“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 speak 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.”
“If you help me now, I could offer you a piece of a casino, for example. Your kind indulgence in this matter doesn‘t need to be paid back with a case of bills. If you are willing, I am flexible in how I show my appreciation.”
“I have no doubt, but I still don‘t like the thought of losing good men and I wouldn‘t insult you by sending you greenhorns. Return to California and let me think on this some more.”
“I could stay in the city and we could speak further, if you liked.”
“I‘d like you to return to Palm Springs and leave me to consider my position.”
Mary Lou nodded, stood up and kissed his proffered hand. Old school mafia. Then she left the restaurant and grabbed a cab to LaGuardia and home.
34
TWO DAYS AFTER Mary Lou got back, there was a knock on the door and Irma led the gentleman into the living room. Then she popped into the summerhouse to let Bobby and Mary Lou know they had a visitor.
“Would you like a coffee?”
“No, thank you. I‘m not expecting to be here long enough to drink it.”
“Then let‘s not detain you any longer than you need.”
Bobby saw Mary Lou bristling and hoped she would remember who had sent Vito to their door.
“Mr. Gagliardi sends his regards and asked me to speak with you directly. He didn‘t want me to leave a message or note. He believes people he respects should hear news firsthand.”
“Do thank him for his courteous behavior.”
“Actually, I have changed my mind: a coffee would be most welcome.”
Bobby and Mary Lou glanced at each other and summoned Irma to issue instructions. A quick conversation meant bad news, but if the gu
y was settling in for a drink, perhaps things were looking up. Vito said nothing until Irma reappeared with his mug.
“Mr. Gagliardi thanks you for making the journey to see him in person. This impressed him greatly as a mark of respect on your part, dear lady.”
Mary Lou smiled and waited. Bobby sat back in his seat, letting the experience wash over him until he knew whether to be happy or sad.
“He also was impressed with your honest assessment of your situation and the way you conveyed that to him. Without gilding the lily, so to speak.”
More smiling. More waiting. If you removed the yada-yada, you were left with nada so far. Why the build up? Can‘t he get to the punchline?
“You requested the loan of up to thirty men and Mr. Gagliardi is forced to decline.”
Mary Lou stopped listening. Nothing Vito was going to say would improve her situation, so there was no point. Bobby was concerned to understand why because Mary Lou seemed optimistic when she came back.
“There are two issues he wishes to draw to your attention. First, your predicament is a problem of your own making. As he understands the situation, your bellicose approach infuriated the other party and after you reached a very reasonable settlement, you chiseled away at the territory.”
Bobby felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach. Frank‘s exploits had been visible from New York and they were paying for the consequences of his actions.
“We could put aside the cause of your problems under the right circumstances. But second, the interests of the Gagliardi and Lagotti families are not aligned. Certain business activities have been hindered by your ongoing disagreement with Markov and we need this interference in our revenue generation to end.”
Vito paused to consume some coffee. It felt as though he hadn‘t taken a breath since he told them how Gagliardi wasn‘t going to help. The feeling in Bobby‘s stomach got worse and his gastric wall tightened.
MARY LOU STARED out of the window as she saw no reason to hide her disinterest in what this olive-skinned excuse for a man had to say.
“Mrs. Lagotti: you have been given one week to resolve your local difficulties with Nikolay Markov. If you do not do so, we can assure you that your husband will have need of either an undertaker or a search party. Either way, you will be dead.”
Beat.
“My apologies for being blunt but I want to be certain you understand your situation. Mr. Gagliardi is more than happy to forge a relationship with you should you vanquish your foe. What concerns him most is that no business is being conducted while you two slug it out. There is no personal animosity in anything I have said and I hope you appreciate that.”
Vito stood up: clearly this was not a debate. He‘d conveyed what Gagliardi had instructed and now it was time to leave.
“Can we call you a taxi?”
“Most kind.”
Bobby popped his head round the kitchen door to speak with Irma and by the time he got back, Vito was standing on his own. The clang of the patio door told him Mary Lou had given up on social niceties with this prick. He had just threatened her life, after all, but he represented one of the most powerful gang bosses in America.
“Forgive my wife. She doesn‘t like hearing bad news, but obviously we recognize Mr. Gagliardi‘s respect to send you all this distance for such a short but clear message.”
“It‘s what I do. Pass on decisions whichever way the coin lands.”
“I understand. I used to be in the outfit.”
“Fine. When she calms down, let her know the clock is ticking. We need this resolved in seven days or less, one way or another. Between you and me, I think Gagliardi would rather work with you but the Russian has the network and we have the product. It‘s a marriage of convenience and no more, but it needs peace to thrive. Capiche?”
“Got it.”
BOBBY WALKED THROUGH the conservatory and out onto the patio to find Mary Lou in the summerhouse. He sat down and explained all that Vito had said and threatened.
“The mob will put a hit out on you in a week if we don‘t get matters sorted with Nikolay Markov.“
Her jaw sunk to the floor and the blood drained from her cheeks.
