Rocco leaped over the edge of the cargo bed to the street, his knees flexing to absorb the impact. As he straightened up he drew his right arm back and drove a fist into Tommy's jaw.
The young man fell hard on his ass. He put a hand to his jaw, working it back and forth to check if it was broken. "What was that for?" He moaned.
"That's for almost killing us," Rocco said fiercely. He stepped over Tommy and headed to get Besha.
Tommy grimaced in pain as he continued working his jaw, "But...I saved you guys...."
Tony jumped to the ground beside Tommy and stepped over him, heading after his friend, "That's why you're still talking and have all your teeth. He pulled that punch."
"Oh," Tommy said as he held his jaw. "In that case, you're welcome."
BY THE TIME TONY STEPPED into his friend's apartment the argument was already hot.
Besha had her arms crossed, "I'm not running, Rocco. I'm staying here with you."
"Be reasonable, Besha."
"They could be here anytime," Tony said from the open doorway. He glanced back down the hallway towards the stairs.
Besha turned and picked up a large carving knife, "The first one through the door, I gut him like a fish."
Rocco pushed his hand through his black hair and had to smile at her spunk, "I don't doubt you'd try, but they have guns–"
Besha threw the carving knife into the sink where it clattered noisily, "Then give me a gun." She held her hand out, a determined look on her face.
Rocco looked at Tony and shook his head, "Can you believe this?"
Besha crossed her arms again in defiance, "And where exactly do I go? I don't have any family. You don't have any family. We don't have any money for me to hide in a hotel. And I'm sure I can't stay with Maria, they'll be after her too–"
"She's right," Tony agreed, "and we can't keep arguing like this, we gotta go get Maria before they get to my place–"
Rocco turned and asked loudly, "So what do we do then? She can't stay here, that's for sure."
Tony opened his mouth to answer and realized he had no ideas. He clenched his jaw and glanced back down the hallway, "I...I don't know Rocco...but ...I gotta go get Maria...."
Besha strode past Rocco, heading for the door. "Tony, you go get Maria and bring her back here–"
"But we can't do that, Besha," Rocco objected, "once they come–"
"We won't be here," Besha said, "we'll be down the hall." Besha slipped past Tony into the hallway, "You go get your wife. We'll both stay with Andrea Reppucci."
Rocco slipped past a confused Tony into the hallway, "But when those guys show up here–"
"They won't find us back there," Besha said as she kept walking with a purpose. "And keep your voice down. We don't want the whole neighborhood to know where we are going."
Rocco shook his head in frustration and took Tony's arm, talking to him in a low voice, "Go with Tommy and get Maria. There's no talking with Besha when she's like this."
Besha strode down the hallway and stopped in front of a door past the stairway and knocked softly.
Tony looked concerned, "You sure about this, Rocco?"
"No," admitted Rocco. He looked down the hall to his wife, "But...she is right, what else can we do?"
Tony grimaced. It may turn out to be a bad decision, but it was also their only decision. They had nothing else.
The doorway to the apartment swung open and a petite brunette appeared in the doorway, "Hi Besha–"
Besha wasted no time and slipped into the apartment, pulling the young woman back inside.
Tony headed for the stairs, Rocco right behind him. Tony looked back over his shoulder, "What about Tommy's folks, his mom, and pop?"
"Probably smart if they came over here too," Rocco reasoned. "Of course, if Fat Sal does find out where we all are...it'll be like shooting ducks in a barrel."
Tony nodded and started down the stairs.
Rocco headed for the open apartment door.
Tony stopped on the stairs and turned, "Hey, Rocco. Do they really do that? Shoot ducks in a barrel, I mean?"
Rocco shrugged, "How should I know?"
ROCCO STEPPED INTO the tiny apartment, closing the door behind him and immediately saw the fear on Andrea Reppucci's face. She was wringing her hands as she talked in a low voice with his wife.
A voice came from the left, "Besha says you got trouble with Russo?"
Rocco looked left, towards the sound of the familiar voice. Who–?
A tall, dark-haired, muscular man wearing jeans and a sleeveless undershirt was walking through the doorway from the bedroom.
