“Aren‘t you forgetting their connections?”
“Huh?”
“In Russia.”
“Russia ain‘t America. Fuck his Russki paymasters.”
“They have deep pockets and an army waiting to ship overseas. We mustn‘t underestimate them just because they don‘t speak our language.”
“A bunch of chimpanzees in suits. I‘m not underestimating them: just discounting them instead. They are thugs and no more. If we want, we can hire our own ape army, but the better approach is to destroy them slowly while generating cash. That‘s more than they are be able to do. Frank has cut off narcotics supply lines already. Every day they lose money, the weaker they become. In less than a month they‘ll have nothing. Nada. And then we move on Nikolay Markov.”
MARY LOU COULD be stubborn, but Bobby felt there was something more at work here. Yes, she was digging in her heels, but her argument was based on Frank‘s minor success and ignored what had gone on before. As though it had never happened. As if she couldn‘t remember that it had occurred. Bobby shook his head. His desire to remain loyal to Mary Lou pulled him in one direction and his mind tugged him in another.
He could not deal with the thought he needed to countermand her plan - again. Perhaps he wasn‘t strong enough, grown weak after years of easy street. Also, this was the first instance in over a year that he could remember when Mary Lou had passion, fire in her belly. That had to count for something. She was so sure of herself - in a way he hadn‘t seen for a very long time. Like these dark times were bringing out the best in her.
The last thing he should do is rain on her parade. Now was the moment for the whole family to come together as one, including him. For richer or poorer, better or worse. His job was to stick by Mary Lou and support her. This was her show and, despite his misgivings, she gave the orders and her position was clear.
32
CRIMINAL ACTIVITY IS cyclical like so many businesses which is why Frank worked his girls hard during the weekend and came home to visit Mama on Tuesday. Sammy had returned to Boston but his mind was not focused on her ass despite what she might hope. Unlike Alice, his desire for her was entirely physical and he was too tired to fool around.
He rested in the conservatory after a hearty Irma-fueled breakfast and waited for his Mama to appear. Bobby had left the house at the crack of dawn and the place was silent, apart from Irma‘s hustle and bustle, which Frank plain ignored. When Mary Lou appeared, she still looked tired and Frank gave her the time to revive before talking shop.
“How‘s it been back here?”
“Difficult. The Markovs continue to hit us hard: attacking our labs and they once tried to take our trucks coming out of Bakersfield.”
“But we stopped them?”
“Yes, for the past two weeks, armed guards rode in the cabins so the Markov goons were met with a hail of bullets. Didn‘t come back the following day - the ones who survived.”
“There‘s nothing like a steel toecap in your face to focus your mind.”
“Amen to that.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
They looked quizzically at each other, neither understanding the other‘s response. Frank shook himself out of the conundrum first.
“I‘ve applied the same strategy in SF and set up two whorehouses along the way using fresh girls. If we work to the side of their operation, we can eat away at their territory and fight them at the same time.”
“That’s what I‘ve been telling Bobby and Alice but they won‘t listen.”
“I hear you loud and clear, Mama. The business is safe with me.”
“I know, dear and I won‘t forget what you‘ve done. Never you mind.”
Frank glowed inside. So much of his life had been spent being bailed out or disappointing his mom, he‘d forgotten how warm positive words could feel.
“And now we must step up our campaign and you‘ve shown me you are the one I can rely on.”
“What do you want me to do, Mama?”
“It is time to chew through the heart of their operations: prostitution. You have started well but we need to hit their lap dancing venues and cathouses. If we succeed, all that‘ll be left of any substance will be narcotics and you've already started to nix those supply lines.”
“Hit them hard.”
“Without restraint. Either destroy the buildings or take out the resources.”
“You mean kill the goons running the joints.”
“The goons. The girls. If we leave the johns alone then the cops won‘t touch us: we‘ll be doing their job for them.”
