Mario Salerno — Little Balls Salerno — from Miami Bird-like, a wizened little man, head darting back and forth suspiciously, deeply tanned skin stretched grotesquely over sharply defined bones, a big beak of a nose, and sharp-pointed chin. He had started with the gambling dens in Havana, moved to Miami, then stretched his bloody tentacles deep into the Caribbean and west to Las Vegas. At seventy-six he was the oldest active gang boss in America, but he wouldn't retire. He enjoyed his profession.
Alfred Gigante of Phoenix. As tanned by the sun as Mario Salerno, medium-sized, neatly dressed, hunched over, each move slow and deliberate, showing every one of his seventy-one years, but his startling blue eyes cold and piercing in the hairless head. It was whispered that his sexual pleasures ran toward little girls. He had made his way up the Mafia ladder as one of the first major heroin importers in the United States.
Anthony Musso — Tony the Priest — from Little Rock, Arkansas. Tall, slim, and graceful with a rich, benevolent look about him. Diamond rings flashed on his fingers and a diamond stickpin sparkled from his tie. He wore blue-tinted dark glasses that hid the acid scars around what had been his left eye before he lost it in the gang wars of the early 1930s. At seventy-one he was still the King of Prostitution, though he claimed to have made more money in stolen property than in any of his other operations.
One by one they filed into the board room. I could see them through the open door, shaking hands over the table, exchanging pleasantries. The seven most venal men in America. Popeye Franzini was the last one to enter, pushed in by Louie. I could see the hot water bag under the wheelchair as they went in.
The rest of us, about fifteen or so, stood around restlessly in the anteroom eyeing each other suspiciously. No one was talking. Then the door to the Board Room closed.
My fist tightened spasmodically. I hadn't counted on Louie staying in the Board Room with his uncle. Dammit! I had come to like the guy! But of course, you can't afford to do that in my business.
I was just turning to go, when the door opened and Louie came out, closing it behind him. He walked over to me.
I looked at my watch. 10:23. Seven minutes to go. "Come on," I said with assumed nonchalance. "Let's take a walk and get a little air."
He looked at his own watch and grinned. "Sure! Why not? They'll be in there for at least an hour, probably more. Jeez! Isn't that Frank Carboni something? Boy, that guy just looks rich. And Tony the Priest! I saw him once when…"
He was still talking as we took the elevator down to the main lobby, where we collected our guns from the checkroom, then strolled out onto Park Avenue.
We had just crossed the street and were looking at the fountains flowing on the plaza of the big office building there when the explosion blew out most of the thirtieth floor of the Bankers Association Building.
Louie spun, one hand on my forearm, staring up as black smoke belched from high up on the side of the building. "What was that?"
"Just a guess," I replied casually, "but I think you just became head of the second biggest Mafia family in New York."
He never heard me. He was already running, dodging Park Avenue traffic like a football halfback, desperate to get back to the building, to his Uncle Joseph, to his responsibility.
I shrugged mentally and hailed a cab. As far as I was concerned, the job was over.
All I had to do was pick up Philomina at her apartment and head for the airport. I had the two tickets in my pocket and I figured that the two of us could use about three weeks in the Caribbean, just resting, loving, and relaxing. Then I would report back to Washington.
She met me at the door of the apartment, just as I let myself in, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her body against me.
"Hi, darling," she said happily. "Come on in the living room. I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?"
"A friend of yours." She laughed.
I went into the living room and David Hawk smiled at me from the couch. He stood up and came forward, his hand outstretched.
"Good to see you, Nick," he said.