“That’s a nice way to talk.” She hauled up the blanket and sheet
and covered herself. “Can’t you act like a human?”
Massino left the bedroom, slamming the door after him. He
hesitated for a moment, then going into his study he called Andy
Lucas. He waited a long minute before Andy’s voice came on the line.
“The money’s been snatched.” Massino told him. “Get over there
. . . get the boys,” and he hung up.
55
Going down to the garage, he got into the Rolls and began the
three mile haul across the City to his down town office.
As he pulled up outside the office block, he saw a prowl car and
Toni’s Lincoln parked by the kerb. Well, at least he was getting some
action, he thought as he rode up to the sixth floor in the elevator.
There were two cops standing around looking vague. They stiffened
to attention when they saw Massino. Both cops worked in Massino’s
district and were well looked after. They saluted as Massino stormed
into Andy’s office.
Benno was sitting on a chair, blood on his face, his eyes glazed.
Toni stood by the window. Ernie stood by the open safe.
“What happened?” Massino demanded, coming to rest before
Benno who made an effort to stand up but promptly sat down again.
“There was a fire, boss,” he mumbled and his hand went to his
head. “I opened up and there was a newspaper burning. While I was
putting it out, I got clubbed.”
“Who did it?” Massino barked.
“I dunno . . . didn’t see no one . . . just got clubbed.”
Massino went to the safe, looked inside, looked at the lock, then
went to the telephone. He dialled a number while Ernie, Toni, Benno
and the two cops watched him.
“I want Cullen,” he said when a woman’s sleepy voice answered.
“This is Massino.”
“Oh, Mr. Massino!” The woman’s voice came fully awake. “Jack is
out of town. He’s attending a conference in New York.”
Massino cursed and slammed down the receiver. He took out an
address book from his wallet, checked a number and dialled.
Assistant Police Commissioner Fred Zatski answered. He sounded
outraged to be woken at this hour. “Who the hell is this?”
“Massino. Listen, I want this goddamn town sewn up fast: road
blocks, the railroad station, the bus station and the airport. I’ve had a
$186,000 steal and the bastard will try to get out of town. Get
moving! Hear me! Seal the whole goddamn town!”
“Just who do you imagine you’re talking to?” Zatski bellowed.
“Alert headquarters! Don’t bother me! And listen, Massino, you may
imagine you’re someone in this town, but to me, you’re just a
bladder of wind,” and he hung up.
Massino’s face turned purple with rage. He yelled at the two
cops, “Get moving, you hunkheads! Get someone who can do
something here . . . hear me!”
As O’Brien, the older of the two, jumped to the telephone, Andy
Lucas came in. He had obviously come in a hurry. He was wearing a
jacket and trousers over his pyjamas.
He looked into the safe, then at the lock, then met Massino’s
enraged eyes.
“It’s an inside job,” he said. “He’ll try to run. He had a key.”
“You telling me?” Massino snarled. “Think I’m blind! Cullen’s out
of town and this bastard Zatski won’t play!”
O’Brien said, “Excuse me, Mr. Massino, Lieutenant Mulligan with
the squad is on his way.”
Massino looked around the room like an enraged bull hunting a
target.
“Where’s Johnny? I want my best man around me!”
“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Andy said. “He’s not at
home.”
“I want him here!” Massino pointed at Toni. “Don’t stand around
like a goddamn dummy . . . get Johnny!”
As Toni left the office, Andy said quietly, “We’d better talk, Mr.
Joe.”
Massino snorted. He nodded at Ernie.
“Get Benno to hospital,” and leaving the office he crossed the
passage, unlocked his office door and went in, followed by Andy.
He sat down at his desk and stared at Andy who sat on the
corner of the desk.
“We’re in trouble,” Andy said. “At midday we have to pay out or
there’ll be a riot. We’ve got to borrow the money, Mr. Joe, or we’re
sunk. If the newspapers get hold of this the numbers will come under
57
the limelight and Cullen will also be in trouble.”
“So?”
“Tanza is our only chance. It’ll cost, but we’ve got to go to him.”
Massino clenched his big fists but he knew Andy was talking
sense. The wail of a police siren sounded.
“You handle Mulligan,” he said. “Get the town sealed off. I’ll talk
to Tanza.”
“Whoever took the money is out of town by now,” Andy said,
“but we’ll go through the motions.” He went out, closing the door.
Massino pulled the telephone towards him, hesitated, then
dialled a number. As he did so, he looked at his desk clock. The time
now was 04.25.
Carlo Tanza was the head man of the Mafia cell in town. He was
just one of the many arms of the Mafia octopus: a man of power, to
whom Massino paid a weekly cut on his Numbers racket, his loan
shark service and his vice earnings.
Tanza answered the telephone himself. He, like Massino, had
come immediately awake, knowing no telephone bell would ring in
his big, opulent house at this hour unless there was an emergency
and Tanza’s needle-sharp brain was always geared to meet an
emergency.
