by Bill Sage
“Al, there was no other way for you. That was the right sentence.”
“Uh-huh,” Roth said. Now he knew Ward didn’t know anything. He was just scrounging around for potential support and connections. If Hamilton never showed up, Roth might help him find a job.
“You know, I never felt comfortable putting pressure on you, and I want to apologize for that,” Ward said, searching Roth’s eyes to see if he could spot any indication what he was thinking. “It was all Hamilton. He was the guy pushing it. He wanted me to threaten you, but you got to believe I didn’t want to do it.”
“That’s easy to say now. Hamilton’s not around anymore.”
“It would’ve meant my job. He even wanted me to give the impression that Linda wouldn’t get the equipment contract to put pressure on you. But I put a stop to that.”
“Oh, so you’re taking credit for backing off that threat?”
There was silence for a few seconds.
“Al, I had to do it,” Ward said, a little nervous. “I have a family.”
“Don’t give me your victim shit.” Roth was tired of talking to him.
“I wanna start over with you.”
“Steve, you’re a phony, piece of shit. You’ll lie, say anything you think will help you. No moral strength.”
“No, you got me all wrong, Al.”
“Okay, Steve, I have to get back to work.”
Ward stood up and came closer to Roth on the side of the desk, sticking his hand out for a shake. But Roth didn’t want to shake his hand, didn’t even look at him.
Ward turned and slowly walked out.
Sitting in his empty chambers, Roth was thinking Ward didn’t know how lucky he was.
56
WHEN CLAUDIO HEARD MANGANO had gotten out of jail, he called for a big party. He put together a huge gathering at Albano Ristorante in Los Angeles. The mob rented the whole restaurant for the night; it was closed to regular customers.
All the mobsters from Mangano's crew were there, and so was Arnold Goldman. Jake Gertner hadn't arrived yet.
Platters of food were everywhere. Waiters passed out glasses of Champagne and shots of Sambuca. Mr. Albano greeted people as they entered and was making sure everything went well.
Mangano’s crew members were happy to celebrate the good news about the mistrial. Nick Mangano escaped justice and was out of jail. It was true, you could get away with murder.
Only one guy in the crew knew Mangano had worked out a deal with DEA to snitch them off and go into the witness protection program. And although he was aware a hit had been ordered on Mangano, he didn’t know who’d been given the contract.
Mangano was half smashed when he arrived. As he walked through the room, his crew members patted him on the back, congratulating him. One wiseguy, Sal, a short, chunky guy with curly grey hair, raised his glass as he looked at Mangano. “Here's to you, Nick.”
The others joined in the toast.
It was common knowledge that Mangano had done the hit on Palermo, and they’d all heard how it went down in the parking lot.
Sal held his hand up to silence the small group gathered around Mangano. When it was quiet, he said, “Hey, Nick.” He laughed and glanced at the guys standing there. “Next time,” he said, breaking out laughing again, “when you whack a guy in a parking lot, shoot into the fuckin’ cars too.”
That brought a big round of laughter.
Mangano thought it was funny too. He had his own words of wisdom. “Yeah,” he said with a big grin, “and next time I'll be sure to bring a mandolin so I can serenade any lovers that may be humping in their cars.”
More general laughter.
In another part of the restaurant, mobsters were congratulating Arnold Goldman for the “great fucking job” he’d done getting Mangano off. They were shaking Goldman’s hand and patting him on the back.
Goldman had gotten a stay from the appeals court on doing his thirty days in jail. Whether he’d ever have to do the time was in their hands.
Jake Gertner arrived about an hour after Mangano. Before entering the restaurant, he stopped to have a brief conversation with Ben Selik. They talked in a service alley a half block away from the restaurant. Ben was sitting on his motorcycle and had it parked in a way that gave him a clear view of the entrance.
That’s what Jake wanted. He and Claudio had spent a week scouting out different restaurants, mainly on Sunset Boulevard, near downtown. They were looking for one that had an alley or driveway close to the restaurant where Ben could wait and stake out the restaurant’s door.
