Charlie remained silent.
“He just reviewed the videotapes at Harrah’s,” Iandolli said. “The kid who tried to cut you is with a local Vietnamese gang here in Las Vegas.”
“Great,” Charlie said. “Everybody wants a piece of me.”
“You mentioned the Asian kids with the cars stopping you and your girlfriend, right?”
Charlie nodded.
“That had to come from here,” Iandolli explained. “From one of our wiseguys here in Las Vegas. Jerry Lercasi, specifically.”
“This mean I’m moving to the Philippines?”
“I’m afraid they can probably get you there, too. But I’m pretty sure I can deal with Lercasi. Especially since yesterday.”
Charlie looked confused as he opened the door. Iandolli waved at him to get in the car. “I’ll explain later,” he said. “Let’s take a ride.”
Chapter 51
Bouncing bedsprings in the room next door woke Francone. He called Caesar’s Palace to make sure Anthony Rizzi was still checked in. After he left a phone message for Rizzi, Francone washed himself and left the dump of a motel.
He was still feeling pain from the stitches in his rectum as he sat in a taxi. He popped the last two painkillers while on his way to Caesar’s Palace. As soon as he could find a water fountain inside the casino, Francone drank until his stomach hurt.
He used a house telephone to call Rizzi’s room. The wannabe from Jersey City answered on the second ring.
“Anthony, it’s Joey,” Francone said.
“Ah-oh, hey, what’s up?” Rizzi asked, sounding nervous. “I-ah, I’ve been trying to get you guys for two days already.”
“I’m here now,” Francone said. “I’m downstairs by the sports book, but I can’t come up without a hotel card. Come down and bring me back up.”
“The sports book?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m watching the track screens and having a drink. Hurry up.”
When he hung up with Rizzi, Francone wasn’t sure if the stitches in his rectum would hold if he kept moving around. He found a chair with a desktop to sit at. He asked a cocktail waitress for an orange juice and a glass of water. There was no point drinking booze, he was thinking. Between the medication he was taking and the fact that it had been more than two full days since his last decent workout, how could he poison his body with booze?
Anthony Rizzi told the valet that he had changed his mind about checking out but would he please take the bags downstairs anyway. The valet looked confused until Rizzi palmed him a twenty-dollar bill.
“I got a friend’s gonna stay in my place until the end of the week,” Rizzi said.
“That’s fine with me, sir,” the valet said. “You want I should prepare these here bags for a taxi? I’ll keep ’em close to the bell desk.”
“That’ll be fine, buddy,” Rizzi said.
He waited until the valet left before stopping to examine himself in a mirror. Rizzi was minutes from leaving Las Vegas and his New York mobster friends for good. He had talked it over with his brother back in New Jersey and decided that a mob life wasn’t for him after all. He would return to New Jersey and talk to somebody in law enforcement about the truck Nicholas Cuccia had im to keep in one of his warehouses. Rizzi wasn’t exactly sure what was inside the truck, but he knew it was hot.
He stood up straight and nodded at himself in the mirror. Francone was waiting for him downstairs. It was time to get out of there.
He took the elevator down to the lobby, crossed the huge casino floor, and found the sports book. He spotted Francone sitting at one of the desks, but the young bodybuilder wasn’t watching the screens. Francone seemed to be leaning forward as he touched himself in the crack of his ass.
“Joey?” Rizzi asked from behind.
Francone shifted fast on his chair. His face expressed pain when he looked up at Rizzi. “Hemorrhoids,” he said. “Most painful fuckin’ thing in the world.”
Rizzi watched as Francone struggled out from the desk he was sitting at. “Everything all right?” Rizzi asked when he noticed his friend was limping.
“Not since I got these. But there are a few problems. You talk to Nicky yet?”
“Nicky? Ah, no, not yet. I’ve been trying to get you guys.”
Francone grabbed onto one of Rizzi’s arms for support. “Why don’t we go upstairs and talk about it. It ain’t good. Lano, that rat, did a flip on us while he’s out here. He turned on Nicky.”
Rizzi felt his stomach drop.
“Why don’t you go up and I’ll be right there,” he said. “I was just going to get some money out of the deposit box.”
Francone had looked upset that Rizzi was excusing himself. Then, at the mention of getting money, Francone seemed at ease again. “Money? Yeah, that’s always a good idea. Gimme the room key and I’ll use the bathroom while you’re down here.”
“Sure,” Rizzi said. He handed Francone the flat electronic room key. “I’ll be right up.”
Francone stopped Rizzi. “Hey.”
“What?”
“You didn’t even kiss me hello.”
Rizzi leaned forward to exchange the traditional cheek kisses. The two men exchanged phony smiles.
“Don’t lose anything on the way back up,” Francone joked.
Rizzi continued to smile until Francone wasn’t looking. Then he walked away as fast as he could.
Chapter 52
“This unofficial harassment or the official kind?” Jerry Lercasi asked Detective Iandolli. The gangster ignored Charlie.
The three men stood behind the building model on the Palermo construction site. Charlie noticed that they were standing fewer than ten yards from where he had been assaulted. He looked back to the ditch where he had been left unconscious. The ditch was half-filled with gravel now.
“I wanted you to meet somebody,” Iandolli told the Las Vegas gangster.
Lercasi nodded without looking at Charlie.
“His name is Charlie Pellecchia,” Iandolli continued. “He’s the poor bastard some wiseguy from New York is trying to kill.”
Lercasi glanced at Charlie and turned back to the detective. “He looks alive to me,” he said.
“He looks better than your accountant.”
“My accountant? What happened to him now?”
Iandolli held both his hands up. “Let’s not blow smoke at each other.”
Lercasi looked in the direction of a bulldozer pushing dirt about a hundred yards from where the three men were standing. “I’m listening,” he said.
“I wanta trade-off,” Iandolli said. “This guy gets a pass for information you can use when the shit hits the fan back East.”
Lercasi shrugged. “What makes you think I can do anything for this guy?”
“Some Vietnamese kid in a hospital downtown,” Iandolli said. “He got his head cracked trying to stab Mr. Pellecchia here. That one had to go through you, whether Nicholas Cuccia approached you or not.”
“You give me way too much credit, pal.”
“So let’s make believe it went through you. For argument sake. The bottom line is you can get him a pass.”
“Really? You think I’m that powerful, huh?”
“I know it. Which is why I don’t want to go back and forth with you right now, just to waste time. I have something you can give to New York in exchange for that pass for Mr. Pellecchia here. So when he goes home, he doesn’t have to hide under a couch.”
“I’ll ask you again,” Lercasi said. “What makes you think I can do anything in New York?”
“Because Allen Fein arranged the assault at the Palermo,” Iandolli said. “And he arranged the assault of a woman at a motel in town. Which you have to know by now or else Allen Fein wouldn’t have a tag on his foot in the city morgue.”
“That’s very dramatic,” Lercasi said.
“And true,” Iandolli said. “Hey, nobody is complaining. The world is definitely a better place. Maybe the Feds care. Maybe not.”