Chicago Wipe-Out te-8 Read online

  "So I don't know, Mr. Giovanni — I can't locate no handle on the boy in Vegas. It could be that he just drifted this far, and got stuck by the storm and is just waiting a chance to move on. I'd say..."

  "When we're in this office here," the Capoinstructed kindly, "you can call me Gio. All of you. Okay? It sounds better."

  "Sure, Gio."

  "I wish you'd brought this boy out here so I could talk to him myself personal. I like to hear it right from the horse's mouth."

  Benny Rocco shifted about nervously and admitted, "I made that decision, Gio, and I'm sorry you don't like it. The boy was nervous as hell and I could tell that he would blow right out if I started pressuring him. I wanted to keep him friendly."

  "Well, maybe you handled it right after all, Benny," Giovanni replied. "At least..." The steely gaze shifted to Charles Drago, the chief doorman and undeclared security boss during the club's normal operations. "At least I got to say Charlie used his head, getting more than one witness to what was being told."

  Drago smiled soberly and said, "Thanks, Gio. I don't know why, I just didn't think you'd want to be bothered with — I mean, it didn't seem that important at the time. You know how this stuff goes around. I figured it was just some more of that gossip always drifting up from the Loop."

  "Yeah," Giovanni replied sourly.

  "That stuff about the police cars is what turned me around," Rocco stated quietly.

  "Yeah," the Donagreed, slipping even deeper into the thronelike chair. "With good cause. Jake has more personal clout than even I got. I should've took him off that territory a long time ago, I guess. The way him and City Jim have been cozying it up these past few years... I guess... well, so you boys think it's straight stuff, eh? Turk? You're willing to risk everything you've built up on the strength of what this will of the wisp from Jersey told you with miles of phone wires between you?"

  "It checks out, Gio," Turk assured his Capo. "I sent two boys around there, my own personal boys, to really look it over. Jake has got about a hundred boys all right, mobbed up at Manny's. None of 'em even knew what they were doing there, except they were told they're going to be riding in police cars. Then these crew chiefs came out of the office and threw my boys out. I mean flat tossed their asses out in the snow."

  "That's a carpet offense right there," Rocco muttered, adding, "They're cooking something, I'd bet my life on that, Gio."

  Drago put in, "Jake was sure anxious to have a cozy talk with Turk, I know that much. And he sure put the soft pressure on me to keep it to myself."

  "You're saying that he was trying to recruit Turk," Giovanni observed.

  "It sure would make a person think so, the way he was quieting it around."

  "That just shows how crazy he really is," Turk muttered.

  "Well I guess I don't like it at all," the boss declared, scowling even harder. "I just can't picture Jake coming all out that way. Sly stuff, yeah, maybe I could picture that. But this coming all out... even to joining up with or recruiting Bolan... I can't see Jake doing that."

  "If you'll pardon me, Gio," said Rocco, "it does sound pretty sly to me. If he's moving in under cover of this Bolan thing, and maybe even using this boy to run interference for him, then I'd have to say that was a pretty rotten trick."

  "Yeah you're right there, Benny," the Capomused. His gaze shifted to Larry Turk. "I proposed you, Turk, you know that — for this thing you've got now."

  "Yessir, and I appreciate the honor, you can believe that."

  "I didn't do it for honors. I told the council you are the only man for the job. And I sincerely believe that."

  "Thanks, Gio. I won't let you down."

  "I know you won't. Now... about this other matter. Pete the Hauler. Of course, we're not supposed to discuss this beforehand. But... well, you understand, this is a really unusual thing we got going here tonight, I mean all of it together." He drummed his fingers on the desk top for a moment of quiet thought, then he sighed and said, "Light me a cigar, Charlie."

  In misery, Turk thought, Well here's where Pete the Hauler gets let off.

  Drago had produced a silver cigar holder and carefully placed in it a roll of leaves that were valued at approximately $50, considering the expense of having a box specially flown up each week from Jamaica. He lit the cigar, then removed it from the holder and passed it to the Capo. The silver holder went back into Drago's pocket and the Capowent on with his "forbidden discussion" with Larry Turk.

