Sicilian Defense (16 page)

Sandro studied Gianni. “If it didn't have to do with this case, I sure as hell wouldn't. But how can I turn you down?”

“Thank you, Sandro,” said Gianni.

“I'd better get out there before they take him to court.”

“If you manage to talk to him, call me here,” said Gianni.

“Right.” Sandro left with Gus trailing behind him.

Gianni lit a cigarette and looked at his watch. It was only 5: 15—still almost three hours until they would receive the next phone call.

“We've got to make sure that Sal's still alive,” Gianni said to no one in particular.

“Those bastards,” said Frankie the Pig. “Those miserable niggers.”

Just then the door of the garage opened as Big Diamond bent low and entered. He stood tall, a fat cigar in his mouth, his beige fedora at a rakish tilt. He was dressed in a brown suit with a beige shirt and beige silk tie. His shoes were golden brown, and shined to sparkling. Lloyd came in behind Big Diamond. He stood, dark and stern, next to Big Diamond, looking around apprehensively.

“Did I hear someone complaining about my people, or talking about those worthless niggers who took your friend, Gianni?” he said, a big smile on his face.

“Ah, you big son of a bitch,” said Gianni. The two men embraced, clapping each other on the back.

“Son of a bitch yourself,” said Big Diamond. “You getting stronger and handsomer than ever. Lloyd—” he turned, “Gianni, this here is Lloyd, my main man. Lloyd, this is Gianni, the Silver Eagle. Man, he used to turn those silver curls on the broads and they'd be out cold—I mean done, signed, sealed and delivered.” Big Diamond gave out with a big laugh and put his arm around Gianni's shoulders.

“And what about you?” said Gianni. “He'd get these little dames, pick them up in the air and dance them all over the floor without their feet touching the ground. They'd feel his muscles and they'd be done for.”

They both laughed again.

“Come on into my fancy office,” said Gianni.

“It's no worse than some of the places we have to work out of sometimes—right, Lloyd?” said Big Diamond. “Matter of fact, it's better than some.” He settled back in a chair. “Well now, any news on Sal?”

“Not yet. We expect a call about eight o'clock,” said Gianni. “Did you pick up any news for us?”

“Nothing much,” replied Big Diamond. “Lloyd's been going around, and so have the rest of our guys, but we can't raise too much noise. We don't want these people to go underground.”

“Well, we've got a possible lead in your area,” said Gianni. “One of the men involved in this may be going with a girl named Kitty Johnson, who lives in Queens—and I think she's a barmaid in a joint called the Pirate's Den.”

“That's what it is exactly,” said Big Diamond, “a joint.”

Lloyd nodded agreement. “A lot of small-time chiselers, punks and junkies hang out there. You picked the right place, all right.”

“Can we get some information on this girl and her boyfriend?”

“Oh, we'll get it all right, Gianni,” said Big Diamond. “We'll go right back now, and I'll send over a couple of guys who won't raise too much notice. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know if she's got some special guy; if she's in tight with any group we might check out on this kidnaping.”

“Can you do that, Lloyd?” Big Diamond asked.

“Sure, Big,” replied Lloyd. “You want it, we'll do it. I'll send a couple of guys in there. You want me to call them now?”

“No, we'll go back. I think we should pick them personally. If we screw it up, there's one of our friends going to be killed.”

“I appreciate it,” said Gianni.

“Now don't give me that appreciation shit. You're my man—I owe it to you, you owe it to me. We do it because we're old-timers from old times. Right, Gianni?”

“You're right, Big,” Gianni smiled. “A hundred percent. It's nice to know there are still a few of us who feel that way.”

“It's sweet to be able to do it, Gianni. It really is. Oh, yes,” he said, turning to Lloyd and putting out his hand. Lloyd handed him an envelope. Big Diamond handed it to Gianni.

“What's this?” asked Gianni.

“It's some long green,” Big Diamond said, “in case you need a little extra. There's ten large there.”

“No, no,” Gianni said. “I can't take this.”

