no one outside of the family was allowed in. Of course they could not stop the FBI photographer from getting in and snapping pictures, though it was done from a safe and respectful distance.

  The entire area was blanketed with police officers either in squad cars, horseback, or on foot. Atop the buildings across the street were police snipers scanning the entire area for any suspicious-looking characters. One of the officers remarked to another that all the suspicious-looking characters where part of the entourage, which brought laughter from all those within earshot.

  As the services concluded, one by one the members of the different crime families came before Fazio to express their condolences. Fazio listened to each one, nodded and shook hands; while all the time wondering who these people were, where did they come from and if any of them had anything to do with what happened to his family.

  Ricardo Gallo handed him a piece of paper with his name and telephone number asking him to call him in the event the police could not determine who caused the accident. Fazio looked up into this man’s eyes and saw something he liked, someone he could trust. Fazio nodded and thanked him.

  “Yes. I will call if I need you. Thank you,” Fazio said responding to his offer.

  When the services were over Fazio returned to the hospital to check on his daughter.

  As the various figures were retreating to their limousines, Bolnaldo and Clemente spotted John Battanio and Ray Spandoza leaning up against one of the limousines. Both John and Ray spotted Bolnaldo and Clemente, acknowledged their presence with a nod and a smile, got into the limousine and drove away.

  “Those were them, the two that showed up at our headquarters pretending to be sent by Chicago,” Clemente said to Bolnaldo.

  “Yeah, I know,” responded Bolnaldo.

  A few minutes later Bolnaldo and Clemente got into their limousine and drove off.

  Both Ricardo Gallo and Sal Manetti had seen their men get into the limousine and drive away.

  “Wonder where they’re off to? Think they saw someone they knew?”

  “Yeah, guess we lost our ride,”

  Both were mildly amused.

  A few minutes later Ray and John picked them up outside the cemetery.

  What they did not notice was the limousine across the street with Bolnaldo and Clemente, watching them.

  The Gathering

  New York City/La Ristorante

  La Ristorante, located on Mulberry Street in downtown Manhattan, was Bolnaldo’s favorite hangout. The participants of the funeral service had agreed to meet for an early brunch and a final farewell to Anzio Giordano.

  The gathering consisted of the various members and associates of four crime families. Bolnaldo, Clemente, and their top lieutenants (Mario Pierina, Rico Vitalia, Louie Bertolonia and his brother Eddie Bertolonia) represented one family. Frank and Emilio Sabrisio, Alfonso and his son Anthony Giovanna were from Chicago. Eric Russo and Joey Costa from San Francisco and finally Ricardo Gallo and Sal Manetti, who took over the organization from Anzio Giordano. A fact that was unknown to those attending this luncheon.

  Bolnaldo, as host, was the first to stand up and offer a toast to Anzio.

  “May Anzio rest in peace and not run into any of those he sent before him.”

  “Salute!”

  Everyone laughed, and with glasses raised responded, “Salute!”

  Rising, Al Giovanna said,

  “I met Anzio some 25 years ago. I learned that as much as I did not like him, I respected him. He was an honest crook.”

  The comment was followed by an eruption of laughter.

  “It was he who brought peace to New York allowing us to do our business without having to worry about being harassed by city officials, Salute!”

  Then Eric Russo stood and the place became instantly quiet.

  Eric Russo and Joey Costa were the heads of two of the most powerful crime families in the United States with strong ties to Italy and Sicily. Their power extended to Las Vegas and most casinos across the states.

  “For those of you who don’t know me let me introduce myself. My name is Eric Russo and I am here with my friend Joey Costa (Joey rose in his chair and nodded). We are here, like you, paying our respect to a man I came to know over the last 35 years. Anzio was the kind of man who didn’t mince words; if he didn’t like you, you would know it. Nevertheless, that was not to say he did not respect your views and give you a chance to speak your mind without retribution. People learned that about Anzio and like Mr. Giovanna said, ‘he was an honest crook.’ I will miss him. Salute!”

  Everyone immediately stood, raised their glasses, and shouted.