Albano’s was the best location.
“It’s all set. Use this,” Jake said as he handed Ben something.
Ben nodded, saying, “It’s a done deal.”
Jake jabbed Ben’s arm and walked over to the restaurant. Passed through the small area in the front and went to the bar. Sat on a stool and ordered the best single malt Scotch they had.
After downing his first Scotch, he ordered another. Then he struck up a conversation with a mobster sitting next to him. The guy was polite, but not very talkative. That was okay with Jake, he didn’t want to talk too much either.
When Jake spotted Goldman talking to a wiseguy in the room connected to the bar, he couldn’t resist getting in his face. He downed his drink and went over to have a little fun.
“Good work, Arnie,” Jake said, breaking in on a conversation was having with a wiseguy. “Think you're pretty hot shit, don't you?”
“Yeah, I kicked their asses,” Goldman said, looking up at Jake with a dopey grin. Then he stepped back, trying to peer around Jake’s shoulders into the bar.
“I’ll leave you guys alone,” the Mafioso said.
Jake knew Goldman was trying to look around him, so he moved in closer, blocking his view. “Your face is healing really nice.”
Goldman gave him a tentative smile.
After staring at Goldman for a few seconds, Jake clenched his jaw and got into Goldman’s face. “You know, you almost fucked up everything with your whiny shit about not wanting to stand by Mangano.”
“It was a mistake. I never should have done that. I wouldn’t have left the case anyway. You gotta know that.”
Jake laughed in his face. “You know, there’s no doubt about it, you're a fuckin’ asshole. You really feel good about ridiculing people in court, don’t you?” A short pause. “They’re not as smart as you. Is that it?”
“You got me all wrong, Jake.”
“No, fat fuck, I’m not wrong about anything.”
Goldman backed up a few steps. Didn’t say a word.
Jake stepped in even closer. “You were gonna ditch Mangano and now you’re prancing around like you’re the greatest fuckin’ lawyer in the world. You’re shit.”
Goldman smiled. “You’re right. It was…was wrong to do that.” He paused, quickly scanning to see if anyone was close by. “Jake, I don’t want any trouble.” He swallowed hard. “You look good. So what’s going on?”
Jake didn’t want to lower himself to respond to Goldman’s feckless squirming. He turned around, preparing to return to the bar. Just wanted to get away from him. But after taking one step, he abruptly changed his mind, stopped and swung back around to face Goldman again.
“I’m sorry, Arnie, I forgot to say goodbye.” He paused then smiled. “Be good pal,” he said as he gave him a “friendly” poke in the chest.
Goldman fell back a half-step, avoiding any eye contact.
Jake wanted to deck him, but this wasn’t his time. That would have to come later. The way Jake saw it, Goldman knew too much and Jake worried about what could happen if he ever figured out Al was the guy pulling the strings. Jake had to make sure that didn’t happen. He kept it to himself, though, never mentioning it to Al.
Whenever he returned to Los Angeles, it’d be one of the things on his “to do” list.
Jake turned around and walked back into the bar.
57
MEANWHILE, NICK MANGANO had gotten
well plastered.
Claudio approached him and said he’d better think about going home. Since Jake told Claudio they had to make sure that Mangano drove his own car, Claudio used a little reverse psychology.
“Nick, I know you don’t want to fuck up your new Cadillac. Leave it here. I’ll get one of the guys to drive you home. You can come back, get it in the morning.”
Mangano smiled and put his arm around Claudio’s shoulders. “I’m not leaving my car here,” he said with a touch of anger. “You know that. It goes with me.”
“Whatever you wanna do, my friend,” Claudio said, smiling. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Don’t worry, I can, I can drive. Was thinking about leaving now anyway.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” Claudio paused then said, “I can still get someone if you don’t feel up to it.”
“No one’s driving my fucking car. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” Then Mangano said goodbye to Claudio and the wiseguys standing nearby and went into the bar.
He came over to the wiseguy sitting next to Jake. Spoke a few words, laughed, then said goodbye. After shaking hands, the wiseguy said, “Nick, this is… What you say your last name was?” he asked Jake.