FRANK RETURNED TO the Bay City and followed Mama‘s orders. Isaak continued to lay waste to the Markov whores. While Naldo had used a knife, Isaak waded in with automatic weapons and a total disregard for human life, but he always attacked the staff rooms or hit the place after hours. Mama had been clear about that and it made perfect sense.
The San Francisco Police Department didn‘t know what to do with itself. Local precincts were reporting mass murder one day followed by a total lack of low-level crime the next. The only people who were disappointed were the men hoping for an easy fuck on the way home from work or after sinking a beer or two. They were forced to put more effort into their illicit carnal desires.
Isaak continued his reign of terror until the Tenderloin was free of brothels. Even the independent operators got the message and decided to go on unexpected vacations. What‘s the point of running a joint, if at the end of the night you're face down in a pool of your own blood and excrement?
THE MARKOV RESPONSE was predictable - much as Bobby and Alice had said. Nikolay put his best fellas on to track down Frank and Isaak. In the absence of any success, all the people found in a Lagotti venue were shot. The two men went into hiding outside the Tenderloin but soon Frank realized the jig was up.
Not enough guns to finish Markov and insufficient men to maintain control of the new territory they’d won. Their early gains had turned into a series of losses and the splatter of human remains lay all over the streets. Isaak waited until after dusk, stole a car and the pair got the fuck out of Dodge.
OVER THE WEEKEND, Mary Lou flew down to Miami for a break. Bobby chose to stay at home because he didn‘t want a vacation while chaos loomed all around. He sent Naldo with her to watch her back.
On Saturday morning, word reached Bobby that two meth labs in the depths of LA had gone up in smoke overnight. That afternoon, the Markovs attacked their main heroin processing lab. Fifteen pounds of uncut opium and ten pounds of heroin had been stolen and everyone in the building had been whacked.
Bobby tried to contact Mary Lou, but she wasn‘t in her room to answer the phone. Nor was Naldo. Under ordinary circumstances, Bobby wouldn‘t have been concerned, but this hit was the kind of incident he had feared would happen and there was no way to protect Mary Lou. In the early evening, he got through to Naldo.
“There‘s been action. Check out of the hotel and find somewhere quiet to stay tonight. Tell her to come home tomorrow. Let her know supply lines have been hit and that I am insisting. She should understand what that means.”
While the tentacles of the Feds had yet to reach their corner of Palm Springs, Bobby used caution when on a public line. He and Mary Lou had agreed to insist on something only if it was a matter of life or death. No questions asked. And for Bobby, this was one of those times.
He briefed the guards in the house to expect trouble and he told Alice what had happened.
“Do you think we‘ll get through this?”
“For sure. Your mom and I have dealt with worse in our time. If we remain sensible and don‘t do anything stupid then we‘ll nail Nikolay Markov.”
“Has anyone explained that plan to Frank?”
Beat.
“I‘m having a Scotch. You want something?”
“Too early for me.”
Bobby poured two fingers into a tumbler and added four cubes of ice. Then he raised his glass like he was giving
a toast.
“Here‘s looking at you, kid.”
33
BOBBY AND MARY Lou sat on the summerhouse couch with Alice and Frank in separate armchairs. The events of the past week had permeated through all of them. The stress caused by being at war had taken its toll. Everyone looked fraught even Mary Lou, fresh from her weekend in the sun.
“Let‘s get started. What‘s the latest?”
“Same as the whole of the month: we‘ve been hit hard in Los Angeles and surrounding areas. Narcotics, prostitution. There has been some disruption to our gambling operations too. Revenue is down and so are the number of live bodies on the payroll.”
“In return, we've disrupted or decimated Markov whorehouses in San Francisco. We‘ve hit their heroin supply and destroyed their pussy product.”
“Nicely put, Frank.”
“Get over yourself, sis‘. We are hurting them. Causing them grief.”
“In summary then, they‘re bleeding us dry on the west coast but there's been zero impact on Las Vegas, Chicago, Boston or Atlantic City.”
