“That was hot.”
“They deserved it.”
“I could get used to the criminal life.”
“Stick to grand theft auto and you‘ll be fine.”
“You‘d better get me home fast before this buzz goes away. I don‘t want to use a drop of this rush on anyone but you.”
“Why wait? There‘s an airport motel coming up just about... now.”
AN HOUR LATER they left the motel and headed back to Mama‘s to pack. In the coolish light of the early evening, Alice reckoned not being in Palm Springs would be a good idea. Martin would be unlikely to want to tell the cops he got stiffed by a couple of out-of-town broads, but he‘d have to report his car stolen to have any hope of getting it back. Alice had wiped her prints off every surface just to be sure. The vehicle retailed at north of quarter of a million and Sam pointed out it might have a tracker so he'd need no police help. She was probably right.
“I stole the car so you are definitely buying dinner when we get home.”
“Worth every penny.”
Alice hugged Bobby and kissed her Mama goodbye while Sam stood patiently by. Handshakes and adios for her, then into the soft top and away. On the way back, Sam mused about their trip.
“I like your folks. They come across as warm and welcoming.”
“Bobby is a good man. Says little, but he watches and learns.”
”He‘s always been chatty with me.”
“The man can be charming too.”
“Switches it on for the ladies, does he?”
“He‘s a man with a dark past from what I see, but neither Mama nor Bobby have ever told me what he got up to before they hooked up.”
“Sordid and dirty - all free love and squirming naked bodies?”
“Bobby? I don‘t think so. More likely to be a tragic death and unconsummated passion.”
“Shame. I was hoping for a tale of bondage and a secret dungeon where he tortured leather-clad souls within an inch of their sexual deaths.”
“You lost me at bondage... I need to decide where you‘ll take me for my prize.”
“Almost forgot about that. When will we get in?”
Alice glanced at the clock on the dashboard and added numbers up in her head.
“Nine at the latest.”
“Do you mind if we stay in tonight? We‘ll have more time to think of somewhere real special for your prize. Besides... I‘ve got some other ideas about how we could spend the evening instead of sat in a restaurant.”
Alice needed no further explanation as Sam reached over and placed a left hand on her crotch.
“Take away pizza will do just fine.”
She parted her legs slightly and pressed down on the gas pedal.
18
MARY LOU AND Bobby decided they needed to find more opportunities to sidestep the heroin racket. And as much as they wanted to stay local, they knew there was money to be made outside LA. They were not turning their backs on the City of Angels so much as spreading their wings.
She‘d had her eye in San Francisco for some time. The place had never been under mob control and as a small operation, Mary Lou thought they‘d be able to make their mark quickly given the muscle they‘d bring.
With November fast approaching, Bobby wanted to get lottery card production up-and-running although Alice preferred to keep control of that end of things. Logistics resolved that argument in Alice‘s favor: it was cheaper and quicker to truck over the fake cards than build a new plant.
A fresh batch of sales representatives were hired and cash poured in, just as it had in LA. The state‘s finances might be in disarray but Mary Lou and Bobby were almost literally printing money in Bakersfield. The sudden influx of green made Mary Lou want more out of San Francisco.
“What else would be easy to set up?”
“Girls... and boys for that matter.”
“It‘s not a gay city - just has a gay area.”
“Anyway. The answer to your question is sex. Let‘s ship in some girls from our LA clubs to begin with until we can recruit local bait. If we use the gentle art of firm persuasion, we could run three lap dancing bars before the weekend.”
Bobby and his enforcement crew spent two days driving round town to locate suitable venues. He was searching for the rare combination of relative success and weak management. If you possess a knowing eye and are prepared to sit in enough dive bars then you can find almost anything. His gang were under strict instructions to drop a few notes on the girls but not lose sight of the prize: to check out security arrangements and how much muscle was hiding behind closed doors. He told them he‘d let them have a weekend pass with any of the floozies they wanted once the Lagottis were running the joints.
Three locations were selected and his crew split up and attacked each at the same time. Existing management was offered a cash payment to leave that night. Given the size of the offer, two accepted in an instant and walked out immediately with a brief case crammed with money. The third venue contained a more reluctant host.
His perspective was that he‘d built the Booty Bar from nothing and a bunch of out-of-towners weren‘t going to get him to shift just because they asked.
“I understand you have not planned to exit this establishment but I can assure you, it would be left in safe hands.”
“You don‘t appear to be listening too well. The place is not up for sale.”
“We have offered you money, which you have rejected. I heard you say that clearly. So I won‘t embarrass you by making the offer twice.”
“Finally, you get the picture.”
Bobby laughed. This small-time operator stood before him thought he‘d walk away with his tail between his legs.
“The best thing I can suggest you do now is to give me the Booty Bar as a gift - man to man. And because I am a businessman at heart, I will find other ways than cash to show my appreciation.”
It was Anton Markov‘s turn to laugh.
“You been smoking the whacky baccy before you came in here or the sight of all that pussy outside has made you crazy. Watch my lips: I will not give you the joint and I will not sell it to you.”
