The man who’d knocked him down put his foot in the middle of Cosmo’s back. “You’ve met Red Russell, old man. I heard you was tough, but now look at you down there, in all that slop and all.” Red slapped his own knees in uncontrolled derision. “You know, that’s the way we used to feed them hogs back home,” Russell whined from the top of his voice, like a TV sports announcer might call an exciting play.
Brows was standing behind Russell waiting for some sort of signal from Cosmo. He deflated when Cosmo shook his head, the corners of Brows’s mouth turning down in a pout. As Red walked away, he looked down at Cosmo again and said, “You have a Red Russell day now, ya heah!”
The hush in the room left no doubt that every man there saw Red’s power play. A new man had made his move and right then he looked pretty strong. It had all happened in a matter of seconds and the first guard didn’t arrive until Cosmo was back on his feet. Then two-dozen more in full riot gear stormed in and locked down the place.
“Banana peel,” Cosmo grunted, waving a hand at the mess on the floor when the first guard got to him.
“Don’t give me that, Terracina, I know what happened.”
“Clumsy in my old age.” He knew the guard didn’t believe that, but that made no difference to Cosmo. After a few minutes the guards backed off but every eye in the room was on Cosmo. A low murmur replaced the hush that occupied the room minutes earlier.
Harvey Joplan, still wondering why the hell they suddenly transferred him here with only days until his release, sat in the seat across from Cosmo and watched this Red Russell thug make his move. Joplan was no stranger to peril but realized he was in a world that had its own hazards.
Red Russell couldn’t manage a straight face as he walked out of the chow hall. The feds had transferred him to Atlanta from the federal prison in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, so they could break up a gang he’d organized back there. They didn’t say that was the reason, of course, but he knew. And he loved it. He would soon be in no less of a power position in Atlanta than he was in Lewisburg, and the drug dealers he controlled in Chicago would keep on making him money. Not a month in the Big A and he had made his move. The legendary Cosmo Terracina was laughing stock now and would have trouble maintaining respect among his own men, not to mention the general population there.
Red couldn’t wait to see Rudy. Rudy Snow had warned him against going after Cosmo. “He ain’t easy, that Cosmo, he dangerous as a snake with two heads, man.” But that made Cosmo an even more appealing target to Red. If today’s little introduction didn’t work, force would. Cosmo could stay alive if he was smart but if he resisted, well, Red would be as happy to do it the hard way. Besides, killing Cosmo Terracina would make the others fear Red more. Fear. That was control.
In the yard later, Rudy smiled. “You looked good, man, real good. Everybody seen what you done. But sleep with your eyes open. Ain’t over ’til it’s over. Cosmo, he’s mafia, man.”
“He’s finished, that old bastard. I’ve dealt with them mafias before. They don’t wanna die no more’n anybody else does.”
Later that day in the yard Cosmo described his plan to Doyle Riley in the fewest words possible. Riley had been in on Cosmo’s planning of hundreds of operations in Boston and there in Atlanta, and their simplicity always surprised him. This one had the interesting potential to fix two problems. It could settle the matter with Red Russell, and with a little luck it might fill LaRez’s order regarding Joplan at the same time. Riley liked the plan and went off to find Joplan at the next yard time.
“Cosmo Terracina invites you to join him for dinner tonight,” he said to Joplan.
Joplan was standing alone and continued staring at nothing. “Who’s Cosmo Terracina?” he said, showing no interest.
“You’ll get to know him. Has a proposition he thinks you’ll find interesting. He’ll be sitting with me, southeast corner of the chow hall,” Riley said.
Cosmo and Riley were seated when Joplan arrived. “This your man?” Joplan asked Riley, making no eye contact with either man.
“Meet Cosmo. Cosmo, Joplan.”
“Saw him at lunch,” Joplan said, with a smirk.
Neither Riley nor Cosmo showed any reaction.
“Look, you got any idea why you’re here? In the Big A, I mean?” Riley asked.
Joplan stared.
“The reason you’re here is because Cosmo’s here. They wanted you to meet him. Cosmo feels bad about that because otherwise you would be in some nice new place instead of this rat trap.”
“They?” Joplan seemed amused at this story.
“His friends, business associates on the outside. You know how it works.”
“So what is it they want?”
“This is where it gets a little sticky,” Riley said, leaning closer to Joplan and lowering his voice. “They want you to, like, cooperate with the feds.”
It was the first time Joplan showed any reaction at all. He shook his head as if to clear it. “Cooperate?” He looked at Cosmo, who didn’t bother to look up from the fries he was eating, and then at Riley.
Riley nodded. “Completely.”
Joplan’s eyes narrowed. “Now this is cozy. What are you two in for, bustin’ parking meters? I must be missing something. I’ll be on the street in a few days while the two of you go on rotting here.”
Riley nodded that he understood Joplan’s confusion. “It’s like this. My client here feels a debt of gratitude to this country. He has reason to believe you’ve betrayed it. Now although he has an appreciation for men who keep their secrets to themselves, he requests that you come clean. Tell the feds everything. In return, Cosmo will see that no harm comes to you while you’re here.”
Joplan almost laughed. “He’s going to protect me? From who? That Red Russell redneck that walked all over him today?”
Riley put his fork down. He spoke in the level tones he had used in the paneled conference rooms in Boston when bargaining with one or another government attorney over the fate of one of his mob clients. “It’s considerate of you to worry about my client, but you might be surprised to know that he and Mr. Russell think very much alike. Cosmo holds no grudge toward him at all. It’s the way things work. You know the old saying, survival of the fittest. Same rules here as he lived under on the outside, Mr. Joplan.”
Joplan stood up to leave.
Riley said, “My client understands a man likes to sleep on a proposal before making up his mind. He’ll wait until tomorrow morning for your decision.”
“He’ll be waiting when hell freezes over,” Joplan said. “Don’t come near me, either of you. You see me, you go another direction. My style is different than Russell’s, and more conclusive.”
As Joplan walked away, Cosmo looked at him for the first time, and then at Riley. “Give this Joplan the consolation prize,” he mumbled, as he dumped more ketchup on the fries.