Rosemary suddenly pled, “Frank, I’m sorry—for so many things. I’ve been awful!”
He shook his head, and there was a thickening in his throat. He cleared it and managed, “You’ve had a hard time.” That was not what he meant to say, and he finally gasped out, “What I mean is—I’m sorry I wasn’t a little easier with you, Pet.”
His sudden and unplanned use of his old nickname for her suddenly brought tears into Rosemary’s eyes. She turned her face away so that he would not see, but could not keep her body from the sobs that suddenly racked her.
He stood there, a big man filled with all the hardness of the life that had been his lot, his face twisted with an emotion that he had not known could touch him. Awkwardly, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Rosemary— don’t cry!” He wanted to say more, for the sight of her weeping had broken something in him. His own eyes burned, something he’d felt so rarely that it shocked him. He patted her shoulder, then admitted, “I—I guess we’re all having a hard time, Pet. But we’re going to make it.”
She turned her tear-stained face toward him and whispered, “I love you, Frank! I always have!”
Her words ran like a shock down his spine, and he could not answer. Though he wanted to say something, he could not find the words. Finally he bent down and kissed her lips, then walked stiffly out of the room. She lay there in the bed, and when the door closed, she wept as she had not for years. “Oh, God,” she prayed, “give me back his love!”
Frank left the room and was shocked at the emotions that seemed to batter him. He was a private sort of man, not given to expressions of love, and the scene had left him drained. For some time he had been aware that the one thing that he prized above all things—his family—was slipping away, was, in fact, lost to him. The death of his brother Phil and the crisis with the Martino gang had consumed all his energies, but as he entered the den and sat down in the dim light, he struggled with the tidal wave of problems that had crashed in on him.
Moving over to one of the tall windows, he stood staring out at the moonlit terrace. The full moon was frozen in the sky, huge and silver. It was a peaceful scene—but none of it meant anything to Frank Lanza. Finally he turned and made his way to the study.
Opening the door, he found his father sitting across the desk from Dani. Both looked up as he came in. “Who won?” Dani asked with a smile.
“A tie,” he answered and went over to pour himself a drink. “What are you doing up this time of night?” he demanded of his father.
Dom’s old eyes glinted with a sudden gleam of humor. “I didn’t want to waste time sleeping,” he remarked. “Dani’s found something that’s interesting.”
“In the books?” Frank asked in surprise. “They bore me to death.”
“This won’t,” Dom promised. “There’s a big hunk of money missing.”
The statement brought Frank’s head up instantly. “You mean—stolen?”
“I can’t say that,” Dani denied quickly. She waved at the papers on the desk, which she had arranged into neat little piles. “I don’t have all the books here. And even if I had, it’d take longer than a couple of hours to make any sense out of them.” She looked puzzled, then shook her head. “All I can say, Frank, is that something is wrong. It may be a very simple thing, but some funds have just disappeared. Maybe they’ve been transferred, and the record of transfer isn’t here. But from what I see here, I’d say you need an outside audit.”
Frank and his father exchanged a quick glance. Dani didn’t realize that their particular business was not subject to outside auditors. Of course one level of accounting had to be open to the tax people, but there were other layers that were buried, stockpiled, and carefully concealed. Dom asserted, “I think we must find out about this ‘transfer,’ but not from an outsider.”
“Couldn’t you do it, Dani?” Frank asked. “I know you’re busy, but I’d like to keep this in the family.”
Dani was flustered. “I—I don’t see how, Frank. After all, I’m not really family. And—”
“And you might learn more about the Lanza business than you want to know?” Smiling at her, Dom shook his head. “Well, I can understand that. But all we want is a bookkeeping answer. An overlook of all our enterprises. You’ll be shocked to learn, Danielle, that we operate quite a few honorable businesses.”
“I’ll have to think about it, Dom,” Dani fended him off. She rose, adding, “I have to go now. Remember, there may be a reasonable explanation about the books. Good night. And Frank, I think you’d better spend more time playing Monopoly.”
When she left, Frank asked at once, “What do you think?”
