Mick Sinatra: For Once In My Life
Page 13
Leo pressed the button again. “Bring them in,” he said to Nan.
And within seconds, Paul and Silvio entered the office.
“I don’t like it when you guys come here,” Leo immediately said as the two men approached the desk.
“Fuck you, Leo,” Silvio responded. “Who the fuck cares what you like?”
“Trouble?” Mick asked Paul.
“Trouble,” Paul said. “We’ve got ourselves another breach.”
Mick and Leo both were surprised. They just dealt with a breach a couple weeks ago. Now another one? “Where?” Mick asked. “Same place?”
“We wish,” Silvio said. “The Hub this time.”
“The Hub?” Leo asked, surprised. “How bad is it?”
“We don’t know that yet,” Paul said. “But it’s real.”
“How did you find out?” Mick asked.
“One of our spies in Provensano’s outfit. He not only had their names, he had pictures of the meet.”
“Their names?” Leo asked. “More than one?”
Paul nodded. “Four. It’s four of those fuckers, boss.”
Leo looked at Mick, unable to believe it. But Mick was in disbelief too. He stood up and grabbed his suit coat from off the back of his chair.
“The package secured?” Mick asked.
“We got’em,” Silvio said. “They’re secured.”
“This shit is getting out of hand,” Leo said. “What the fuck is going on? One snitch is one thing. You get one in a lifetime. But four? That many one month later? That’s like . . . It’s like---”
“A problem,” Mick finished for Leo, and they all hurried out of his office.
The gates to the Sinatra estate opened, and the limousine drove the long trek toward the super-secluded mansion. There were so many guards on the property that Roz sat in the backseat amazed. Because they were everywhere. Not just at the gate, but all over the grounds. She didn’t think the President of the United States could be this protected. And when the limousine made its’ way to the house, and Roz saw the magnificence of it, she was floored. This trip to Philadelphia, to Mick’s turf, was nothing like she had imagined. She knew he was a rich man. A man who owned a hotel like the Carson had to be rich. But seeing his hotel-looking home stunned her. She thought Mick was the condo type. She expected him to be chilling in a gorgeous high rise. But this house was a family home. A family home with no family?
But looking at the fortified nature of this estate made Roz quickly realize that family was probably not the issue here. Security was. Mick’s security. Which begged the question even further for Roz. Why in the world would a businessman, a hotel magnate no less, need this much security?
Not that Roz was naïve. There were hints, when she Googled Mick, that he had had a rough past. He was even prosecuted once for racketeering, but had beat the rap. From everything she could gleam, he turned his life around after that trial and was straight ever since. But the security she was seeing didn’t bear that out. This was the security of a man who was either still knee deep in gangster shit, or was too deep in to ever get out. This was the reason, Roz believed, that Mick wanted her on his turf before their relationship went a step further. He wanted her to see that he was no choir boy. Since she had already concluded when she first met him that there was nothing angelic about him, she wasn’t exactly shocked. She was concerned. She still didn’t know the extent of his activities. But because it was Mick, because she saw that softer side of him, she wasn’t scared. She remained, in fact, very excited.
Deuce McCurry got out of the limousine, walked around, and opened the back passenger door for Roz.
When Roz got out, and saw an entire staff of maids and butlers and assistants standing at the opened front doors, her heart began to pound. This was Downton Abbey shit. She wasn’t used to this!
“Oh my Lord,” she said as Deuce closed the car door behind her. “Who are all these people?”
“The staff,” Deuce said. “You’re the guest of honor, and Mr. Sinatra ordered them to greet you.”
Deuce looked at her. He could feel her sudden nervousness. “He chose you for a reason,” he said.
Roz looked at him. “Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Deuce said. “He knows you can handle it.”
“I’m glad he thinks so,” Roz said.
Deuce still felt an affection for her. “Be you,” he said. “If you can manage that, then there’s no way you can lose.”
Roz smiled. “Thanks, Deuce.” She tucked her nerves safely away again, and made her way up the steps that led to the Sinatra household.
One of those standing, a beautiful woman, came out of the pack with her hand extended. “Welcome,” she said jovially.
“Thank you,” Roz said, shaking her hand.
“I’m Carolyn Brimmer. I’m Mr. Sinatra’s house manager. Please come in.”
Roz smiled at the assembled staff as Carolyn led her into the massive home.
Talk about beautiful. Roz was blown away by the beauty. She stood in the middle of a foyer that was as large as her entire Brooklyn apartment, where marbled floors and chandeliers and duel staircases met her as she entered. This was no home. This was a showplace. This was the place that magazines filmed when they needed to capture luxury for their dreamy-eyed subscribers.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Carolyn said as she escorted Roz up one of the staircases. Roz had no intention of staying at Mick’s home while she was in town. She had, in fact, reserved a hotel room for herself before she left New York. But she was not going to discuss that with Mick’s staff. That was an issue she would take up with him.
“I hope your trip proved satisfactory,” Carolyn said as they walked up the stairs.
“It was very nice, thank you,” Roz responded.