“Gertner.”
“Jake Gertner, a friend of mine.”
From the way he introduced Jake, Mangano knew Jake wasn’t a made Mafia member. “Yeah, how ya doing?” Mangano said with a smug look, barely glancing at Jake.
“I’m fine,” Jake said. “But let me tell ya, we were all glad when we heard you finally got out on bail. Should’ve been that way from the beginning.”
Mangano nodded once, grunting something and turned to leave, almost tripping over Jake’s stool.
Jake held out his arm to stop him. “Nick, how does it feel to finally be out of jail? It must have been like hell in there, all the fuckin’ homos and cops.” Jake felt like needling him before he left.
“What the fuck you think?” Mangano answered in an angry manner. Then he turned to the wiseguy sitting next to Jake. “What’s with this fuckin’ guy?”
Before he could answer, Jake stood up, towering over Mangano, sticking his hand out for a shake. “Nice to know ya, Nick.”
After reluctantly shaking Jake’s hand, Mangano said goodbye to other guys standing nearby and walked out of the bar.
Jake sat down, watching Mangano head toward the front. In a few minutes, Nick Mangano would be getting into his Cadillac and driving home.
Jake smiled, raised his glass, and took a long swallow. Now he knew he wouldn't die, his nightmare soon coming to an end. He’d return to Detroit, get back with Izzy and his other partners and start making money again.
He looked toward the front again and spotted Claudio staring outside through the door’s window. Then as Jake was trying to see through the window himself, he saw Claudio slowly turn and look back into the bar. When Jake caught his glance, Claudio gave him a quick nod before turning to focus back on the door.
Jake downed his Scotch. Stood up, tossed a $20 bill on the bar next to his empty glass. “Gotta get going.”
Making his way to the front, Jake’s mind wasn’t on where he was or what he was doing. He was looking ahead, thinking of spending time with Al and Linda, then going home and seeing his dad and getting things back in shape in Detroit.
As he got near the hostess station, he pulled the cigar he’d been saving for this moment out of his inside suit coat pocket. Removed the wrapper and stuck it in his mouth.
He’d bought it in Detroit for good luck.
When he worked himself around two guys talking to the young hostess, the door suddenly swung open. Jake froze, narrowed his eyes as he stared at the guy walking in.
It was Mangano!
“I thought you were leaving,” Jake grumbled.
He brushed past Jake and went straight over to a surprised Claudio. “Maybe you’re…you could be right. Somebody should drive me home. But in my car. I don’t want to leave it here.”
“What are you saying? Don’t think you can make it?”
“Don’t want to take the chance.”
“Yeah, but you seem okay to me. You can make it. I don’t know what you’re saying that.”
“If I get stopped, I’ll be facing jail time. Got too many priors. Maybe Sal, maybe he could drive me home.”
Claudio quickly turned and looked over at Jake, who was standing close by. “Hey, Jake, come over here.”
Jake came over, cigar still stuck in his mouth. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Nick needs a ride home. Use his car and take a taxi back here.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t know this guy from shit,” Mangano said.
“He’s a friend of mine, but he works with us.”
“I don’t give a shit, I want Sal. It’s my car. I feel better, better with him.”
Claudio said, “Whaddaya talking about. He’s more fuckin’ drunk than you are. He'll fuck up your car. You can’t let him drive it.”
“I just saw him. He’s nowhere near drunk,” Mangano came back at him.
“Listen to me. You’re not thinking right. It’s just driving. Why bother him? Let’s use Jake for that.”
Mangano looked up at Jake. “You ever drive a Cadillac?”
Jake flashed him an annoyed expression.
Claudio glared at Jake.
“Yeah, I got one at home. That’s all I drive,” Jake said. But that wasn’t true, he liked Lincolns.
“You guys better get going,” Claudio said, gently nudging Mangano’s arm in the direction of the door.
Mangano stood firm, looked at Claudio, then back at Jake. “You better not fuck up my car.”