  "But listen now, Turk. I know that what happened down there this evening between you and Pete is just like you claim. I know that, mainly because I know you, and especially because I know Golden Peter Lavallo. He and Louis were about the next thing to asshole buddies... I've even wondered about those two sometimes. Well, anyway, I can understand how he could go off his rocker that way and want a piece of Louis' assassin for himself. I mean, you just naturally understand these things."

  Here it comes, thought Larry Turk.

  "Understanding is one thing, of course," the Capoquietly went on. "Discipline is something else again. You know, with all respects to the dead, I never much liked Louis Aurielli. I went along with him mainly for Pete's sake. I'm telling you this so you'll understand what I'm going to say next. Pete Lavallo and me go back a long ways. And I love that boy, I really love 'im. But I love this thing we got, all of us, a whole lot more. And because of that, I'm going to send Pete back down the ladder. I'm going to take away everything he's got. Can you understand that? Everything. I'm going to strip him bare, and I'm going to exile him. I think I'll send him to Arizona or maybe New Mexico. And if he can behave himself out there for a year or two, I'll let him come back. But he'll come back just as stripped as he was when he left. Now that's what I'm going to do to Golden Peter Lavallo."

  The three younger men standing at the desk were obviously highly impressed by this kingly predisposition of a pending case.

  Larry Turk fidgeted and commented, "I really didn't mean he should get hit that hard, Gio. I just wanted it understood that I couldn't stand for that kind of stuff, not when I'm supposed to be running a thing."

  "You boys sit down," Don Gio commanded, suddenly aware that they'd been standing there for quite some time.

  The three exchanged glances with each other and pulled up chairs in a semi-circular lineup in front of the desk. Giovanni puffed on the cigar and stared at the ceiling for perhaps a full minute, then the eyes dropped and found their level with Larry Turk's troubled gaze.

  "Why do you think I'm telling you all this, Turk?" the Capoasked. "And with these other two boys right here listening in. Why do you think?"

  Turk didn't have to think. He knew. The thing was almost ceremonial — something pretty great was being conferred here tonight. He hesitated slightly, then replied, "I guess you're showing us your love for this thing of ours, Gio."

  "That's right, that's part of it. I don't love it this much, though, just because I'm the boss. It's the other way around. I'm the boss because I love our thing this much. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

  "Yessir, and I appreciate the lesson, I really do."

  "Okay, don't mention it. But think about it. You think about it, and when you're done thinking you tell me what all this means to you."

  "I guess I can tell you right now, Gio."

  "So?"

  "So it's a damn shame you have to be part of this dirt that's going on, and I don't like you being a part of it. By your leave, Don Gio, I'm taking full charge of things out here tonight. I don't want your mind bothered with such trash. With these two boys sitting here as witnesses, I'm saying that I take full responsibility for what goes on here at this place — and all over town, for that matter. However it comes out, I'm the one made the decisions."

  "So. About what?"

  "About everything," Turk declared. "But in particular about Joliet Jake Vecci and his downtown rag-a-tags."

  Don Gio promptly left his fully automated throne, walked around the desk, placed his hands upon Larry
Turk's shoulders, and kissed him full on the mouth. Then he quietly said, "All right, you boys leave me alone now. And send Pete the Hauler in here."

  The three confidants to the throne took a hurried leave, and once they were outside, Larry Turk chuckled nervously and said, "Shit, I hope that's no kiss of death."

  "It wasn't," Charles Drago assured him. "I never saw the old man do that before. He was genuinely moved, Turk. He really was."

  "Well I didn't mean that part," Turk replied. "I mean, if we win, sure, it's going to be beautiful. But what if we lose? Who's holding this big dirty bag, eh?"

  Rocco added, "And what if we win here and lose somewhere else. You know what you just did, Turk. You just offered to take all the blame, in case the nationals decide something ain't exactly straight about all this."