“It’s not a long trip from New York, but like all trips it can be taxing nonetheless.”
Roz didn’t find anything taxing about the trip, so she did not reply.
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“A few days. I’m not real sure.” She had a week off, but Mick might not want her there that long. She was playing it strictly one day at a time.
They arrived on the second floor landing, but kept going up, to the third floor. And Carolyn kept with the questions. “We’re happy to have you regardless of how long you stay.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve known Mr. Sinatra how long?”
Roz didn’t see where that was her business. “Is that a matter a house manager will need to know?” she asked Carolyn.
Carolyn was at first surprised by the question, but then she smiled it off. “We’re very protective of our boss,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Oh,” Roz said with a smile. “I can understand that.” And she could. But she still didn’t answer the question.
Carolyn was perturbed by her refusal to answer, but she let it go. If word got back to Mick that she had even asked the question, she knew there would be hell to pay. One thing he was clear about to her when he hired her three years ago: run his household, but stay out of his business.
“Here we are,” Carolyn said as she swept open the double doors to a bedroom so incredible, and so filled with Mick’s wonderful scent, that Roz looked at her. “You may rest here.”
“Is this Mr. Sinatra’s bedroom?”
“Why, yes. This is where he told me to place you. And before you take my head off, I agree with you. It is highly inappropriate. He has never, and I mean never had an overnight guest that he put up in his own bedroom. He has never even put them up in the main house. They always stayed in one of his numerous guest houses on the property. No matter how big they are, no matter what relationship he has with them, they always stay in one of the guest houses. But he told me to put you up in his bedroom. I’m doing what I was told to do.”
Carolyn expected Roz to be offended. And she was highly offended at first. But Carolyn’s own words changed her mind. Mick never made this request of any of h
is previous overnight guests, many of whom, if not all, were undoubtedly female. By Carolyn’s own account, this would be a first for Mick.
Roz felt some kind of happy about that reality. Because she, unlike Carolyn, understood what it meant. He wasn’t putting her up in his room simply because they were going to engage in sexual activity while she was in town. Even if she had gone straight to her hotel room and never stepped foot in Mick’s home, they would still engage in sexual activity. That went without saying. But he separated her from the rest. The fact that he wanted her to stay, not only in the main house, but in his own bedroom in the main house, was telling to Roz. This man was serious about their relationship. This man, if she were to be so bold as to think it, was serious about her.
“You can always object,” Carolyn suggested. “That way, I will be justified in putting you up in his myriad of guest rooms. Or even one of the guest houses, if you prefer. That’s what I would do. If I were you, I wouldn’t allow a man to treat me this way.”
Roz knew Carolyn’s type too. She was probably in love with Mick herself. She’d be thrilled to put Roz up in the guest house. Roz wasn’t going to stay on his property at all. She had her own hotel reservation. But again, that wasn’t Carolyn’s business. “No,” Roz said. “This will be fine.”
She could see that look in Carolyn’s eyes. But Carolyn smiled it off. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll let you rest. If you would like a tour of the grounds, please let me know and I will be happy to assist. Or would you care for something to eat or drink?”
“I’m good, thank you,” Roz said. “I don’t need anything right now.”
“Very well,” Carolyn said, and then left Roz in Mick’s bedroom.
A wonderful sensation washed over Roz when Carolyn left her alone in Mick’s room. She felt an intimacy she couldn’t explain. She wanted to explore everything, from his chest to his closet to his medicine cabinet, but she knew that would be out of line. Besides, for all she knew he could have cameras on her ass at this very moment. There would be plenty of time to explore, she felt. So she sat her ass down, in the sitting room that was as large as her living room, and got herself some rest.
She rested so well on Mick’s lounger that she was almost asleep when the door opened again, and Carolyn and one of the butlers entered with her luggage.
“Knock knock,” Carolyn said as she entered. “Where are you?”
Roz stretched and yawned. “In here,” she said between yawns. “I’m in here.”
Carolyn headed toward her. “Change in plans,” she said.
Roz looked at her.
“Mr. Sinatra’s assistant phoned. He is to meet you at Raphael’s where you and he has reservations for the evening.”
“I assume this Raphael’s is a restaurant?” Roz asked.
“Oh, yes. One of the best in town.”
Carolyn said it with a smile, as if she was certain Roz would be intimidated. Roz was not. “I would not have expected anything less from Mick,” she said with her own smile.
Carolyn’s smile left. “The reservation is for eight,” she said. “Your driver will be waiting.”
After Carolyn left, Roz exhaled, grabbed underwear, and headed for Mick’s bathroom.
They stood in the middle of the warehouse like four men in a lineup. To the men detaining them, they were a disgusting sight. Snitches. No lower name existed in their world. They would rather die than do what these men did.
“You got it all wrong, Rennie,” one of the men said to one of their guards, but the guard kicked him in the gut, causing him to double over. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled. “Boss will deal with you!”
The man was in pain now, and wanted to go down to his knees, but when he heard the warehouse garage door opened, and Mick Sinatra, along with Leo Barone, Paul Ricci, and Silvio Fontaine walked in, he stood straight and tall. Sinatra hated weakness. He wasn’t about to show it now.