"Skinny?"
"Yeah, how are you, Rocco?"
The two men embraced. Gianni Reppucci had been known as Skinny in the neighborhood growing up. But three years in the army during WW 1 had added muscle to the frame. Still...the nickname stuck.
Rocco stepped back and slapped his friend on the shoulder, "You're the only one that army chow agreed with. When did you get back? I thought you were...."
"He got back last week," Andrea said. "He wanted to stay out of sight for a while."
"Two years in Kingston Penitentiary makes you quick to react to the slightest threat," Gianni said solemnly, "or what you think is a threat. I thought it would be better to get a little used to being on the outside again."
"He actually went down to that new steel mill in the harbor when he first got home," Andrea added, "but...."
"But the guy doing the hiring is one of the north-side boys who knows me," Gianni explained. He didn't want a convict around–"
Andrea swore, "Bastardo."
Rocco could see the frustration with Skinny and the anger in Andrea and could understand it.
Gianni changed the subject, "I overheard Besha talking to Andrea. You got a problem with Fat Sal?"
"Yeah," Rocco admitted, "but don't worry, I'll take care of it–"
"I'm in," said Skinny.
"I can't ask–"
"You're not," Andrea interjected, "we're helping friends." She still looking scared but hugged Besha tightly.
Gianni Reppucci took a step and placed a hand on Rocco's shoulder, "You took care of me when I was a bean-pole. Now I get to help you. Besides, I've had run-ins with Russo's boys over the years like everyone else. Time for payback."
Chapter 15
TOMMY FOLLOWED ROCCO, Tony, and Gianni back down the stairs of Rocco's apartment building. His voice was filled with anguish, "Pops just doesn't feel good enough to move. And momma won't leave him. What am I gonna do?"
"They'll probably be okay," Tony said back over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Rocco agreed, "they didn't take you from the brewery when they snatched me up. They probably don't know you were with me."
Tommy didn't look convinced as the four stepped out onto the front stoop and headed for the one-ton truck parked in front, "But what about down in Apple Hill? When we took out their guys...?"
Rocco stopped and shook his head no, "I don't think they were Fat Sal's crew. He has no idea we moved the liquor out of town. He had Guido Vitale and Roman Provenzano at the restaurant, trying to figure out whose territory we were bootlegging in."
"Are they working together now?" Gianni asked. "They were always at each other's throats."
"They've had a kind of truce going for a while," Rocco answered.
"Yeah," Tony agreed. "From what I've heard at the police station, they split the city up and aren't crossing each other."
Gianni gave Tony a hard look, "So what I heard is true, you're a copper now."
Tony took a step and stuck his face in Gianni's, "Yeah, what of it?"
"It was my suggestion," Rocco interjected, "and he took it."
Gianni glanced at Rocco, his face remaining hard.
"We have someone on the inside now," Rocco continued as he put a hand on Gianni's beefy shoulder, "If that's something you can't deal with...."
Gianni looked back into Tony's defiant eyes, remaining silent for long sec
onds. Then he gave a brief nod, "Yeah. I can deal with it. As long as he doesn't turn–"
Tony sneered and edged his face closer, "You calling me–"
"Enough," Rocco yelled. "We fight Fat Sal, not each other."
Both Tony and Gianni stared hard into each other's eyes for a moment and then backed off slightly. After another tense moment, Gianni stepped back and looked at Rocco, "So...we have any weapons to fight with–?"
Tony thrust a hand forward, holding out one of the handguns Rocco had picked up in the alleyway, a Webley .445 caliber Mark V1 revolver.
Gianni looked at the gun and then at Tony before reaching out and taking it. He gripped the barrel and the grip and cracked the weapon open, checking it out, "A good service revolver. Used one in the army." He snapped the Webley shut and nodded at Tony.
Tony kept his eyes on Gianni for a moment and then turned his head to look at Rocco, "We're going to need ammo. I can sneak some boxes out of the station after dark but...."