“‘Yet‘ is the key word here. The longer this goes on, the greater the chance they will expand their horizons. Once Nikolay escalates his actions, it‘ll be a matter of days before the casinos fall. He can call on an enormous number of men and we won‘t be able to defend ourselves.”
“The good thing about the Lucky Lady is that it‘s in the middle of the city and local police won‘t be pleased with anyone who disrupts the tourist trade.”
“Same for AC.”
“The Queen of Sheba is vulnerable: it‘s a boat on a river.”
“Can we find reinforcements to last this month?”
“I‘d love to say yes, but I have no idea where to get the right guys. Our best are six feet under and the rest heard what happens when you work for us.”
Bobby‘s hand made a fast swooping gesture across his throat to emphasize his statement. Mary Lou stared, an impassive rock. Frank and Alice nodded or shook their heads depending on the point being expressed. They both sat on the edge of their seats - their first experience of a war cabinet.
“And what are we to do?”
MARY LOU SPOKE for the first time since opening the meeting.
“We must assassinate the Russian. With him gone, all our problems dissolve like sugar in a hot cup of coffee.”
“That is not an option: we‘ve been through this before.”
“No, we need to cut off the head of the snake. His men will fall in line when he‘s lying bleeding in the dirt.”
“There are no opportunities for us, Mary Lou. We‘ve ruled out a sniper, a bomb and a good old-fashioned drive-by shooting. No-one can get close enough to Nikolay to slit his throat or plant a slug in his heart.”
“We need to reach an accommodation, Mama, to take us to a new normal.”
Frank snorted, his derision visible on his expression.
“Death is the end of all things. We just carry on what we‘re doing - only more so. We have casino money rolling in to support us but he does not. Another week, maybe a month. The longer we can last, the sooner his power will be lost. He might enjoy contacts back in Russia, but he is living in the US of A. And that is where he will die.”
“Brave words little brother, but saying it doesn‘t make it so. Yes, we have the money to keep going but not the men. That‘s what we repeatedly say and no-one seems to disagree. Our best are dead and what remains: they are scared and they should be. I know I‘m scared. Everyone in this room should be - we are living in fucking dangerous times.”
“DARLING, IS YOUR primary objection our lack of fellas?”
“It‘s up there, Mama. I can‘t see how to succeed in a fight when the ring is empty.”
“Bobby, that‘s your issue too?”
“To carry on we need solid guys we can rely on when we turn the heat up.”
“So why don‘t I get us some gold plate muchachos?“
“How‘re you going to do that?”
“Do you agree if I succeed that we continue with my plan?”
“I guess so. I mean, with enough guns we could pull him apart, I suppose.”
Bobby shrugged. He wasn‘t happy because there was more to killing Nikolay than having a posse of lethal weapons. But it would help. His biggest problem right now was that he couldn‘t think of a good reason to disagree. If they hit Nikolay all guns blazing, he‘d be dead before morning. Fog City would be theirs.
“So that‘s settled then. I‘ll go first thing tomorrow and by the end of the week, Nikolay Markov will lie in a body bag.
MARY LOU‘S TRIP to New York passed smoothly enough, although her impatience to arrive nearly got the better of her. On the plane, she thought back to the day she took the same flight and assassinated Charlie Pentangelo, capo to the Baninno Family. Their empire had crumbled now and there were few left alive to remember Charlie or recall what he looked like - let alone ponder on what he achieved.
She had spent her time in Manhattan in a perpetual state of fear, afraid of every guy in a three-piece suit who glanced in her general direction. Even the ticket purchase at Palm Springs had felt like agony. Mary Lou recalled fleeing the scene of her crime and being chased across town by Charlie‘s goons. Such relief at finding a yellow vehicle. That moment when she got in the taxi and they drove to LaGuardia.