“That‘s a shame. Is that your final word on the matter?”
“You bet your last fucking dollar it is.”
Bobby smiled and put his hands in his pants pockets as he turned to face Naldo.
“The guy thinks I‘m a comedian. But if he won‘t sell and won‘t give the place a way, what can we do?”
Naldo lunged forward at Markov and thrust a knife straight into his heart. A violent deep incision and Markov hit the floor. One minute he‘s talking business, the next blood is pouring out of his mouth and onto the carpet.
“We can kill you, motherfucker. That‘s what we can do.”
Naldo started cleaning up almost the minute he‘d rested Markov‘s head on the ground. Bobby watched him for five seconds and then looked at the other two fellas he‘d brought with.
“Make yourselves useful, eh?”
BOBBY LIKED THE layout of the Booty Bar with private dancing rooms close to the stage and the bar at the rear of the auditorium. Whoever they installed here to run the joint would have a great line of sight over the whole proceedings. And an office behind the bar so you‘d never be too far from the action.
When the last john left the building at six in the morning, Bobby locked the doors and explained to the hapless workers they had two options. Stay and work for him or fuck off with no hard feelings and today‘s wages. Everyone chose to stick around, which was no surprise as two them had seen Markov being dragged out the back and dumped in the trunk of Naldo‘s car. Word had got out about their erstwhile employer before Bobby had a chance to talk to them.
He gave everyone a bonus to keep them sweet and then sent everybody home so his crew could comb through the place to make sure there were no complications. They looked out for any unopened safes and ensured there weren‘t any others hiding in the shadows, too scared to confront the new owners.
>
No Markov minions but two ledgers and one safe. Bobby had low expectations about its contents as the box was small and found at the bottom of a cupboard. They dumped it all in his car and he drove off to apply his skills to crack it open. Naldo made yet another trip into the desert to offload Anton Markov, onetime owner of the Booty Bar.
MARY LOU MIGHT have harbored the belief that San Francisco was a chilled out town but no-one had explained this to its more recent arrivals. When the Italian mob’s control over organized crime wavered in the 1990s, other groups leapt on the opportunity to take over. Many of these people came over from the newly independent states of the former Soviet Union - and from Russia itself.
Their background in abject hardship under the yoke of Communist oppression set them up to be ruthless dictators in charge of their own gangs. This made the Markovs no different from hundreds of families who entered the country illegally to seek their fortunes, having created seed capital from the black market back home.
If Mary Lou had known the specific history of the Markov clan, she would have advised Bobby to tread carefully around Anton instead of whacking him during their first argument. As night follows day, the Markovs moved with tremendous speed after Anton‘s death.
Two nights later, smoke was seen coming out from under one of the private rooms of the Booty Bar. Within a quarter of an hour, flames licked the stage and only five minutes after that, the second floor collapsed on top of the auditorium. Everyone escaped unharmed but the unflinching revenge sent a clear message to Bobby. They sure had picked on the wrong person to chisel out of a bar.
Mary Lou took the news badly while Bobby thought having control of two out of the three venues was good work. She beleived the Markovs had taken a diabolical liberty by destroying her property. The fact it had been theirs forty-eight hours before was irrelevant to her. Everyone needed to see you don‘t mess with the Lagotti family - otherwise any upstart with a shotgun could come calling. Her reaction was simple.
“Find out who did this to me and kill them.”
“We took the fight to them by shooting one of theirs.”
“And we will finish this by putting more of them in the morgue.”
“I‘m not sure we should escalate this. Both sides could put each other‘s actions down as an unfortunate incident but a fair trade. If we retaliate now then they‘ll come back and hit us harder. It‘s inevitable because that is exactly how we would respond.”
“I don‘t give a shit how many bodies pile up, we must be seen to be stronger than them. Else we‘ll lose leverage everywhere.”
“Sure thing babe, but we are weak over in San Francisco. Our power base is in LA not along the coast. Do you think we should divert resources away from making good money for us just to show a bunch of Russkies we mean business?”
“Damn straight. We can‘t let them come over here and walk all over us. If they do that, within three years they‘ll have everything and you and I will be six feet under.”
Bobby sat pondering Mary Lou‘s words and mulled over his own concerns. She had more energy than he had. And his crew were most likely to wind up dead. He hated organizing funerals and dealing with crying, resentful widows. But taking it all into account, Mary Lou was right. Yesterday it was the Booty Bar and tomorrow it would be gaming, the rest of the girls and then the narcotics operations. They needed to destroy the parasite before it throttled its host.
THE MARKOV FAMILY occupied the Tenderloin district on McAllister and Larkin. Generations of impoverished inhabitants had lived and died on the same streets as these stocky Russian gangsters, who landed on the west coast and sustained themselves through a highly-effective protection racket which blossomed into prostitution in all its guises.