Jake made a face, but kept still.
“Guys, stop the bullshit. Come on, get going,” Claudio again.
As Jake and Mangano stepped outside, Jake glanced over at the alley where Ben was waiting. Jake couldn’t see him, but knew he was there.
They went to Mangano’s Cadillac parked at the curb, blocking a driveway. Jake sat behind the wheel, taking in the new car smell. He adjusted the seat and mirror and carefully pulled away from the curb.
“Be fuckin’ careful with it,” Mangano muttered.
Jake drove slowly down Sunset Boulevard to about a half block away from the Albano’s. Then without saying a word, he abruptly pulled to the curb in a red zone.
“Hey, what the fuck you doing?” Mangano said.
“I forgot my fuckin’ wallet, left it on the bar. Be right back.” Jake removed the keys and got out of the car.
“I’m not sitting in this car,” Mangano said as he reached for door handle.
“Nick, what the fuck you doing. It’s in a red zone. Stay in there, I’ll be right back.”
“I knew this was a mistake,” Mangano mumbled.
“Stop acting like an asshole. Stay in the fuckin’ car.”
“Hurry the fuck up. This is bullshit.”
Jake walked in the street back toward the restaurant. At the same time, Ben started his motorcycle and slowly rode from the alley and parked behind a car on the other side of the street. When Jake came alongside him, he gave Ben a quick glance, then turned to his left and headed toward the sidewalk.
He walked to the restaurant, went inside and brushed past Claudio, not even looking at him. Made his way to the bar.
All the stools were taken, so Jake stood at the end of the bar near the cash register. A minute or two later a loud explosion blasted, followed by sounds of breaking glass.
No one knew what had happened, except Jake and Claudio. When Claudio heard the explosion, he turned to look into the bar. Jake saw him turning around, but they never made eye contact, too many guys standing around Jake.
A few seconds later, a guy in Claudio’s crew came running into the restaurant. “It's Mangano. Someone blew up his car. The whole fuckin’ thing's on fire out in the street.”
Several men rushed outside to see what had happened.<
br />
Jake smiled to himself, he knew what had happened. After he’d parked Mangano’s car at the curb and returned to the restaurant, Ben waited three minutes, then he pressed the button on the small detonator Jake had given him. The car exploded and was now on fire.
Jake walked to the front again and out the door. When he went outside, a guy wearing a maroon sport coat came out at the same time. They stood on the curb, gawking at Mangano’s Cadillac.
“What the fuck! What happened?” the maroon sport coat man asked one of the guys already standing there.
“Don’t know,” that guy said, looking around.
The other guy said, “A big fuckin’ explosion. Mangano’s Cadillac. Bunch of guys are over there seeing what they can do. Maybe something…”
Looking at the burning car with the others, Jake said, “Who the fuck would want to do that to Nick?”
“Yeah, and just after getting out of jail,” the maroon sport coat guy said.
“Maybe his wife found out about Nicole,” Jake again. No one seemed to know what he was talking about. That was just Jake having a little fun, Nicole was a woman he knew in Detroit.
“Here they come,” one of the men on the curb yelled out.
Jake heard the sirens too. He went to the curb and looked down the street, pretending he gave a shit. Then he turned and went back into the restaurant to make a phone call.
When Jake passed Claudio, Claudio reached out and grabbed Jake’s arm. “Now we can get our $500,000 back,” Claudio said, smiling.
Jake thought that was funny, something Al would say. He looked at Claudio and laughed. “Yeah, what the fuck, money’s money.”
But Jake didn’t stop, kept heading to the phone.
It was on the back wall, off the bar, near the restrooms. As Jake came closer, he saw a guy was already using the phone, talking loudly and angrily shaking his head. “I don’t give a shit,” he was yelling into the mouthpiece.
Jake rapped his knuckles on the phonebook sitting next to the guy on the phone. The man swung around and stared at Jake. But before he could say anything, Jake took the cigar out of his mouth, pointed at the phone and mouthed the words, "Hang up."
“Relax, pal,” the man said and continued talking.