Rocco nodded his head in understanding, "We're going to need more. Problem is they took all twenty grand–"
Gianni cocked his head in surprise, "Twenty grand? Where the hell did you get twenty grand?"
"Selling alcohol."
Turning and looking at Rocco, Gianni's eyebrows rose, You made twenty grand bootlegging?"
Rocco gave him a slight grin, "Not exactly. I'll fill you in later. If we can get out of this thing alive. Right now, we're going to have to do something to make Fat Sal back off. We can't hide our families forever. And once they see you fighting with us, Gianni, they'll come after your wife as well...."
Gianni nodded and looked down the street, thinking for a moment. Kids were playing in the street, running and laughing without a care. Gianni looked back at Rocco, "We could use more muscle as well. Fat Sal is going to come after us in force. Remember Gino Crivelli and Alessandro Moreschi?"
"Gino and Ox? Yeah. Haven't seen them around for a while."
"That's cause they were in Kingston Pen the same time as me," Gianni explained. "Only they got three years for robbing a bank in Montreal. The broad Ox was going with turned them in for the reward."
"Wouldn't want to be the broad," Tony said.
"Someone wacked her a year later, for trying to turn someone else in," Gianni said. "Anyway, Gino and Ox got out a few months back. Andrea was talking to Gino's sister and she said the two have been working odd jobs down in the harbor. I can go and talk with them...?"
Rocco gave it some thought before turning to Tommy, "Is my truck still at the distillery?"
"It was when I left to follow Fat Sal's goons."
"Okay. Let's go back and see. If it is, I'll go with Gianni and talk to Gino and Ox. You take Tony to the station." He looked at Tony, "Get all the ammo you can. But don't take any chances and get caught. We might need inside information to stay one step ahead of Fat Sal."
Tony nodded agreement with the strategy, "When I'm there, I'll see if anything has been reported yet on the shooting at Marsala Ristorante. Maybe Tommy took out enough of them to make this easier."
IT WAS DARK, THE AIR was cool and a light dusting of snow lay over the street and plank sidewalks. Tony and Tommy sat in the one-ton truck just down the street from the front of Fat Tony's place, the Marsala Ristorante. The street was quiet and empty.
Tommy finished inserting the last .45 ACP cartridge into the detachable box magazine for the Thompson and passed it to Tony, "Here, number two done. Now what?"
Tony set the two-tone brown Colt Model 1911 semi-automatic pistol he was loading on the seat and took the magazine. He reached down to the floor of the cab and picked up a roll of white hospital tape and tore off a long strip. Then he picked up the first magazine Tommy had filled, placed it side by side with the second magazine and taped the two together.
"Why you doing that?" Tommy asked as he watched closely.
"Taping the magazines together like this will make reloading faster for you. When one is empty, just replace it with the other. There, how's that?"
Tommy's eyes went big as he took the taped bundle from Tony's hand, "That's real nifty." He grabbed the Thompson that was leaning against the inside of the driver side door and practiced loading and unloading the twin magazine.
Tony saw how Tommy was carelessly pointing the weapon down at his feet and he reached over and lifted the direction of the barrel, "Just be careful or you'll shoot yourself and be Tommy No Feet."
Tommy laughed but his eyes never left the weapon as he practiced to increase his reload speed.
Lights coming from behind their truck caught Tony's attention and he glanced back, wondering who it was as he gripped the Colt and readied himself for anything. He glanced at Tommy, who didn't seem concerned as he continued to practice. Shaking his head slightly, Tony glanced back again.
The vehicle pulled in behind the one-ton and the lights went off. Someone stepped out on the driver's side.
"It's Rocco," Tony said and he jumped out and headed back. "Everything work out?"
"Yeah."
A man stepped out of the passenger side. It was Gianni.
Two others jumped off the back cargo box.
Tony recognized them immediately, "Gino. Ox." The men embraced and slapped each other on the back.
Tommy finally got out and walked back, Thompson in hand.
Rocco pointed to him, "And this is Tommy Giachetti from the neighborhood. This is Gino and Ox."
Tommy nodded in greeting and held the weapon pointing up, "Machine gun Tommy."