He listened to what Massino had to say and produced a solution
without hesitation.
“Okay, Joe. Don’t worry about the money. By ten o’clock you’ll
have it for the pay-out. We’ll keep the press out of this.” A pause.
“It’ll cost you. Twenty-five per cent, but you’ve got to have it, so
you’ve got to pay for it.”
“Hey! Now wait!” Massino did sums in his head. This steal would
cost him $46,000 out of his own pocket! “You can’t screw me that
hard. I’ll pay fifteen.”
“Twenty-five,” Tanza said. “The money in your office at ten. You
couldn’t get it anywhere else. Now . . . who did it?”
“All I know it was an inside job,” Massino said. “It’s just
happened. I’ll find out who did it, you can bet your life on that! I’m
having the town sealed off, but the chances are the bastard’s out by
now.”
“As soon as you know, tell me,” Tanza said. “I’ll turn the
organization after him. Just let me know his name and we’ll find
him.”
“Yeah. It must be one of my punks. Well, thanks, Carlo. I knew I
could rely on you.” A pause, “How about twenty per cent?”
Tanza chuckled.
“You’re a tryer, Joe. I have to work by rule. If it was me I’d let you
have it for ten, but this will be New York money and it comes pricey,”
and he hung up.
Massino sat for a long moment, his face ugly with rage. Then,
shoving back his chair, he strode out into the passage and into
Andy’s office.
Lieutenant Mulligan, a fat, freckled-faced man was examining the
safe. Two other plain clothes detectives were fingerprinting. Benno
and Ernie had gone. Andy stood just inside the doorway, nibbling his
thumb nail.
“The road blocks are going up, Mr. Massino,” Mulligan said. “If
he hasn’t got away by now, he won’t get away.”
Knowing some thirty vital minutes had been wasted, Massino
glared at the detective and then spat on the floor.
Toni Capello had been told to find Johnny. As he got into his
Lincoln, he decided that the most likely place where Johnny would be
found was with his girl friend, Melanie.
Toni envied Johnny. This lush, well built girl was his idea of a
good lay. He thought it would be fun to batter on the door and get
Johnny out of bed. Who knows? The girl might even come to the
door herself.
He knew her name and where she lived. Once, he had spotted
Johnny and the girl leave a restaurant and because he had the hots
for her and nothing better to do, he had followed them back to
Melanie’s pad.
59
It took him only a few minutes to reach the street and he saw
Johnny’s car parked outside the apartment block. He grinned as he
pulled up behind the car.
So Johnny was up there with his whore, Toni thought as he
crossed the sidewalk. Man! Was he in for a shock!
He rode up in the elevator. Reaching Melanie’s front door, he
dug his fingers into the bell push and kept it there.
There was a long delay, then the door jerked open. Melanie,
holding a cotton wrap around her, stared at him, terror in her eyes.
“What is it?” she demanded, her voice strident. What goes on?
Toni wondered. This chick’s flipping her lid.
“I want Johnny . . . get him out of bed! The boss wants him
pronto.”
“He’s not here!” Melanie began to shut the door, but Toni’s foot
came forward, blocking it.
“He is here, baby. Don’t fool around. His car’s outside. He’s
wanted.” Then raising his voice, he yelled, “Hey, Johnny! The boss
wants you!”
“I tell you he’s not here!” Melanie cried. “Get out! He’s not
here!”
“Is that right?” Toni moved forward, pushing her back. “Then
where is he?”
“I don’t know!”
“His car’s outside.”
“I tell you I don’t know!” She waved imploring hands to the door.
“Go away . . . get out!”
Suspicion lit a spark in Toni’s mind. Why was she so frightened?
Why was Johnny’s car outside if he wasn’t here?
Shoving her aside, he went into the bedroom and turned on the
light. He looked around, then saw Johnny’s tie on the floor.
“He’s been here,” he said as Melanie, shaking, came to the
bedroom door. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know anything! Get out!”
Jesus! Toni thought, it couldn’t have been Johnny? Not Johnny!
He caught hold of her wrist, swung her around and flung her down
on the bed. He bent over her.
“Talk, baby, or I’ll soften you. Where’s he gone?”
Shuddering, Melanie tried to sit up. Toni placed his hand over her
face and flung her back, then he repeated, “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Melanie sobbed.
He slapped her twice, jerking her head from side to side.
“Where is he?” he yelled at her. “Come on, baby, spill it!”
She lay stunned by the force of the slaps.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, trying to shield her face. “I don’t
know anything!”
Toni hesitated. He was almost sure she was lying, but to knock
Johnny Bianda’s girl about could be asking for real trouble if he was
making a mistake.
If Johnny suddenly walked in and caught him with this chick,
Johnny would kill him. Toni had no doubt about that.