“You bet your ass you can. If you don't need it, you give it back. But if you need it, I want you to use it.” He pressed the envelope in Gianni's hand. “I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me. 'Cause when I get snatched, I want to know my boys have someplace to come and put the touch.” Big Diamond laughed.

The phone rang. Tony picked it up. “It's for you, Gianni.”

It was Sandro. “Wait a minute, Big,” Gianni said. “I may have something else.”

Big Diamond and Lloyd stood by the door, watching Gianni on the phone. He hung up and looked at them. “One of our boys got arrested in this Kitty Johnson's apartment. The lawyer just spoke to him,” said Gianni. “She's the right girl all right. Now when we find out who her friends are, we're going to be breathing on their necks.”

“Man, if anybody can breathe hot on their necks, it's me and Lloyd: right, Lloyd?”

Lloyd nodded, his face stern, his lips drawn tight. “We'll find them.”

Tony, who was watching from the doorway, liked Lloyd, he liked the way he worked. “You need any help breathing, just give me a ring: I breathe pretty good too,” said Tony.

“I'll find them, and you take it from there,” said Lloyd.

“That's a deal,” said Tony.

“Come on, now, let's go,” said Big Diamond. “We'll call you as soon as we get the information.”

“As fast as you can, Big,” said Gianni.

“Even faster than that,” said Big Diamond, waving as he and Lloyd walked out of the garage.

7:50 P.M.

“Fifty-five, sixty. Sixty thousand here,” said Frankie the Pig, counting packages of hundred dollar bills in five-thousand-dollar wrappers. The packages were piled on the office desk. Gianni watched him count. Tony and Gus were standing by the door. Outside in the garage Angie the Kid and Bobby Matteawan were sitting on a bench, watching TV.

“And here's the other ten from Big Diamond,” said Gianni, handing over the envelope.

“That makes seventy,” said Frankie the Pig.

“That big nigger's all right,” allowed Tony.

“He sure is,” said Gianni, taking an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “Here's twenty-five more.”

Frankie the Pig looked at Gianni as he took the envelope from him, adding it to the pile on the table. “Now we have what we need.”

“We have to have it all,” said Gianni. “But I'll try to bargain them down.”

“Will we pay them tonight?” Tony asked.

“I'm going to try to stall them. See if we can get another day out of it,” said Gianni, “now that we're making some progress.”

“Right,” said Tony; “if we can track down this dame, we can track down her boyfriend.”

Bobby Matteawan came in the door. “Yeah, we'll get his name out of her.” A satanic look of pleasure gleamed in his eyes.

“And when we get the boyfriend, we'll get them all,” said Frankie the Pig. “They'll be sorry they were ever born on this earth.”

“Come on,” said Gianni, calling them back to the matter at hand. “I'm more interested in getting Sal back alive than in tortures and killing.”

The others looked at him.

“That's right,” Gianni repeated firmly, looking at them each in turn. “I want Sal. I want them, too, but I'm not licking my chops over their blood.” Gianni fell silent, drawing back from what had been gnawing at him for two days.

“I'll take your share, Gianni,” said Bobby Matteawan.

“I'm not in this for blood,” Gianni repeated. “I'm in it for Sal.”

“So are we, so are we,” said Frankie the Pig. “But these bastards and all their friends have to be taught a lesson they won't ever forget. How are you going to handle them once we get hold of them, Gianni?”

“I'm not worrying about that yet,” Gianni said carefully. “After I get Sal back, I'll see. Right now, I've got more important things on my mind. Or don't you agree?”

They looked sheepish, wilting before Gianni's strength.

“We better be sure we do get Sal back,” said Frankie the Pig.

“And get him alive,” added Gianni.

The thought brought them up short.

“You think they'd kill Sal?” asked Gus.

“The slimy bastards,” said Tony.

“We have to include that possibility,” said Gianni.

“How can we guarantee we get him back alive?” asked Frankie the Pig.

“I'm not sure yet,” said Gianni. “That's something I have to work out with them tonight. I'm not buying a cat in a bag, even if the cat is Sal.”

The phone rang, its sound taking the breath out of them. Gianni's hand reached out for it automatically.