Dom closed his eyes and thought hard. “Get Savage in here, Frank.”
Frank stared at him, then shrugged his shoulders. He went to the desk, picked up the phone, and dialed. “Savage? This is Frank. My father would like to see you. Sure, that’ll be fine.” He put down the phone and asked, “What does Savage have to do with the books?”
“Nothing. This is something else.” Dom lay back in the chair, and Frank said no more. Finally, he did remark, “We’ll have to get with Eddy and Max on this problem.”
“No, get Sam Vino to do it.”
“Sam? Sure, he could do it. But we’ll have to let him know more than we’ve ever let an outsider know.”
“Sam’s all right.”
Five minutes later the two men heard a tap on the door. “Come in,” Frank invited. Savage entered and came to stand in front of the two men. “Sorry to keep you up, Ben,” Frank apologized.
“No problem. What’s up?”
Dom opened his eyes slowly. “Ben, I’ve been thinking about what you mentioned the other day—about throwing a scare into Martino. Do you think it can be done?”
“Maybe.” Savage’s squarish face and deep-set eyes picked up the shadows from the light overhead. He looked tough as he stood there with his short, broken nose and the shelf of bone over his eyes. The scar on his forehead traced its way into his left eyebrow, and there was an air of certainty in his manner as he considered the older Lanza. “I’ve done harder stunts.”
“What’s this about?” Frank asked.
“Tell him, Ben.” Dom nodded.
“I think you’ve got a chance to stop the pressure,” Savage explained. “Ring won’t scare, but Joe Martino isn’t the man old Sal was. Scare him bad enough, and he’ll pull back.”
“Scare him how?” Frank demanded. “He’s protected like the president.”
“Any security can be broken,” Savage pointed out quietly. “You’ve discovered that. If somebody got to Joe and shoved a gun up his nose, I think he’d break.”
Frank stared at him. “You’re saying you can get at him? Faye says hit them with an army, that nobody can get at Joe Martino personally.”
Savage shrugged. “Never know about things like that.”
“Would you be willing to try, Ben?” Dom asked.
“If the boss lady says it’s all right with her.”
Dom nodded slowly. “We’ll pay for the job.”
Savage explained, “I’m not pulling a trigger on him, you understand? Dani wouldn’t stand for that. And even if you did get Joe out of the way, you’d have Johnny Ring in charge. But if you can scare Joe enough, he’ll dump Ring, and then you won’t have to worry about any more calls from Martino’s goons.”
“How much time will you need?” Dom asked.
“Vince gave me all the dope on Martino’s security,” Savage told them. “It was really his idea.” He paused and noted, “Somebody’s going to go down for taking Vince out. I liked him.”
Both Lanzas stared at Savage, uncertainly. Finally Dom agreed, “We’ll try it. Ben, ask for what you need.” He got up and moved slowly across the floor. When he was gone, Frank ordered, “Make it soon, Savage. This thing is getting hot.”
“Sure.” Savage left the room and went to knock on Dani’s door. When she opened it, he insisted, “It’s time for a committee meeting, Boss.” St
epping inside, he told her quickly what had happened. “I think it can be done,” he ended.
“No, Ben,” she instantly responded. “It’s too dangerous.”
“So is driving on the freeway.” He shrugged. “If it works, we’re out of here. Which I’m ready for.”
She argued with him, but he remained stubborn. Finally she unveiled her greatest fear, “I’ve got the feeling if I tell you not to do it, you’ll quit and do it on your own.”
He grinned toughly. “If you’ve got such a feeling, Boss, I guess it’s your womanly intuition.” Then he sobered. “It’s a tough job,” he admitted, “but not much worse than what we’ve had around here. Ring is just the sort of hairpin to send troops in and wipe us all out. Anyway, I think I can do it and save my precious body.”
Dani wanted to forbid it, but knew that he would grin and go right at the job. She grabbed his arm and ordered, “Ben—be careful!”
“Sure.” He nodded. “You can have my watch, if I don’t come back.”
“Don’t—don’t joke about it!” she admonished him, and he saw that her hand was trembling. “I’m a little bit lost, Ben,” she whispered. Without warning, she suddenly leaned against him, her face on his shoulder.
