She nodded and slipped into a blue dress while he did up his pants. Sammy held his hand as they left the bedroom, which he mistook for affection. Fear of meeting Alice was the real cause.
FRANK AND SAM walked into the living room and Alice‘s jaw opened wide. Bobby‘s eyes darted between Sam and Alice, while Mary Lou watched benignly.
“Good to meet you, dear.”
Sam‘s mouth twitched a smile as she had no idea what to do next. His mom hadn‘t remembered her but Alice sure as hell had.
“Hi all. How are you doing?”
Frank appeared to not notice the confusion and embarrassment on everybody else‘s faces. Then he blinked and realized he‘d stepped into the middle of a Noel Coward play. Mumbled responses to Sam‘s question ensued as Bobby, at least, tried to salvage the moment and steer everyone well enough to sit down to eat.
The silence was broken by Irma who took them into the dining room to serve their food. Bobby and Mary Lou at each end of the table with Alice sat opposite Sam and Frank. A pleasant family meal. The knives were needed more to cut the tension than the veal which was tender and flavorsome.
Alice trawled the food around her plate. When Sam first walked into the room, as Alice exhaled, a wave of anger overtook her body and she wanted to grab a gun and shoot Sam through the head. Then she inhaled and withdrew from the world, wanting to curl into a little ball and vanish into nothing.
Now she glared at Sam, occasionally scooping a mouthful of veal or potato. Mary Lou ate her meal in silence, focused on her delightful food and not experiencing the same emotional fallout as the rest of the table. Bobby knew better than to stand in the way of the twins, their lover and their mother.
Almost the second Irma cleared the plates away, Sam declared she was going up to bed. Frank shrugged and, given the lack of joy in the room, followed soon after. Alice listened as his footsteps announced his arrival on the second floor.
“Why didn‘t you tell me?”
“He called her Sammy and she hid in their bedroom until just before dinner. I found out the same instant as you.”
“Fucking whore.”
Neither disagreed but Mary Lou remained resolutely silent. Bobby opened his arms and Alice walked towards him and accepted the hug. All three sat down in the living room and attacked a bottle of Scotch. Two hours later, Alice crashed out on the couch: she couldn‘t face being only a wall‘s width from the rutting couple.
“We still a need plan.”
“Kill the bitch.”
“Not what I meant...”
FRANK TUCKED INTO his pancakes with gusto while the rest of the family was subdued. He and Sam had a long conversation the night before when she explained to him what he was too emotionally illiterate to comprehend for himself and now he understood why everyone was acting so strange. The man remained untouched by everybody else‘s emotional fallout, but Sam made him promise not to lay into Alice - for her sake and a quiet life.
His response was to fill his face with food because he couldn‘t be sure anything apart from barbs would come out of his mouth if he spoke. Sam pecked at her maple syrup soaked circles but was able to meet Alice‘s gaze once or twice.
Alice‘s sense of loss stayed with her from the moment she woke up but she recognized nothing and nobody was going to make her feel better - in the short term. She wasn‘t hungry but despite this, she made sure she ate some of Irma‘s cooking and instigated a tiny amount of small talk. The silence was too oppressive and centered on her.
“These are so good.”
“Irma‘s done a fabulous job.”
“Yep.”
“Anyone had fresh thoughts about the Markov problem?”
”You won‘t hear me say this again in my lifetime, but Frank might be right.”
“Thanks sis‘.”
“Hold back the hugs: you didn‘t let me finish.”
“You might be right that direct intervention is the answer. But you‘re probably thinking about rushing in with a crew and committing merry mayhem.”
“Pretty much. Go in, kill ‘em, leave.”
“That is the opposite of what‘s to be done. We need to cut off the head of the snake and leave the rest of the body alone.”
All silverware was placed on plates as Alice grabbed everybody‘s attention.
“What are you thinking?”
“One person - not a crew - go to the Markovs and once they are facing Nikolay, a bullet to the head solves all our difficulties. The rest of his family and fellas will fold immediately.”
“And who should get this assignment?”
“Nothing personal Sam, but perhaps we should carry on this conversation in the summerhouse.”
“It‘s okay, sis‘. Sam‘s already heard about my business.”
“And about ours too?”
“No, Alice. Just Frank‘s world. He let me in.”
A glare for a response and Alice stood up.
“You coming? We‘ve already said too much in front of her.”
The ease with which they‘d moved from breakfast to assassination showed how Sam had entered their circle of trust by stealth. Now she had enough to go to the Feds and pocket herself a healthy reward. Bobby thought for half a second and stood up, which encouraged Mary Lou and Frank to follow.
ENSCONCED IN THE safety of the poolside building, Alice was more relaxed.
“So who should go on the mission? Can‘t be me because Markov won‘t believe I have any interest in him or his family. Mama and Bobby aren‘t believable either.”
They all did the Math and that left only one person.
“You looking at me?”
“I don‘t see anyone else here.”
“Got to be kidding. I want Nikolay Markov dead but only if I‘m still alive as well. I‘m not volunteering for a suicide mission.”
