“I’ll pass the pictures around the table one at a time; each of you look and see if you recognize the man in it. If you do, call him out and write his name on the back of the picture. When they come back to me I’ll separate them into two groups, known and unknown enemies.” Clay continued “And make no mistake about this, they have chosen to be enemies to all of us. They joined in with a group out to break us and kill as many of us as is required to take over our territory. This is a war and you’re either with us, or with them. Make up your mind now, because you will most likely know some of these people. Some may be men you worked with in the past; some may even be neighbors or relatives. Also be aware you may run into one of these people, or be contacted by one of them trying to get information about what we’re doing.”
Clay began slowly passing the pictures to the man on his right, while watching the faces before him for a signal one of them might attempt to conceal a painful recognition. On the second picture Vincent, who was next to him, said aloud, “Shit, look at this, it's Ronnie Weiss, the dumb bastard. I thought he was smarter than this.”
After nearly half of the thirty seven pictures had been passed around, and twelve had been identified, the man on Joey’s right threw down a picture and said “Christ Joey, this is my nephew, Jerry Martino. You know him and didn’t call him out. What? You settin me up to see if I’d let him pass? Fuck you Joey. Fuck you. He’s called out, alright!” The man turned the picture over and wrote his nephew’s name on the back of it. “All I ask of both of you” he looked up at Joey and then at Clay “is for someone else to do him, and it’s done quick and clean. He’s a smart ass little punk with a big mouth, but he’s still my sister’s kid.”
“I’m sorry Al,” Joey said to the man “but I had to know if you could handle it and not go and warn the kid. I’m real sorry it turned out this way. To make it up to you I’ll do the kid; and it will be clean. The kid won’t know what hit him”
The men finished looking at the pictures, and had identified twenty three of the thirty seven. All were somber about having marked these people for death, but they also knew, as did the men identified, what the rules were. Clay pulled a fifth of whiskey from the sideboard and they all had several drinks before they left to go back downstairs.
In Thursday’s Tribune Joey was reading the obituary column when he recognized a name from the just completed target list. He went into Clay’s office to show him.
“Look at this. These three guys are the ones who were watching the hospital on the day Tony was moved. Apparently Ivanoff Toscovich doesn’t tolerate screw ups. The three we got last week and these three make six we don’t have to look for.”
Clay and Joey met daily while continuing to review the details of the plan Clay had created. Joey offered good practical suggestions and the two of them felt they would be ready on Saturday. Joey handled the arrangements for exterminating the gangs other soldiers who had been identified through observations both by his men and through the photographs. Clay would give final approval on Joey’s plan because these would need to be done quietly over a period of several weeks. Their opponents would simply disappear, as opposed to the fate of the Russian leader, his wife, close associates and body guards. The deaths of the fourteen of them were sure to make national news. Additional execution style murders drawing attention to the City of Chicago would not be acceptable. The only reason one attack in public would be tolerated by the other boss’s was because if an attempt to dispose of the Russian leader quietly failed, there would be an all out gang war reminiscent of the 1920s and 1930s.
Friday morning Clay, Joey and seven of the men Joey had picked for the assignment, met at the farm to get familiar with their weapons. As Clay had requested there were seven M-14 military rifles and two cases of ammunition. Several of the selected men had served in the military and were familiar with the rifles.
The diesel bulldozer and a diesel truck were taken to the woods in the bottom acreage and put on fast idle to cover some of the shooting noise. One at a time the men loaded their weapons and emptied the thirty round clips at targets at the approximate distance and elevation anticipated on Saturday evening. Clay examined his weapons of choice and made sure they were ready to use when the time came.
The men watching the Toscovich warehouse reported no change in routines during the week, except for a minimum of three men riding in every car leaving and entering the warehouse.
As ordered, Saturday morning at seven o’clock all the men who had been picked for the assassination reported to the empty store. The building had been cleaned and furniture had been moved into it for them to use. Couches, chairs and tables, and beds had been arranged in rooms on both floors. At eight o’clock in the evening all of it would be moved back to the warehouse it had been stored in, and the owners would be none the wiser. Clay wanted to make sure no one drank too much, or out of nervousness said something to someone about the work they were scheduled for. All the food, coffee and soft drinks they wanted were provided, but no alcohol was allowed.
Chapter 9
Clay spent the day reviewing the plan for what seemed to be the millionth time until he was getting fuzzy from it all. He and Joey had gone over each person’s role with the men until Clay was confident each man knew his part and could perform it well. Timing on the part of the drivers was the key to bringing the entire plan off, as he stressed repeatedly to all of the team. He finally tried to put it out of his mind and attempted to focus on other things. But it was neigh impossible to put it away completely. He left the others and went into an upstairs room to be alone. Events of the last two and a half years dominated his thinking, until he was consumed by thoughts of his reaction to those events. He felt a need to once more evaluate the drunken attack by a man he never met; motivated by God only knows what misguided perception of the night’s events. There was no feeling of guilt on his part for his role in what later occurred. The man was drunk and obnoxious; the girl with him was loosing interest or she would not have turned her attention to others so easily. Drinking too much and letting it affect his behavior was the individual’s fault. After the incident he had been repulsed by the needless death of the stranger, but at the same time he held the stranger fully accountable for actions resulting in his death. If the man had not attacked there would not have been a death. It was really quite simple. He still did not understand his own reaction; he had hid the body as if he was guilty of plotting the man’s death. Clay felt his reaction had been the same as many normal citizens would be; certainly not a majority, but many.
