Mutt didn't come out: a doctor did. A rather distinguished-looking man in his late fifties or early sixties, short, medium build with a paunch, gray-haired with a gray mustache. He had a near-frown on his face when our eyes met; he didn't approve of my being here, I could tell already. In fact I could tell he didn't approve of me, period
"I consider this ill-advised," he said, as if my being here was my idea. I told him it wasn't.
"Frank being here is your idea, though, isn't it?" he snapped, in a whisper.
"Actually, no." I said. "I got pulled into this by the short hair."
"You're the one who killed the boy."
I nodded.
He sighed. "My son-in-law insists on seeing you."
"You're Dr. Ronga?"
"That's right." He didn't offer a hand to shake; I thought it best not to offer mine. "I wouldn't have agreed to this at all if I couldn't see that Frank might get agitated if we refused him. and he does not need to get agitated right now."
"He is going to live?"
"No thanks to you people, I would say he is. I would say he's got as much chance to live as you do to drive back across town safely."
I glanced sideways at Jeff. "That could depend on who's driving, Doc."
Ronga said, "Frank needs rest and quiet. Absence of worry and shock." He pointed a finger at me.
"Which might open the wounds and cause a hemorrhage- if that happens it could'prove fatal."
"Doctor, I have no intention of agitating Mr. Nitti. I promise. Whether or not Mr. Nitti has any intention of agitating me is another story."
Ronga gave out a terse, humorless laugh and held out an open, yet somehow contemptuous, hand in a gesture that said. Go on in.
I went in.
Nitti was sitting up in bed; his reading lamp was on, otherwise the room was dark. He wasn't hooked up to tubes or anything, but he didn't look well; he was even paler than usual and seemed to have lost about fifteen pounds since I saw him last- yesterday. He gave me a little smile; it was so little his mouth curved but his mustache didn't.
"'Cusa me if I don't get up," he said. His voice was soft, but there was no tremor in it.
"It's okay, Mr. Nitti."
"Make it 'Frank.' W^e're going to be friends, Heller."
I shrugged. "Then make it "Nate.'"
"Nate.
Mutt was standing on the other side of Nitti's bed; he came around to me before I could approach Nitti's bedside, and said, in an almost gentle way, "You're going to have to let me have your gun."
"This isn't a great place for a scene, pal."
"There's six of us here, Heller, me and five guys out in the hall, plus I think Dr. Ronga would be willin' to take your appendix out with a pocketknife."
I gave him the gun.
Nitti made a little gesture that meant I was to sit down in the chair that had been provided for me next to his bed.
I sat. Seeing him up close, he didn't look any worse. He was bandaged around the throat, from the slug he took in the neck, and he didn't seem to be able to move his head, so my chair was seated at an angle where he didn't have to.
"You didn't know, did you?" Nitti said.
"I didn't know," I said, and I told him how Miller and Lang had picked me up at that speak and brought me along for the ride, without telling me the score.
"Bastards," he said. His mouth was a line. He looked at me; his eyes were calm. "I'm told you quit the department."
"That's right." I said. "I've had it with those sons of bitches."
"You were the one that got an ambulance called. Those bastards woulda let me bleed awhile."
"I suppose."
"Since you quit, that means what? What are you gonna say at my trial? They'll try me for shooting that prick bastard Lang, you know."
"I know."
"You read that load of baloney in the papers that Miller's giving out? Is that the story they're going with?"
"More or less, I guess."
"You going along with it?"
"I'm going to have to. Frank."
Nitti didn't say anything; he looked straight ahead, at the wall, not at me.
"Cermak had me in for a talk," I said.
Nitti turned his head to look right at me; it had to be painful- he moved like the Man in the Iron Mask. His teeth were together when he said. "Cermak."
"I'm opening up a little private agency. Cop is the only trade I got. Cermak'll block my license if I don't play ball."
Nitti turned his head back and looked toward the wall again. "Cermak," he said again.
"And I killed a guy up there. Frank."
Nitti's mouth twitched in a one-sided smirk. "Nobody important."
"Not to you. maybe. I didn't like doing it. And since I'm the only copper up there who managed to kill somebody. I'm the one to take the fall if the stories don't jibe."
Nitti didn't say anything.
"If you have any other ideas, I'm open," I said.
Nitti said. "I don't suppose you'd want something with my outfit."
I shook my head no. "It'd be no different than the cops. It's something I want out of altogether. Thank you, though, Frank."
Nitti's eyes looked at me. They were amused. "You're a pal of Ness', aren't you?"
"Yeah." I said, smiling a little, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "But I ain't no Boy Scout."
"I know," Nitti said. "I remember the Lingle case."
A voice behind me said. "Frank. Please." It was Dr. Ronga.
"Un momento, Papa"Nitti said.
Ronga shook his head, shut the door, and Nitti and I- and Mutt, who was seated over in the corner- were alone again.
"I want you to know." Nitti said, "that I hold you no grudge. I understand your position. No reprisals will be taken against you. At this time. I don't even think reprisals will be taken against Lang and Miller. The bastards. They are not worth the trouble. As Al used to say, 'Don't stir up the heat.'"
I smiled a little. "Did he say that before or after Saint Valentine's Day?"
Nitti smiled a little, too. "After kid. After."
"I better be going. You get some rest. If you want to see me again, just call. You don't need to send anybody forme."
"Good. But stay a few moments. There are some things you need to know."
"Oh?"
"You know Cermak was ours, don't you? Al helped get him in, you know."
I nodded. Cermak's association with the Capone gang went back at least as far as when Tony was "mayor of Cook County," and let Cicero happen.
"But now this fair is coming in. This world's fair. And there's gonna be a lot of money to be made. People coming from all over. Hicks and high-hats and everybody between. And they're gonna want things. They're gonna need things. And somebody's gonna provide things. Whores. Gambling. Beer- on the fairgrounds if it's legal by then, in the speaks if not. Either way, it'll be our beer they're drinkin'. Lot of money to be made. I ain't telling you nothing you don't already know.
"But the bankers and the other swells, they know Chicago's got a bad rep. In fact, this fair they're throwing is supposed to bring people back here, to see what a great place this is, safe, wonderful, and all. So how can somebody like Ten Percent Tony clean the city up and still give the people what they want- like whores and gambling and booze- and keep his pockets nice and full, too? By putting the screws to us, the old Capone mob. The feds got a lot of mileage out of sending Al up. Your pal Ness got lots of press, 'Eliot Press' we call him, the fed who announces his next raid in the papers." He laughed, and flinched just a bit.
I said, "So Cermak's connecting with the smaller mobs, then. Roger Touhy. Ted Newberry. Small fry he can control, manipulate."
Nitti looked at me so hard it about knocked me over. "And throw us to the goddamn wolves. The people who made the son of a bitch."
"You're probably right. Frank. But what does it have to do with me?"
Nitti smiled. "I just thought you'd like to know that Ted Newberry put up fifteen thousand dollars for anybody who'd bump me off."