  “Salute!”

  Eric waited for everyone to settle down before continuing.

  “On another matter, I want you all to listen to what I am about to say. Anzio’s wife and great granddaughter are still in the hospital from this tragic accident. His grandson, Fazio, spends his time there every day, praying that his daughter and grandmother will live to walk away. Fazio is not part of any of our organizations. Anzio wanted it that way and out of respect we have stayed away. I am asking everyone of you to keep hands off this man and his family. This is a matter for the police and unless Fazio Giordano approaches us for help, we are to stay clear of the investigation. I hope this is understood.”

  Al Giovanna stood and nodded.

  “We understand, Mr. Russo,” Al responded nodding and raising his glass.

  “Salute!” Eric Russo shouted.

  “Salute!” Everyone responded.

  Some of Bolnaldo’s men were upset with what Eric Russo had said. However, no one would dare challenge it. Though some were angered by Eric Russo’s words, it would be seen as disrespect to dispute him during the farewell address.

  They all returned to their meals and ate in silence.

  Before going their separate ways, the “dons” stopped at Mr. Russo’s and Mr. Costa’s table to bid them a safe trip back to San Francisco.

  Bolnaldo offered four of his bodyguards to watch over them as a form of respect, an offer respectfully declined by both men.

  “Thank you, my friend, but I know my way around the city and I have the companionship of my good friends here next to me,” Eric Russo replied pointing to both Ricardo Gallo and Sal Manetti.

  “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure,” Bolnaldo said in response.

  Without missing a beat, Eric stood, shook Bolnaldo’s hand, and bid him farewell, ignoring his question.

  Bolnaldo felt his face redden and nodded without meeting Eric’s eyes. Clemente was not as cordial and stared directly at Eric and gave a cold smile. Eric returned his cold smile and laughed in his face.

  “Clemente Marino. You have not aged a day since I last saw you. You must work out or eat healthy. What is your secret?” Eric asked him as he stared back.

  “I keep my friends close and my enemies closer,” was his response.

  Eric laughed even louder.

  “I see. Make sure you keep them in front of you so you can see them coming and going,” responded Eric.

  “I’ll do that. Thank you for the advice,�
�� Clemente replied as he shook his hand and walked away.

  “I don’t think those men like me,” Eric commented to the men next to him.

  “You could be right,” replied Sal in a mocking tone.

  Seeing that the restaurant was empty, Eric turned to Sal and Ricardo.

  “Well, gentlemen what do you say we take a chance and step out into enemy territory?”

  Sal got up, walked towards the entrance of the restaurant and stepped out. After looking both ways, he waved at the limousine on the corner.

  The limousine pulled up and Sal stepped back into the restaurant.

  From across, the street two men waited and watched.

  After twenty minutes, the limousine pulled out without anyone from the restaurant getting in.

  “What the…” said one of the men.

  They left their sanctuary and walked towards the restaurant. Pretending to be walking by, they noticed the lights off and no one inside. Two of their accomplices on the other side of the street, crossed over and met them halfway down the block.

  “Where’d they go? Crap I bet they left through the backdoor. Bolnaldo is going to have our heads,” one of the men said.

  They rushed to the back of the building and saw a limousine pulling out and going in the opposite direction.

  “Quick - get the cars,” one of the men ordered.

  They piled into their car and within a minute, caught up to the limo, remaining a safe distance behind.

  The men followed the limousine all the way to a limousine rental shop owned by Bolnaldo’s own organization.

  When they reached the limo, except for the driver, they found it empty. The driver told them he’d been paid to sit on the street behind La Ristorante until a certain time and then drive back to the shop. To add insult to injury, the driver insisted that the caller identified himself as Bolnaldo Costellino.

  Back at the restaurant Sal stepped back out into the street and waved. On the corner a block away, Ray Spandoza waved back. Within thirty seconds, a limousine driven by John Battanio pulled up in front of La Ristorante. Ray caught up and stepped into the front passenger seat while the rest of the men piled into the back. Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to Long Island.