Emotions had emerged later after the incident and they were complicated and confusing; how and why had HE accepted the responsibility, and somehow the authority, to avenge the death of a friend? How had HE given himself permission to plan the execution of another human being; above the social system in place to handle such matters? How did HE make the transition from being involved in an accidental death to planning and executing a murder? There was no alcohol to blame or misguided perception of events; just a deep inner feeling, knowing vengeance was not only his obligation but his duty and his right. Was the chance run in with a drunk during the previous month the catalyst for a moral change in him? Or, was the seed for this line of thinking planted in him years ago, and nurtured by exposure to happenings in and about the Giliano clan? Had his chosen environment conditioned him to think the unthinkable? During all phases of the revenge killing he had felt no remorse for his intended victim. His vigilante action was a personal reconciliation to the act committed by Jerry O’Neil. He had formed a perception early in his life, accepting for every action there is an equal and opposing reaction. His role in response to Jimmy’s murder equated to an opposing reaction to the murderer.
In the two years between avenging Jimmy’s death and the attack on Tony’s life, his routine had returned to the same boring existence. He had continued to be assigned to one construction job after the other, breaking up with girlfriends, meeting new girlfriends. As with most people his age he h
ad no plans for the future and had never thought of where his life was going. There were no thoughts he might have a responsibility for setting directions and goals to achieve something; anything. Certainly he never had cause to anticipate, or had given even the slightest thought to, the possibility he could be called upon once more to be an avenger for the Gilianos. However, given his acceptance of the initial vigilante role he had not consciously rejected performing the role again.
He was in awe as he looked back to the time when he first learned Tony had been shot. When Anna chose him to lead the fight to avenge the attack on Tony he had protested feebly, not strongly and with determination. Why had his connection to this family given Anna the power to hold him in her grasp and convince him to do things he would do for no one else? His mother or Walter would never think of making such a demand on him. Even if they somehow could, he was confident he could say no; they would understand and he would not feel any guilt. Was he a captive of the circumstances because he understood too well the inner workings of the crime system and had subconsciously let it be forced upon him? Or, and he had a problem with even thinking it, had he knowingly accepted this criminal life style years ago and simply not been pressed to acknowledge and live it?
He had to admit he was excited by the prospect of executing the plan he had taken the lead in formulating. At twenty three years of age he was heading up an established criminal organization and the older seasoned men in the group accepted him; they were willing to follow his commands knowing they could die if his plan failed. He was elated by the sense of power and control he felt, but also accepted a responsibility to make sure his plan did not fail. Failure would lead to one of three things; his death during the attack, the Russians escaping and later killing him, or the police tracking him down for the courts to sentence him to death. Failure was not an option.
During his first experience in the death of another person he had been intimately involved in a struggle with another individual. When it was over he was shaken and deeply affected by the outcome. During the second event he was sort of detached. He felt it could be due to the period of time spent during the planning and preparation. Now he wondered if his detachment was in reality his acceptance of feelings he had developed but had repressed during his association with Jimmy.
Whatever the reasons, he felt no remorse for what he was about to do. The Russian gang had drawn first blood and would be dealt with. All of the whys and what ifs didn’t mean a thing. He had an objective and it was clear in his mind how to accomplish it. The fact he planned to lead an imminent attack to kill fourteen people and had set the stage to find and kill another twenty in the following weeks did not make him a monster. All the people involved lived in an inner society where the rules were entirely different from the larger society his mother and Walter lived in. This society had rules much more absolute than those of the larger judicially bound society. His society’s rules were understood by all who existed there, and a death penalty for breaking those rules was the norm.
A looming question for him was where this would lead him after the attack; assuming they were successful, of course. Could he turn his back on the events of the past several weeks and go back to his previous lifestyle? He honestly didn’t know. Tony had made him a very lucrative and interesting offer two years earlier. He had learned in the past weeks he could control the behavior of, and gain the respect of, the men he was now leading. He had stopped Joey in his tracks when he threatened to kill him unless his orders were followed precisely. And he knew, as did Joey, he was serious. It was not the idle threat of someone posturing for effect or attention. He knew as surely as he was breathing, if Joey had rebelled he would have killed him instantly, and with little or no remorse.
Would he, or could he, have seriously made the threat a year earlier or even a month earlier? His sense was no. He would not have, and could not have carried it off with the authority and intimidation required. The only way he would have uttered the phrase “I’ll kill you” was in a joking manner. If he had been pushed by some outside circumstance which evoked an emotion to threaten someone before, he was not sure it could have been said convincingly enough to intimidate another individual.