  "We'll worry about that when we need to," Turk replied brusquely. "Right now we got a lot of things to do. First we got to pull some people offa that Bolan watch. He's tying down just about all the talent we got. And I guess we're not going to play that game, not with what we know now. And we gotta start contacting people. I'll work the underbosses. Benny, you take over and start working on the caporegimesand the freelooting civilians, I mean all of 'em. Charlie, you got the oil — I guess you know what your job is."

  Drago grinned and replied, "Okay, I'll start phoning people in Jake's outfit."

  "You guys have to know," Turk declared soberly, "I'll always remember you for this."

  Humorously, Rocco said, "You don't think we'll ever let you forget. You know, this could go down in history."

  "And what about Bolan?" Charles Drago asked darkly.

  "FuckBolan," Larry Turk growled. "That guy is way down on my list of worries right now."

  The trumpets of destiny were loudly sounding the call to battle, it seemed, and more than one empire had been built upon the ruins of war. The turkeymaker would do well to remember, however, that the world is subject to both wars and rumors of wars — and "that guy" — wherever his place on Larry Turk's list, is something of an expert in both.

  11

  Inside straight

  The atmosphere in Manny's back room had become almost unbearably dense with smoke from cigars and cigarettes, and there was hardly room left to cram another person inside. Crew chiefs sprawled about on the floor, some sitting with their backs against the wall, others kneeling or squattng on their haunches. They had carefully left a "pacing path" for the boss, however, and the old man was seemingly bent on wearing out the thin carpeting along that route, muttering to himself in monosyllabic Italian and every so often pounding his palm with a fist or slapping the wall above the head of a crew chief. Meninghetti and Spanno sat in straightback chairs and stared glumly into space.

  No one was talking; all seemed to be quietly pondering the fates of the night. When the boss "thought" — everybody "thought."

  Then Captain Hamilton came in and left the door standing ajar, wrinkling his nose at the stale air. He caught Vecci's eye during a downward pass and demanded, "Well?"

  "Well I ain't decided yet!" the underboss snarled.

  "You've got to make up your mind, Jake," the Captain pleaded. "I can't keep those cars circling the neighborhood all night. People are already starting to notice. Either we start loading right now or I've got to send them on without you."

  "Since when," Jake coldly wanted to know, "is a kinky Chicago cop, even a fat-ass captain of detectives, so damn sure of living through th' night?"

  Hamilton's eyes recoiled and he replied, "Don't threaten me, Jake."

  "That's not a threat, it's a promise!" Vecci yelled. "Now shut up and lemme think!"

  Hamilton crossed over and edged his rear end onto the desk. Mario Meninghetti caught his eye with a sympathetic smile; Hamilton gave him a sick one in return.

  The pacing continued for another minute, then Vecci planted his feet and punched a quivering finger toward the police captain. "I ain't sending my soldiers out on no routine patrols until I find out what the hell is going on around here!"

  The cop nodded his head agreeably. "I think you're right, Jake — that's good thinking. So let's cancel the whole thing. What you need is a defense line, not a patrol."

  "Shut up! Just shut up! Mario!"

  Meninghetti looked up quickly. "Yeah, boss?"

  "Tell me again. Tell me what he said. Exact words now, exact!"

  "They said that Charlie Drago is calling around. He's saying the time has come to leave the sinkin' ship. Any boys that make it out there by midnight will be welcomed with open arms. Anyone showing up after that, meaning anyone from the Loop regime, had better just keep on going clear outta the state."

  "That ain't exactly the way you told me before!" Vecci cried.

  "Christ, Jake, I'm not no tape recorder."

  "Did they say anyboys?"

  "Yeah, that's what they said."

  "By midnight?"

  "Exactly boss, that's exactly."

  "Awright, that's great! That's exactly what we'll do!"

  Meninghetti scowled. "We'll do what?"

  "We'll allgo out there. We'll get this misunderstanding cleared up. We can make it by midnight." The subcapoturned to Captain Hamilton. "Didn't you say it'd stopped snowing?"

  Hamilton nodded, obvious relief written all over his face. "But it's still nasty as hell out there, Jake. It's a freezing rain now, not too heavy, but the streets are getting hellish. You'd better get moving right away if you're going to make it by midnight."