“Is there no leeway?”
“None. We must end this nonsense now.”
Mary Lou rummaged around for a cigarette but her hands were shaking and she couldn‘t get her lighter to work. Bobby bent over and lit one for her.
“A hit on me.”
He nodded as she inhaled on her smoke, letting a plume of exhalation form a cloud in front of her face.
“Good news is that if we succeed against Markov, we have a guaranteed deal with Gagliardi.”
“For what?”
“Vito was willfully vague, but they way he talked made it sound like narcotics. Don‘t know for sure.”
“Perhaps they have a new pipeline into the east or from Colombia.”
“... A hit.”
Mary Lou‘s attention drifted in and out of focus until Bobby was no longer certain she was taking in anything he was saying.
THE DEATH OF Charlie Pentangelo was a pivotal moment after Mary Lou‘s twins were kidnapped and then rescued. But the speed with which his body was discovered and she was chased across the city startled her. It had always been a dangerous mission but her single-minded desire to kill the man, who‘d caused her so much pain, had kept her focused on the act of assassination. The minute his corpse hit the ground, Mary Lou woke from her death-trance and smelled the coffee.
The thought of the mob giving her seven days before a hit sent her into a flat-spin panic. There was only one intelligent action for her to take: flee. She went into the conservatory and Bobby wasn‘t there. Into the living room and she heard a clattering in the kitchen. Without making a sound, Mary Lou grabbed her bag, hopped into her car and sped away, acknowledging her protective detail at the entrance to the property before bursting onto the road - and out of town.
Ten minutes later, Bobby came downstairs and tried to find Mary Lou. Irma hadn‘t seen her for a while either. A quick conversation with the fellas outside revealed what had happened. Alice returned from the Country Club with Naldo in tow after an hour and Bobby filled her in on the day‘s events.
“We need to find Mama.”
“She‘s in the wind for now.”
They sent word out to their guys in Palm Springs to report back if they saw her. After a further hour there were no reports and Alice was worried.
“Where do you think she‘s gone?”
“No idea. She didn‘t pack: she just ran away. Could be anywhere, but we‘ll find her. We might have hit the mattresses but we‘ve eyes and ears all over town and across the state. She‘ll be okay.”
“I hope you‘re right.”
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS later and they still hadn‘t found Mama. If she was holed up somewhere in Palm Springs, Bobby reckoned they‘d have found her. This meant she was further afield and therefore going to be harder to find: where would be the first place she‘d go? No-one was too sure.
With Naldo watching their backs, Bobby and Alice began a road trip while Frank carried on his San Francisco exploits oblivious to the misery in his family. They kept him out of the loop because he had enough to worry about on the front line against Markov. Truth was, telling him didn‘t even flash across either of their minds. Frank had spent so many years apart from the rest, they forgot he was a member of the family.
As Alice had set up a crib in Bakersfield, they tried the printers first but Mary Lou hadn‘t surfaced there at all. Then off to Malibu in case she‘d visit Alice‘s home but again they drew a blank.
“The Palace has a suite. We should try there next.”
THREE HOURS LATER, they pulled into the Palace and headed inside. It was quiet. Four hookers hung near the reception in the hope of a john while the second floor was devoid of human life. Up to the penthouse in search of Mama. The living room was empty but there were crockery and utensils out. The manager said no-one had been up there since Milt
on was killed, apart from the cleaning service.
Alice and Bobby checked the bedrooms and Naldo stayed near the entrance, always alert to external danger. Bobby heard Alice scream and rushed in to see what she had found, passing Naldo who had already drawn his weapon.
“Wait here.”
Bobby feared the worst and steeled himself to find her corpse. When he ran through the doorway, Mary Lou was huddled on the bed, naked, and mumbling to herself. He couldn‘t tell how long she‘d been there, but the chances were she‘d come straight here, judging by the acrid smell in the room and the mess on the floor.
Alice backed away unable to deal with the state of her mother. This once great strong woman reduced to a ball of humanity on a bed. Bobby felt the pain of seeing his lover, friend and confidante at an all-time low. And it was his job to look after her: in sickness and in health.
He held Mary Lou in his arms until her mutterings ceased and she looked at him and smiled.
“I‘m glad you‘re here. I got lost and didn‘t know where you were. I was scared.”
“Sure but we‘re here now.”
“We?”
“Alice is with me.”
“Alice?”
“Yes, see?”
Mary Lou peered over Bobby‘s shoulder at her daughter and Alice raised a smile from beneath her tears. Mama smiled back.
“We don‘t live here. I‘ll help you get yourself sorted out and then we‘ll take a ride home.”
“That‘d be nice. I‘d like to eat first though.”
35
THE JOURNEY FROM the Palace was filled with silence in between awkward pauses. Alice was beside herself, unsure how to respond to her mother who appeared unaware anything unusual might have happened. Naldo drove with Bobby in the front passenger seat, leaving the women in the back.
“Would you like us to stop at a diner so you can have a break?”
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