Lercasi checked his watch. “I’m running a little late,” he said. “You want to tell me what I get out of all this?”
“Information. Except first I want your word that you’ll help Mr. Pellecchia here. You call off the Viet Cong and talk to New York.”
“What’s the information?”
“Say the magic word.”
Lercasi thought about it a few seconds, then said, “I’ll do what I can.”
“Nicholas Cuccia and the DEA,” Iandolli said.
Lercasi was impressed. “The DEA?”
“The one and only. Which means you’ll have clout dealing with New York.”
“What about proof? I won’t have anything but a headache without proof.”
“Trust me,” Iandolli said. “I have pictures.”
Lercasi seemed impressed again. “They say those are worth a thousand words,” he said. “Still, I can’t make promises.”
“I know how that is,” Iandolli said. “It’s the same way for me sometimes. I say I can do things, then find out later I can’t deliver. You’re going to get some federal flak from what’s been going on here this week. If things don’t happen the way we agreed, for Mr. Pellecchia here, there might be a few new things you can’t avoid.”
“Things like what? I’m just curious.”
“Whatever our surveillance picked up,” Iandolli said. “Where you ate yesterday. Who you ate with. A few back-and-forth telephone calls to the same restaurant. A surveillance tape with Mr. Fein and Nicholas Cuccia and another one of the New York crew. The Feds are much more meticulous than us local yokels, should they get the tape. They’d probably look into every detail, an indictment at a time. I don’t have to turn that information over to the Feds. It could slip my mind.”
Lercasi looked from Charlie to Iandolli. “Suppose they already have it, the Feds?”
“You’ in cuffs by now,” Iandolli said. “This place would be crawling with Feds. Your gym, your house, all your other fronts in this town. They’d be upside down from search warrants. This is a tourist town, Jerr. Nobody wants violence like this. Much less in the hotels themselves.”
Lercasi nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m not done yet,” Iandolli said. “There’s something else.”
Lercasi looked to Charlie. “You his brother or something?”
Charlie didn’t flinch.
“Beau Curitan,” Iandolli said.
“Beau who?” Lercasi said.
Iandolli unfolded his notepad. He wrote the name out on a blank sheet of paper and handed it to Lercasi. He pointed at the name as he pronounced each letter. “C-U-R-I-T-A-N,” he said. “Curitan. Pronounced just like it’s spelled. He was last seen speeding toward the Strip after he tried to rape a woman. He did manage to shoot her in the leg.”
Lercasi stared at the paper.
“You have friends across the good state of Nevada,” Iandolli continued. “Some in the auto repair and used-car businesses. Maybe they’d like to help catch an abusive husband who tried to rape some poor woman, then shot her when he couldn’t. In the event the guy tried to switch or sell a car, I mean.”
“And this would be an unofficial request or an unofficial favor?” Lercasi asked.
Iandolli turned to Charlie. “Does it make a difference to you?”
Charlie glared at both men. He didn’t think any of it was funny.
Chapter 53
When Agent Thomas saw Cuccia, the mobster was still groggy from painkillers. Cuccia’s mouth was sore from a fresh fracture to his jawbone. Two of his teeth were missing. Both lips on the left side of his face were swollen.
Thomas was anxious to get Cuccia out of the hospital. He was working with a thin grace period the FBI had provided him because Allen Fein was dead. He hustled Cuccia to get dressed.
“I don’t care your jaw hurts,” he said. “We have a flight out of here in three hours. We’re going to make it.”
Cuccia was sitting on the bed. He wiped drool and blood from his mouth with a napkin.
“You can’t say you didn’t deserve it,” Thomas continued. “This Pellecchia rebroke your jaw because you asked for it. Good for him. It’ll give you something to think about on the flight back.”
Thomas stood alongside Cuccia’s bed. He set an envelope with copies of the embarrassing pictures on a table.
“Where’s Francone?” Cuccia asked. He had to push the words from his mouth.
“Let’s go,” Thomas said. “Up and in the bathroom. Wash yourself and put your clothes on. We’re out of here in ten minutes.”
“Where’s Francone?”
“I have no clue. Probably in Singapore somewhere.”
Cuccia wasn’t moving yet. “Where -”
“Get dressed,” Thomas said. “I’m serious, we don’t have time to play around here. Not if you don’t want the FBI to take over.”
Cuccia slid off the edge of his bed. He winced from the pain in his jaw when his feet touched the floor. He pointed to the envelope on the table. “What’s that?”
“If you don’t already know, you don’t wanna know.”
Cuccia took slow, deliate steps to the bathroom. Thomas handed him his pants and shirt. “You have maybe a one-in-ten-million shot of keeping half your deal with us,” Thomas said. “Maybe, if you can get your uncle to move that heroin from here, over the phone. If not, you’re looking at life plus twenty or thirty years.”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
“Just get dressed.”
On the drive to the Bellagio, Charlie wanted to know why the hell Detective Iandolli had introduced him to Jerry Lercasi and why the hell he had brought up Beau Curitan.
“What was the point?” Charlie asked. “I don’t understand what you two were talking about back there. Except for Beau Curitan. And I didn’t appreciate the game going on with that. The woman he tried to rape was my girlfriend.”
“I took a shot,” Iandolli said.
“Took a shot at what?”
“Finding Mr. Curitan. If he drove straight through the state, it won’t make a difference, he’s gone by now. Sometimes guys like that panic and think they have to maneuver. They assume we have the jump on them. They get nervous and make mistakes.”
“What you said about the car dealers.”
“That and the junkyards. If this clown didn’t drive out of Nevada last night, he’s probably waiting to change his transportation. Lercasi has a long reach inside this state. The guy tries to do something with the car, there’s a chance he’ll get caught.”
“And why the fuck would Jerry Lercasi do that?”
“I offered him a carrot,” Iandolli said. “The DEA and Cuccia.”
“I don’t get it,” Charlie said.
“It has to do with mob protocol and leverage Lercasi might exert on his own behalf when the shit hits the fan,” Iandolli said. “And it will, the shit will hit the fan, sooner or later. The kind of action this town has seen the past few nights is off-putting to the average Joe, but it’s deadly to the casinos. If Lercasi can wave a deal Cuccia made with the DEA under New York’s nose, it’s a major coup for him. He’ll be owed on a pretty grand scale.”
Charlie shook his head. “I still don’t trust the guy,” he said. “What’ll he do, turn Beau Curitan over if he finds him?”
Iandolli winked at Charlie. “Beau wishes,” he said.
Charlie was still confused. “What?”
“Let’s put it this way: Beau probably won’t be going home for the holidays.”
“That wouldn’t upset me.”
“Me either. Then hopefully Lercasi calls New York and gets you a pass while he’s spilling his guts on Cuccia.”
Charlie wasn’t in the mood to hear about the virtues of wiseguys then. “A pass means I get to live?” he asked.
“Lercasi has the clout.”
“And what would happen to Cuccia? Isn’t that a little dangerous for your career, what you told this guy?”