He stood there, surprised at her reaction. He knew her to be a strong woman, for time and time again he had seen her come up and face something that would floor most people. Now he felt a little perplexed. He put his arms around her and waited until the tremors in her body ceased. Pulling back, he looked at her steadily. “I’ll be all right,” he comforted her. “You mind the store while I’m gone.”
Suddenly Dani realized that she was holding on to him and pulled back with some embarrassment. “Sorry to be such a crybaby, Ben,” she apologized. “Guess I’m just a weak woman, even after all the things I’ve done to make you think differently.”
He shook his head as he stepped back. “You’re a good guy, Boss. I’ll be in touch.” He left quickly, and she went back to stare out of her window, noting that the clouds were blowing in to cover the face of the silver moon.
Joseph Martino was tired of the meeting. For three hours he had sat at the table, saying little but listening as his three top lieutenants tried to hammer out their disagreement. Mickey Spinelli was even more hotheaded than Johnny Ring, which was saying a lot. The thin Sicilian had a pair of hot black eyes and the morals of a cobra. Over and over again he sang one song, “Go in and take Lanza out!”
Ring was more cautious, but not much. He disagreed only on timing and methods. As always, he dominated the group, with his dark eyes missing nothing. He had let Spinelli talk, then interjected, “Mickey is right about one thing, Joe. Sooner or later Lanza is going to wake up. If Phil were alive, I don’t think we’d all be in this room right now. He’d have hit us like a ton of bricks!”
“But Frank isn’t Phil,” L. D. Burger argued. This tall, heavy man, dressed in the latest fashion, was balding, but his tanned face remained youthful. “I say we ride it out. Just keep your guys pushing at Lanza’s operation. We’ll take it over with no big bang.”
Both Ring and Spinelli objected violently. “No way!” Ring exclaimed, his thick body tense. “Frank ain’t Phil, but he’s a Lanza. The old man may be dying, but I know him! All he has to do is say one word, and we’ll get hit with stuff you never even thought of, Joe! It’ll be like the time your old man had it out with Dom. No, we’ve got to hit him hard and often.”
Joe Martino got up and shook his head. “You three can sit here all night, if you want to. I’m going to bed.”
“Let’s let it ride,” Burger agreed smoothly. He was a man who lived by compromise and deals, so he saw that Joe was not going to budge. Winking at Johnny, he promised, “We’ll talk again. Right now we’re all right, and I don’t want any big trouble hitting the papers. We don’t need any publicity at the moment.”
Ring stared at him, then nodded. “All right, L. D.” But a fierce determination etched itself on his round face, and his small mouth was set like flint.
Martino saw this, but was too tired to argue. “I’m going to bed,” he announced and left the room. Going up the stairs, he passed Fred DeSpain, the inside guard, and greeted him, “Good night, Freddie.”
“Good night, Mr. Martino,” DeSpain answered. “Have a good night.” DeSpain was a tall, thin man with silver hair and a pair of steady gray eyes. He was in charge of security, and every night he stood right outside Martino’s door. At dawn another man relieved him.
DeSpain waited until Martino was up the stairs, then crossed to the phone on the table by the large entrance door. “Mac?” he questioned softly. “Ring and the others are leaving. As soon as they’re gone, lock up, then send Al and Blinky to check the lines. No, nothing special going on, but want to keep them on their toes.”
Putting the phone down, he began systematically checking all the entrances. DeSpain was an electrical genius and had nothing but contempt for most security systems. He had spent a long time designing this one, but he knew it was only strong when it was maintained and upgraded. “I could get through every bit of this system,” he’d told Ring. “And if I can do it, there’s another guy out there who can do it. The thing to do is to keep changing it. That and put a fail-safe on every part of it.”
So he had put each entrance on a separate circuit. That way, there was no chance of an intruder putting the whole system out of order. Each window and each door was independently wired and equipped with a laser beam. Anything coming through would set off the bleeper DeSpain wore day and night, as well as the central alarm in the guardhouse at the main gate.