  Meninghetti growled, "Well now wait a minute, Jake. Are yougoing out there too?"

  "Sure I am."

  "You'll be walking right into it!" the caporegimereplied despairingly.

  "Maybe I will and maybe I won't." Vecci's mind seemed to be made up. Even his good humor was returning. He winked at Pops Spanno and said, "Go out and tell the boys to get ready. We're loadin' up."

  "Loading up in what?" Captain Hamilton groaned.

  "Stop worrying, we're not riding in your bubble-gum machines, that's for sure. I ain't dumb enough to go rolling in there in police cars. Save about two out, and send the rest of them on, Ham."

  "What're we saving two for?"

  "Escorts, dammit. You ride the front one, and you move through this town damn quick, you hear?"

  Hamilton protested, "Jesus Christ, I can't go running off just..."

  "The hell you can't," Vecci calmly told him. "The only thing can stop you is a bullet in the head."

  The Captain's face turned a beefy red. He spun about and slammed out of the office.

  Joliet Jake grinned and told Meninghetti, "Okay, Mario. Let's get moving. Get those crew wagons around in front. I want 'em out there in five minutes and loadin'."

  The crew chiefs were scrambling to their feet. Meninghetti told them, "Come on outside, boys. We'll run through this once over lightly, and let's not make no mistakes." As the men filed out, he turned to his boss and asked him, "Are you going to call ahead?"

  "Sure I'm going to call ahead. You think I'm nuts or something? Damn right I'm calling ahead."

  "Are we going armed?"

  "You kidding? You go with every damn arm you got!"

  The caporegimefrowned and followed his crewchiefs out of the office.

  Joliet Jake was already on the phone and punching the number for Giovanni's. It would not be proper to call Don Gio direct, not at a time like this, but Gio would get the word relayed to him. He'd better. There was only one way to straighten out a misunderstanding like this — well, twoways — and Jake knew exactly what they were. It would either take soft words or hot lead.

  Either way, Jake sure wasn't waiting until half his soldiers had gone over to the other side before he started working toward that understanding. Hell no. Joliet Jake hadn't survived forty years on the streets on thatkind of dumbness.

  * * *

  A taxicab was idling at the curb in front of Manny's Posh. The meter was ticking and the cabbie was chatting amiably with his fare, a tall man in a gray suit and topcoat. A gra
y Homburg was worn square across the forehead, a leather patch covered one eye, and an unlit pipe was clamped loosely between his teeth. A small square briefcase sat on the seat beside him.

  Another man in gray emerged from the club and stepped in front of the cab to peer agitatedly down the street.

  The cabbie told his passenger, "Okay, he must be the one. That's Captain Hamilton out of Central."

  The man with the eyepatch murmured his thanks and dropped a twenty dollar bill over the seat as he exited.

  Hamilton had moved into the street and was waving down an approaching vehicle, a police cruiser. The cruiser pulled to the curb behind the taxi; Hamilton walked along the street side of the cab, moving with care on the freezing surface, and was intercepted beside the police car by the man with the eyepatch.

  "Are these your vehicles, Captain?" the man snapped.

  "Who wants to know?" Hamilton replied, eyeing the man warily.

  The guy showed him a thin smile and said, "Tell you what, Captain. I won't mention your name if you won't ask mine."

  "Okay, what's up?" Hamilton said, sighing.

  "Jim has had about a dozen calls about this police parade you've got here. He says, for God's sake, break it up."

  "You tell Jim I've been trying to do that for nearly half an hour. And you tell him, furthermore, that something's going to have to be done about that crazy old man in there. I believe he still thinks he's living in the 1950's or something."

  "Jake can be hard to take sometimes. But so can a two block lineup of police cars. What's the idea?"

  "Aw, that old lunatic got this wild plan for planting torpedoes in police cars and running Bolan to ground. I think he wanted to show the youngbloods around here that the old men still have plenty of the oldtime muscle. Anyway, he thought he was going to personally capture Mack Bolan and proudly display his head on a warpole or something. But I've got him talked out of it. I was just coming out to send the cars away."