It was a long walk from the entrance to where the traitors stood. They all stared at Mick as if he was either coming to their rescue, or coming to their kill. These men were in Mick’s inner circle. These were the people who were supposed to be willing to die for him. And they betrayed him. Every one of them. They snitched.
But Mick didn’t walk toward them like a man ready for revenge. He didn’t show the rage that was within him, nor the angry disappointment. Because he was assessing them. Who was the weak link, who was the next weak one, and so on. And who was the strength. Who still had enough mental fortitude within himself to tell the story straight, and his part in it.
Mick’s men, however, were teeming for action. Four men snitching on a man like Mick was the equivalent of a tsunami in the underworld. This didn’t happen. This didn’t happen to Mick Sinatra.
Mick knew it too. His men didn’t realize it, but Mick was less interested in the fact that it had happened, and more interested in what he had to do to ensure it never happened again. That required showing more than telling. Mick showed.
As soon as he was within close range of the men, he pulled out his gun and fired. Even his own men were caught off guard as he fired one bullet between the eyes of the first man, then the second man, and, in rapid succession, the third one. The last man standing, Pomp Valance, pissed in his pants.
“Tell the truth and you stand a chance,” Mick said to Pomp as he continued to approach. “Lie to me and you don’t.”
The man, Pomp Valance, could barely breathe. But he didn’t hesitate. He knew Mick. He knew Mick the Tick.
“Provensano’s men approached us.”
Mick’s men looked at each other. “Provensano?” Silvio asked, surprised.
“What did they want?” Mick asked Pomp.
Pomp was terrified, but he knew he had to tell it. “Intel. Everything we could find.”
“About what?”
“The Hub. They knew about the Hub. But they wanted the details. The day to day.”
“Papers, in other words?” Mick asked. “A paper trail.”
Pomp nodded his head. “But I didn’t give them shit, boss. You have to believe me. I told them to kiss my ass.”
Mick shot Pomp in the arm. Pomp grabbed it and screamed in pain.
“Tell me the truth and you stand a chance,” Mick said again. “Lie to me and you don’t.”
“Okay,” Pomp said. “Okay!” He continued to hold his arm. “I gave them what I had.”
“Which was?” Leo asked.
“I didn’t have nothing major to give them, boss. I didn’t know anything about the inner workings---”
“What did you give them?” Mick asked.
Pomp hesitated. But not for long. “The shipment.”
“Which shipment? The one next week?”
He shook his head. “The big one. The guns. The one arriving in three months. That’s what they want. They want the guns.”
But Leo was frowning. “How the fuck would he know about that?” he asked.
“We had to tell him. You understand, boss.” Pomp appealed to Mick. “We had no choice. They were threatening our families and shit. They were going to kill our little children, our babies, if we didn’t give them what they wanted!”
“Bullshit!” Leo shot back. “You were more afraid of what fucking Provensano would do to your little children than what Mick Sinatra would do to them? Bullshit!”
Mick continued to stare at Pomp. “How much?” he asked him.
“Just that one shipment. That’s all we told them.”
“How much did they pay you?” Mick asked.
Pomp swallowed hard.
“HOW MUCH?” Mick yelled so loud that Pomp jumped.
“A hundred thousand,” Pomp said quickly. “And two hundred thousand every time we brought him juice. He said he was going to make us rich.”
All of Mick’s men were stunned. That kind of money didn’t pass around unless it had value beyond the value. Something else was at work here.
“Who were the men that approached you?” Mick asked Pomp.
Mick shot Pomp straight through the head. Another fucker who wanted to be inside once he got caught outside. Mick was tired of this shit. And he watched Pomp fall the same way his snitching partners fell. Like the rats they were, as far as Mick was concerned.
His men looked at him. “What do we do now, boss?” Silvio asked. “Maybe we could have worked him as an inside man.”
Mick looked at Silvio with cold eyes. “You think Provensano’s stupid enough to give that prick his inside information?”
Silvio shook his head. “No.”
“Then stop making stupid-ass comments.”
Leo shook his head. “This shit getting serious,” he said. “We’re gonna have to stop that shipment.”
“Like hell we are,” Mick said. “That shipment remains a go. Provensano’s men will get there early. Maybe even a day early, a week early, to set up. But my men will get there now. Three months early. Already set up.”
“What do you mean, boss?” Leo asked. “Do you mean that every one of Provensano’s men will be taken out before the shipment even arrives?”
“Not taken out,” Mick said. “Watched. Shadowed. Provensano won’t know he’s been hit until after that shipment has come and gone. Then we’ll deal with the men. And then I’ll deal with Provensano.”
Mick’s men relaxed. Because once again, Mick was around the world before they could get around the corner. He had them beat.
Roz walked out of Mick’s home in a beautifully tailored gray and gold form-fitting dress with her matching clutch and heels. Deuce was waiting at the limousine and opened the door for her. He smiled when he saw her. He knew she would pull it off. “You look elegant, Miss Graham,” he said as she approached.