He activated each entrance, then tested it by putting his hand in the space. Each time, he was gratified to hear the bleeper on his belt make a shrill noise. Finally he was satisfied. Going upstairs, he sat down in the special chair beside the door to the Martino’s suite. At 11:20 the lights suddenly dimmed, but only for a moment. At midnight he got up and went downstairs. He waited by the phone, and when it rang, he said, “Okay, Mac?”
“Nothing happening, Fred. You want me to send the guys out again at two o’clock?”
“Sure. Keep them awake. Did the lights dim down there?”
“Oh, yeah, I got a call from the power people about an hour ago. They asked if we’d had any kind of power shortage. Said an eighteen-wheeler had ploughed into a power pole. Killed two guys and knocked out some of the relays in this area. Said they’d send a guy out to check the transformer.”
DeSpain frowned. If the main power went off, he had a large generator to take over, but it was not as reliable as the main source. “All right. Be ready to kick the generator in if there’s a power shortage.” He hung up the phone and checked the systems again. All were working, so he had a cup of coffee and a sandwich in the kitchen, then went back and sat down in his chair. At 1:30 the lights dimmed again, and he checked with Mac at the main gate by phone.
“Yes, Fred, the guy from the power company is here. He’s been up that big pole at the entrance. He’s at his truck now, talking to somebody. You wanna talk to him?”
“Yes. Put him on.” DeSpain waited for a few minutes, then a voice said, “Harold Dale. Who is this?”
“Fred DeSpain. What’s the trouble?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s too serious,” Dale informed him. “The main transformer had a subsidiary fuse knocked out. I put that right. You haven’t had any problem since midnight, have you?”
“Yes. The lights dimmed just a few minutes ago.”
Dale was silent, then he spoke doubtfully. “Can’t understand that. Say, there’s a smaller transformer somewhere inside the property, isn’t there?”
“Yes. Your company put it in about two years ago, when we installed a lot of new equipment. You think it could be damaged?”
“I dunno. Maybe I better have a look-see. Them lights in there shouldn’t have dimmed.”
“Come on up. Let me talk to the guard.” DeSpain waited until Mac came on the line, then ordered, “Let him in, Mac.
He shouldn’t take too long. Check him when he goes out.” He hung up, then went out into the drive to wait. A white truck with a yellow light on top and CENTRAL POWER COMPANY painted on the side came down the road. DeSpain waved him over, and a man with a yellow hard hat stuck his head out the window. “Where’s the transformer?” he asked.
“Over here.” It was only a short distance, so DeSpain walked instead of getting in. When he stopped and pointed up, the truck stopped, and the man got out. “That’s it,” he declared, pointing up.
“Won’t take a minute.” The repairman went up the pole expertly and opened a door on the steel box. He probed at the inside, then slammed the door and came down the pole. “That’s it,” he said in disgust. “But I don’t have the part to put it right. Have to call in.” He waved at his truck. “Phone’s out of order. Got one I can use?”
DeSpain nodded. “Inside.” As he led the way to the house, he asked, “How long will it take?”
“When I get the part, about ten minutes.” DeSpain led the way through the side door and waved at a phone on a small table. The repair man dialed, waited, then casually took a gun out of his belt and aimed it at DeSpain.
“You’re going to feel bad about this, Fred,” he warned pleasantly. “Now, let’s have the gun.”
“What gun?” DeSpain asked, his mind racing. He was very fast and considered pulling his own weapon from his shoulder holster, but something in the eyes of the man holding the magnum on him kept him still.
“Second thoughts are usually best,” the other suggested. He reached out and plucked the gun from under Fred’s arm, then ordered, “Turn around, easy like, and put your hands behind you.”
“You’ll never get out of here alive,” DeSpain commented, but there was no answer. His wrists were suddenly bound with what seemed to be a piece of wire, and then he was turned around. The intruder had put his gun away and pulled a roll of duct tape from his pocket. Ripping off a small strip, he slapped it firmly over Fred’s mouth. “Come along, now, and I’ll put you where you can’t do any mischief.”
Deadly Deception Page 18