Ox looked at him and the weapon with some skepticism, "You sure that thing isn't too big for you?"
"That's what I say to my girlfriend," Tommy replied with a cheeky grin.
Gino put his hands on his hips, "I'd believe that before I even believe you had a girlfriend."
Tommy's eyebrows knit together, unsure how to take the comment.
Rocco slapped Tommy on the shoulder, "They're busting your balls, kid." He looked at Tony, "Were you able to get much?"
Tony nodded and reached into the cargo box of the truck and picked up a flour sack. He pulled out Colt pistols for Rocco, Gianni, Ox, and Gino. He passed several boxes of ammo to each man before reaching in for a second sack and pulling out two sawed-off shotguns, "We confiscated these last month from a bootlegger."
Ox and Gino each took one along with several boxes of shotgun shells.
"I've got three more Colts in the sack along with more ammo," Tony continued. "And this," he said as he held out something to Rocco.
Rocco took it in hand, "A derringer?"
"Gold-plated and pearl-handled," Tony said. "Took it off a gambler two months ago. Shoots .22s so it's not very powerful, but it could come in handy sometime."
"Thanks, Tony," Rocco said as he slipped it into his right pants pocket, "I'll have to get a suit with a vest someday to wear it properly."
Tony cast a thumb over his shoulder, changing the subject, "We saw some activity inside the restaurant. They've repaired the window frames and the glass and stuff that Tommy here destroyed."
Tommy grinned.
Ox and Gino glanced at each other and raised an eyebrow, a little more impressed with the kid.
"I suggest me and Tommy attack from the front," Tony continued. "You four head for the back alley and pick off anyone who comes out."
Rocco looked at the others, "Sounds good. As long as they don't come out front, guns blazing away instead."
Tony shook his head as he slipped his Colt into his waistband. He reached into the cargo box again and picked up something carefully, "I got that taken care of." He held a bottle with a rag hanging from the top.
Gianni looked closer, "A whiskey bottle?"
"Yeah, but I drank the whiskey and replaced it with a mixture of petrol and kerosene. Soaked the rag in the mixture–"
Ox recognized what it was, "A frigging petrol bomb? I like how you think. Nasty."
TOMMY AND TONY WAITED in the truck long enough to let the others get in place. The
n Tommy drove the truck quickly to the front of Marsala Ristorante where they jumped out before the truck even stopped sliding on the light snow.
Tommy stood in the street with his feet set wide apart, placed the Thompson at his hip and pulled the trigger, yelling in glee as the rat-tat-tat rang loudly off the surrounding buildings. The new window glass shattered and bullets ripped through the new wood frame of the window, seeking out targets inside the restaurant.
Tony struck a match and lit the rag. Then he waited for a moment.
Tommy kept firing until his first magazine was empty. "Okay, go," he yelled as he pulled the empty magazine.
Tony ran forward and tossed the bottle through the broken window. He shrank back as the petrol-kerosene mixture exploded in a mass of light, heat and angry flames.
Tommy stepped up beside Tony, second magazine ready and he opened up again, yelling loudly in harmony with the deafening rat-ta-tat-tat of the Tommy gun.
IN THE BACK ALLEY, the four men were ready.
Bodies tumbled out the back door of the restaurant, fear etched across their faces and in their eyes...and they ran into a hail of bullets.
A shotgun blast ripped the lead man in two.
Another blast a few seconds later blew the arm off another man.
The men still back in the restaurant pulled their weapons as they continued running forward and a two-way gun battle broke out as they plunged into the alleyway.
The shots were deafening in the narrow alley and gun-smoke clouded the view on both sides.
Ox took a bullet and went down.
Gianni threw his empty handgun to the ground and reached for the shotgun Ox had dropped. He was halfway up when someone yelled a warning. Gianni half-turned and fired, the shotgun pellets turning Lauriano 'Meatball' Achille's face into meat-sauce.
Silence only descended when no more men emerged from the open doorway.
A dozen riddled bodies lay in the alleyway.
Flames devoured the insides of Marsala Ristorante.
Chapter 16
King of the Bootleggers Page 7