Their girls were streetwalkers in the main run by a bunch of punks and a network of pimps. The Booty Bar had been a rare attempt at refinement because the senior family members understood the importance of rising out of the criminal primordial ooze. They needed ways to make more money and controlling a legal venue gave them the opportunity to hire out skanks at a much higher rate. While a cathouse would have boosted revenues, the Booty Bar delivered greater respectability too. Besides you could legally comp a cop a short private dance but lending them a hooker for half an hour was a whole different ball game.
Hence the vicious response. Anton may have been stubborn, but he was in charge of the only shred of legal activity operated by the Markovs. They could not let the affront to their reputation go unchallenged.
BOBBY AND HIS crew - Naldo and three trusted associates - began by cutting girls on the street. This was simple and sent out a clear statement: if you hit our revenues by burning down our building then we will scar your product. Only the sickest of the sick wants to fuck disfigured hookers.
The Markovs replied by attacking the other two bars under Lagotti control: the Red Stocking and the Dahlia. On this occasion, no matches were applied to the situation. Instead goons were despatched to threaten the staff - girls, bar tenders, the lot. The following day, everyone was too scared to enter the premises. Mary Lou sent guys and whores in from LA but they received the same clear message.
On the night of Christmas Eve, Mary Lou ordered her fellas to slash throats and less than a week later, the body count had reached double digits on both sides.
“This madness has to stop. This war of attrition is hurting all of us with no sign of letting up. We‘ve lost good people and for what? A stake in the ground and a chance to sell the sight of an ass a few miles further north.”
“Organize a conference. We can afford to allow ourselves a graceful defeat on the prostitution because the lottery cards are going gangbusters.”
19
MARY LOU REFUSED to come to the meet and insisted Bobby go instead. He knew this was a mistake but her mind was made up. A seedy hotel conference space with a view of a car lot - if you bothered to look outside. Naldo frisked the Markov attendees and one of their goons checked they weren‘t packing pieces. Everyone was clean.
The room had space for six chairs and a rectangular table which was exactly what was required. Bobby sat with Naldo to his right and Ernie Santo, a third generation American who‘d worked alongside Naldo for years. Solid, reliable but occasionally prone to chatter. On the other side of the oak veneer was Nikolay Markov and two guys who were estranged from their clothes. It looked as though this was the first time either had worn a jacket. However, Bobby understood these individuals will have been the ones who torched the Booty Bar and murdered his people. They might seem like redneck hicks but he knew better than to underestimate them.
“You have encroached on our territory and performed horrific acts on our property.”
“Let‘s be honest with each other Nikolay, both sides have deployed knives and guns causing pain and misery. Nobody is innocent here.”
Bobby paused and stared at the three sitting opposite. There was no way Markov could take the moral high ground.
“The point is, we‘re sat here today to put an end to the bloodshed so we can all go back to work.”
“Agreed. But we must take into account you killed my nephew Anton.”
“There is no need to bring out a roster for the dead but I acknowledge the death of your family member and I am sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. He was a stubborn cocksucker, but he was my sister‘s stubborn cocksucker. I hope you understand.”
“I do. This is my proposal: we cease our efforts this year to stretch our wings in San Francisco‘s prostitution market. You stop attacking my people and we‘ll not muscle into any lap dancing clubs or hooker networks, whether owned by you or not.”
“I see.”
“By now, you should have done your homework and found out who we are and the reach we have in California and Nevada. We do not intend to stand still despite our... local difficulties here. You have shown yourselves to be formidable fighters and we respect that.”
“You are right to give up on pussy in this town. This time nex
t year, I will be the only man selling ass on these streets and you won't get in my way. But you have forgotten about Anton.”
“Direct compensation will be difficult because I‘ve already just given up rights to prostitution and also because Anton had a simple choice and he picked foolishly. No disrespect to you or your sister.”
“The boy was not the sharpest tool in the box. What are you suggesting?”
“A business relationship with us. In order to keep the girls on the streets or pumping those poles while they lap dance, I imagine you ply them with narcotics. We would like to supply them to you. This will be at a lower price than you pay now and of a higher quality, not that it matters to you. The compensation is the amount of green you save. Tell your sister whatever you want but that‘s the most Anton‘s life is worth to us.”
The corners of Nikolay‘s mouth raised upward in the best imitation of a smile he could muster.
“Drugged up and fucked up - that‘s how we like them.”
“Are we agreed?”
“Sure, why not? If it doesn‘t work out, I will go to a different supplier and then find and kill you for betraying our agreement.”
Nikolay stared through Bobby who grit his teeth and inhaled deeply. Now was not the time to rise to this Russian‘s bait. They both knew the Lagottis were getting a beating. Only Nikolay wouldn‘t let Bobby off the hook.
“Oh, and one last thing. We will relinquish immediate control of the Dahlia to you but keep the Red Stocking. Naturally you will supply all the girls to the club for a fee and a month ago you didn‘t have the Dahlia in your operation so that is a gift from us to you.”
“Very well. At least I‘ll know where to find you. Our fee is sixty cents on the dollar - of the profit.”
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