Clay finally dozed off into a sporadic and uneven sleep until he was nudged awake at five by Joey who was getting the men prepared to leave.
Chapter 10
At seven O’clock in the evening on Saturday July 29, 1972 Clay, Joey and sixteen other men left the building they had shared for the last twelve hours. All were wearing dark blue coveralls and most were wearing base ball style caps. All wore thin cotton gloves and had a ski mask in their pockets. Six others would leave an hour later to hit specific individuals within the Russian gang. Those men who were targeted had been followed all day and their locations had been relayed back to Joey. Where possible those hits would be clean and the bodies of the victims would disappear. Where necessary, robbery would be staged as the motive for the killings. Six other men would hit the Russians gang’s warehouse at eight thirty to clean out anyone left there before setting fire to the structure.
He had two major concerns with the plan he had devised. First, the Russians had to cooperate by maintaining their Saturday evening routine. If they changed their route before accessing the toll way, the hit would have to be canceled. Second, to be successful the plan required precise timing by a number of people in several pieces of equipment. If any one car or truck was delayed, or out of position, the entire operation would be in jeopardy and the lives of his own people would be at risk.
A few minutes before eight, the lead car left the warehouse and moved to the gate of the Toscovich headquarters. Minutes later the black Cadillac and its tail car appeared. The three cars headed for the Tri-State Toll Way by the same route they had taken previously. Clay silently breathed a sigh of relief.
Joey’s crew maintained contact by radio and began to maneuver trucks and cars into position. Drivers were kept apprised of the location of the three car target convoy as they sped along the four lane highway leading to the toll way. Joey was driving a large tow truck and Clay was his passenger. Each carried a pair of Colt Python .357 caliber revolvers. In addition, Clay had four incendiary grenades strapped to his waist. Traffic had moderated by then and the Russians were driving in the inside lane at fifty MPH.
Joey had positioned the big truck two cars behind the tail car. When the exit to the toll way was within half a mile he moved the tow truck over to the second lane from the far right and gained two car lengths, to just behind and to the right of the tail car’s position.. A van type truck was about six car lengths ahead of Joey in his lane and a tractor with a sixty foot box trailer was ahead of the van with three sedans ahead of it.
Approaching the exit, the three car convoy moved into the space between Joey’s truck and the van ahead of him. Upon the Russian’s lane switch, the van truck slowed slightly and Joey closed the gap behind the tail car, blocking any other cars from cutting in. The sedan on Joey’s right pulled ahead and beside the Russian’s lead car. The tractor trailer moved into the right approach lane before it reached the toll way approach and began to slow, ahead of the sharp curve. The van truck passed to be along side the tractor trailer and the three vehicles in front of the van began to reduce speed. All of the vehicles had to slow down for the twenty MPH limit on the tightly curved right turn down to the toll road. As the tractor trailer got into the middle of the turn all of the traffic slowed to a crawl. The tractor trailer stopped in the right lane, but the left lane continued to move slowly with the cars bunching up close together. When the back of the van truck was even with the front of the trailer the driver slammed on the brakes, forcing the Toscovich cars to be bumper to bumper.
Joey dropped the gearshift of the heavy tow truck into second gear and plowed into the rear end of the tail car, jamming all three of the Russian cars together tightly. At the sound of the impact, covers were dropped from openings cut in the left side of the sixty foot trailer. Six men with M-14 rifl
es began firing into the three cars. Each man targeted his assigned front or back seat, emptied his magazine, quickly reloaded and fired again. Clay and Joey had put their ski mask on and began firing their pistols into the tail car at the three people in the back seat. At the sound of the first shots, the back door of the van truck had raised and a man with an M-14 had started firing into the front of the lead car. After each rifleman had fired three thirty round magazines, the empties were gathered up and the shooters exited the trucks. They moved to the rear escape car where the trunk lid had been raised. As they walked by each man placed his rifle and magazines in the trunk. Each still carried a pistol in case problems developed later. Joey and then Clay exited the driver’s side of the tow truck cab and walked along the three mutilated cars. All of the people in them appeared to be dead except for two who were coughing and choking on their own blood. Joey went ahead with a hammer breaking the rear passenger side window glasses where they weren’t already broken by the gunfire. He shot each of the two men who were still alive in the head as he came to them. Both bodies jerked mildly as the lead slugs mushed their brains, sending the last nerve impulses to the body’s muscles. Clay followed him and tossed an incendiary grenade into the back seat of each car, with an extra one in the front seat of Ivanoff Toscovich’s black Cadillac. Ivanoff and Sophia were both on the drivers side of the back seat, as if seeking refuge there to escape the unending barrage of gunfire. After positively identifying Sophia and noting the gold chains on the blond haired man, Clay shot each of them in the head twice and quickly moved on. Before he and Joey reached the front of the van truck the first grenade exploded and the phosphorus could be smelled in the air. The car erupted in flames and through the smoke and flames Clay could see people from the cars behind the tow truck standing outside their cars pointing to the death scene. Both men got in the front seat of the lead car and all three vehicles moved down the approach and onto the toll way.
Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy Page 8