“No, it's the wall phone,” said Tony, pointing to it. He picked up the receiver. “It's for you, Gianni. It's Big Diamond.”

Gianni rose swiftly and took it.

“Gianni, this is Big. We got that girl. She was working behind the bar.”

“Does she know anything?” asked Gianni.

“Don't know yet. We took her right out of the place. Lloyd and a couple of his guys are taking her to an apartment they've got. They're going to talk to her.”

“You want me to send someone up there?” Gianni said.

“No, thanks—we can handle a girl. Christ, Gianni. What kind of boys you think I have anyway?” Big Diamond started to laugh. “You guys just sit tight, we'll get some information for you in a little. I'll call you back. I just wanted you to know we're moving right along.”

“All right. I'll be here. All night if necessary.”

Gianni hung up just as the other phone was beginning to ring. He picked up the receiver, realizing as he did so that Sal's life was on the line. He also realized that the police were on the line too.

“Hello Mister Big,” said the same deep voice from the night before. “You guys ready to do some business?”

“We're ready.”

Feigin and Schmidt at the listening post had their earphones on. They winked at each other. The tape machine was recording.

“Good. Now, you got the bread, man?”

“Not a hundred,” said Gianni.

“What you mean, not a hundred?” asked the voice. “I told you a hundred, and that's what we want.”

“It's not easy to raise that much so fast,” said Gianni calmly. “We've got seventy.”

“Seventy? You kidding me, man? I should have told you a hundred fifty, then you'd come up with the hundred. You better get that other thirty real fast, or you're going to get a real dead man real fast.”

“Don't go getting steamed,” said Gianni softly. “Seventy isn't chicken feed either. We don't make funny money and it's tough to come by a lot of cash these days.”

“You can get it,” said the voice.

“We scraped everywhere we could, believe me. We don't have a bank we can go to. Seventy is all we could get. What the hell. Seventy goes a long way. It buys a lot of living,” Gianni said.

“Not long enough, man. We got a lot to make up for.”

“What will killing the old man do for you? Give you a five-second charge? That charge won't buy a thing,” said Gianni.

“Seventy's not enough,” the voice insisted.

“I can't get a hundred,” said Gianni.

“You damn well better.”

“How do I know the old man is still alive? I don't want to buy a recording.”

The voice laughed. “You guys won't get a recording. I know who I'm dealing with.”

“How do we know that? I mean, if I can scrape a couple more bucks together, how do I know I still have a live man?”

“You think I'd lie to you, man? If I say you'll get your man, you'll get him. How much more you going to get?”

“Maybe another five thousand,” said Gianni.

“Hey, man, don't fuck with me,” said the voice, hostile and vicious suddenly. “You think you fucking around with some shit heel?”

“Don't get hot under the collar,” Gianni said coolly. “We don't just reach into the air and pick out five thousand—just think of it, if you had to come up with five thousand in three seconds, where would you turn? Same with us. We got to scrape it up.”

“Don't bullshit me, man. You got to do better than that,” said the voice.

“I can't come up with it right now—I mean I'll need some time.”

“Hey, man, I think you think we're fucking around. Remember that guy we threw out the car the other night? Man, your friend is an old man, he's lighter than the other guy. We'll throw him right through the window into your lap, you fuck with us.”

“I'm not. I'm trying to make a legitimate deal with you—straight, on the level. You've got us over a barrel, and I'm playing your game. I'm telling you straight: I'll try to get more money. But I need some time on it.”

The others in the room were listening intently. Bobby Matteawan was outside in the garage, pacing, excited and nervous.

Schmidt and Feigin were looking at each other, their faces reacting as the conversation unfolded.

“That's right, we got you over a barrel, and we going to keep you there from now on. You ain't going to be able to string this thing out and keep playing games with us, man,” said the voice.

“I'm not trying to. I know when someone means business,” said Gianni, “and I know when I'm in a tight spot. This is one of them—I'd be crazy to try to string it out.”

“That's the truth.”

“I just need time to get some extra money. As it is, we've tapped everybody we know and we're still short of a hundred. But I figure we can get more. I don't know where, but I'm going to get it.”