And here she stood in the same airport waiting in line to go into the city. This time there was no plan to hide a piece by her crotch and no need to carry any heat. Mary Lou was here to talk - and nothing else.
Just as the Bannino clan‘s power had waned, so too with most of the five Families that controlled New York since the days of the Big Bankroll. Organized crime in the east coast had followed a similar path to the mobs out west. As the Feds were given a mandate to attack organized crime, guys ratted out their compadres and families lost their grip on the rackets under their control.
The operations didn‘t die on the vine. Instead other gangs took them over with an ancestry that couldn‘t be traced to anywhere even close to Sicily: the Latinos, Chinese, Russians, Ukrainians and a whole host of other nationalities too. A great big racial melting pot of extortion, gun running, drug supply, labor racketeering - and the list went on.
Despite all these changes to the criminal fabric of the Five Boroughs, one group had survived and still dipped their beak into several troughs: the Gagliardi family, with Fiorino at its helm. The man had survived assassination attempts and the encroachment on his territory of just about every gang the country had to offer. He continued to rule his piece of Manhattan and New Jersey with an iron fist.
Decades ago, the seat of his power would have been a swanky five-star hotel overlooking Central Park. That was then and this was now. Mary Lou and Fiorino sat at the back of a restaurant on Mulberry. He had agreed to see her out of respect for Pasquale, but her reputation did her no harm, although the most famous of her exploits deserving the great man‘s attention was twenty years old.
THEY ATE LINGUINI with clams and drank a glass of red wine each. By the time Fiorino mopped up his sauce with a piece of bread, Mary Lou had tired of small talk and wanted to get down to the reason for her visit.
“I‘m glad to hear business is good for you.”
“It‘s not like how it was, nothing is nowadays, but we survive.”
“And how is recruitment?”
“That is never easy. The youngsters want fast money and no graft. Something for zip. This is the problem in the world we live in. No-one is prepared to wait for success. Everything must happen now.”
“We face similar difficulties, but on a much smaller scale.”
“Don‘t do yourself down. I understand you maintain controlling interests in at least two casinos. That‘s no small boast for a woman to make.”
“Thank you. Sometimes it‘s who you know that counts.”
“Influence is a marvelous thing. How we get things done - with a little help from our friends.”
“Pasquale recommended I spea
k with you on a delicate matter where friends on the west coast are proving hard to find.”
“I‘m listening. As lovely as it is to break bread with you, I assumed Pasquale was not introducing me to a tourist.”
“No, I‘ve been here before.”
Mary Lou‘s eyes glanced toward the front of the restaurant and onwards where she sat, all those years ago, to stalk Pentangelo before whacking him. Fiorino‘s eyelids closed and Mary Lou noticed him clench his jaw. While he admired her guts, perhaps he hadn‘t approved of her taking out a capo back when time had roman numerals.
“I am very aware of that.”
“THE BOTTOM LINE is that we are experiencing some local difficulty in California and need access to some solid fellas for a week or two. Maybe three.”
“And how many are we discussing here?”
“Ten would be good, twenty better and thirty would be best. The more we have, the sooner we can get matters settled and your people returned to you.”
“How very gracious. What difficulties are you facing?”
Mary Lou outlined the situation in San Francisco and how it was now spilling over into LA. She described their efforts to date and how they were falling short due to the lack of competent bodies.
“I understand your problem, but thirty men is a small army and I don't want to see them killed or arrested. What guarantees can you offer me?”
“Fiorino, if this was a walk in the park, I wouldn‘t fly across the country to meet with you. We both know that some of those guys will not survive. What I want to do is to reach an arrangement with you so that your loss is mitigated and I can show my appreciation for your support.”
“This isn‘t about the money. It‘s about the people. We already agreed that good youngsters are hard to find and you are asking me to hand over thirty and expect to lose some in less than a week. In a war not of my making and in which I have no vested interest for the success of your venture.”
The Lagotti Family Series Page 84