“Get your clothes on,” he said. “You and me are going for a ride.
Come on!”
“I won’t go with you! Get out!” Melanie screamed. Then sliding
down the bed away from him, she was on her feet and out into the
sitting-room before be could stop her.
Cursing, Toni rushed after her, caught her at the front door and
dragged her back into the bedroom. He pulled his gun and shoved
the barrel into her chest.
“Get dressed!” he snarled.
She looked with horror at the gun, then he had no more trouble
with her.
Twenty minutes later, he led her into Massino’s office.
“Something stinks here, boss,” he said as Massino glared first at
him and then at Melanie. “Maybe you can talk to her.” He went on to
tell Massino about Johnny’s car, about Melanie’s terror and no
61
Johnny.
“What are you trying to tell me?” Massino snarled. “You telling
me Johnny took the money?”
“I’m telling you nothing. She’ll tell you.”
Massino turned his bloodshot, enraged eyes on Melanie who
shrivelled under his glare.
“Where’s Johnny?”
She began to sob helplessly.
“I don’t know. He went out on a job . . . that’s what he called it.
Don’t touch me! He told me I was to be his alibi. He lost his medal . .
.”
Massino drew a long slow breath.
“Sit down,” he said. “Here, Toni, give her a chair.” Then he began
to question Melanie who talked, terrified by the staring bloodshot
eyes and the fat, stone-hard face.
“Okay,” Massino said finally. “Take her home, Toni,” and getting
up he went into Andy’s office where Lieutenant Mulligan was about
to leave. Massino drew him aside. “I want you to pick up Johnny
Bianda,” he said. “Turn every goddamn cop you’ve got on the job.
Keep it quiet . . . understand?”
Mulligan gaped at him.
“Bianda? You think he’s behind this?”
Massino grinned like a wolf.
“I don’t know, but if you can’t find him in four or five hours, he
could be. Drop everything . . . get after Bianda!”
At 10.00, Carlo Tanza arrived in a Cadillac with three bodyguards.
With a wide, oily smile he watched them dump two heavy suitcases
on Massino’s desk.
Tanza was a short, stocky Italian with a balding head, a big
paunch, tiny, evil eyes and lips like red wine.
He shook hands with Massino, waved his men out of the office,
nodded to Andy who stayed to count the money, then sat down.
“There’s the money, Joe,” he said. “You ask, you get. How’s that
for service?”
Massino nodded.
“Thanks.”
“The boss talked to me on the phone,” Tanza said.
“He wasn’t pleased. If you want to hold on to your Numbers, Joe,
you have got to wake up your ideas. This safe . . .”
“I’m getting a new one.”
“I guessed you would. Now, who took the money?”
“Nothing certain yet,” Massino said, “but it points to Johnny
Bianda. H
e’s gone missing.”
“Bianda?” Tanza looked startled. “I got the idea he was your best
man.”
“Yeah.” Massino’s face turned red and his little eyes glittered,
“but it points to him,” and he went on to tell Tanza about Melanie,
the alibi and the fact Johnny’s car was still parked outside Melanie’s
pad.
“You’re sure the girl knows nothing?”
“I’m sure. I scared the crap out of the bitch.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Massino closed his big hands into fists.
“If he’s skipped town, I want the organization to go after him. If
he’s still in town, I’ll find him.”
“He can buy himself a lot of protection with all that dough,”
Tanza said thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll tell the Big Man. So you want us to
find him . . . right?”
“If he’s not holed up here . . . yes.”
“I don’t want to start something too soon, Joe. Once the
organization gets moving its hard to stop and it costs. Suppose you
make certain he isn’t in town, then give me the green light, huh?”
“If he’s skipped, the longer you wait the further he’ll go.”
63
Tanza grinned evilly.
“It don’t matter how far he goes . . . if he goes to China, we’ll find
him. We’ve never failed yet. You make sure first he isn’t in town,
then we’ll take over.”
He got to his feet. “I’m only trying to save you money, Joe. We
don’t work for nothing.”
When Tanza had gone, Massino called Toni and Ernie into the
office.
“Go to Johnny’s place and search it.” he ordered. “I want every
scrap of information, every scrap of paper you can find there. I want
you to send out some of the boys to ask around. I want to know who
his friends are.
When they had left, Massino called Lieutenant Mulligan.
“Anything new?” he asked when the Lieutenant came on the
line.
“It’s my bet he’s skipped town,” Mulligan said. “There’s no trace
of him. I’ve dug up his record, his prison photo and his finger prints.
Would they be of any use to you?”
“Yeah. I want everything you’ve got on him.”
“I’ll send a man over with the photostats right away, Mr.
Massino.”
“Would you know if he has any relatives?”
“Doesn’t seem to from his record. His father died five years ago.”
“Anything on him?”
“An Italian: worked in a fruit cannery in Tampa. Johnny was born
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