Alice‘s eyebrows raised themselves up on their haunches and she smiled.
“I thought you wanted to kill them all.”
“Not at any cost.”
“Good to come home to a warm bed, huh?”
“Does my sleeping with Sammy bother you?”
“Children!”
Mary Lou bellowed across the room at the squabbling twins. The effect was instant silence and sheepish looks.
“Sorry, Mama.”
“If you‘re not willing to go, who should we use instead?”
“Someone from out of town.”
“We could get Naldo to recommend a shooter. He‘s seen some action in his day.”
“Sure has. They need to be beyond reliable. That‘s the trouble with strangers: how can we trust them? With all due respect to any suggestion from Naldo.”
“Is there any chance of finding Markov alone long enough to hit him and get away?”
“Naldo already checked that out. He‘s always with somebody by day or has armed guards surround him at night. There‘s too much firepower near him.”
“Sniper?”
“That‘s a possibility. A rifle trained on his bedroom window might work but he keeps the blinds shut at all times so basic aiming would be tricky.”
“We‘re getting nowhere with is. All we‘ve figured out for sure is we want Nikolay Markov dead.”
“A BOMB? INSTEAD of a focused strike, perhaps we should blast the fuck out of an entire building.”
“Family home?”
“It‘s one thing to hit Nikolay with an incendiary device. It‘s another to murder his wife and children.”
“Okay. His kids don‘t go with him to work, right?”
“True but he doesn‘t even have an office. He travels round, visiting his venues collecting his tribute. The guy is shrewd: can‘t fault him for that.”
“Sniper in a helicopter?”
“This isn‘t the movies. Let‘s not clutch at straws.”
“Feels like that‘s all we‘ve got.”
The three continued to chew the fat until lunch but were no nearer to any useful conclusion. Sam joined them to eat and in the afternoon, she a
nd Frank left the compound. Alice stayed with Mama and Bobby, which was enjoyable but delivered no plan.
“Maybe killing him isn‘t the answer.”
30
ALICE AND BOBBY sat in the summerhouse. It was the wrong half of the year to sit outside although the temperature wasn‘t that cold. Another Californian Winter‘s day. Mostly, they were silent in their own worlds but every now and then, they‘d glance at each other or mumble a few words. Bobby hid behind a newspaper and Alice didn‘t pretend: she was plain sitting doing nothing in particular.
Or rather, she was using the time to focus on Nikolay Markov. Until the moment when his dick took over from his brain, Nikolay appeared to be open to working together - unless the entire evening was a ruse to get inside her panties. If she set aside the fear and humiliation he'd reaped upon her, the Markov clan was a great fit. Alice did her level best to compartmentalize business from her personal experience of the man. Each family had different but complementary strengths which would support the other‘s weaknesses. A marriage made not so much in heaven but a lap dancing club in the Tenderloin.
Perhaps the trick was to appeal to his wallet or his ego. Puff him up and make him take the sting out of his tail. Once everyone and everything had calmed down, either he‘d see the sense in the deal or she'd slice him open from throat to groin at some later date.
“We should make a peace instead of killing Markov.”
“Do you not think we‘re beyond that now?”
“Not necessarily. Whether we want to admit it, we need them - or some outfit like them.”
“You might be right but that‘s not what I meant.”
“Huh?”
“We‘ve killed his family. He‘s murdered Milton and we‘ve both lost fellas too. I‘d suggest relationships are founded on trust and we‘re living through a fundamental breakdown in that ingredient.”
“Only if we let go of hope.”
“You can take the girl out of California...”
“... but you can‘t take California out of me.”
“Your optimism is astounding.”
“You need faith that change is possible if you‘re to succeed. And sometimes that involves finding the good in people. Even someone like Nikolay, who is a cockroach. If I was able to stamp on him and destroy him then I would, but we can't see how to rid ourselves of the Markov infestation. That means we have to accept they‘ll be around and learn to live with them.”
“Was that a long speech to say: if you can‘t beat them, join them?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“BOBBY SAID YOU‘VE come up with an idea.”
“Yes, but I‘m not sure how you‘ll respond.”
“Won‘t know until you tell me.”
Bobby sat still and let the women continue their conversation without interruption.
“If we can‘t assassinate Nikolay Markov then we need to join forces with him. There‘s no other way a neutralize him as a threat.”
“Sounds the exact opposite of what we should do. How can we trust a man like that?”
“I‘m not saying we do. Just that it‘ll be the easiest route to stop the war. If the killing reduces, we have a better chance of making money and surviving until Easter.”
“Sure would be great to find some calm. All this hostility isn‘t good for the soul.”
“Right. The man is too difficult to destroy at the moment, but that will change once we get him to lower his guard. To do that, we must build a peace with him. Create a joint operation to work on together and then make a move.”
“That‘s fine but I would need to be top dog. He would report to me on this project.”
“I can‘t guarantee that‘d happen Mama. Besides, the endgame is his removal. If he rules the roost, that would just put him in the place we need for him even faster.”
“I couldn‘t take orders from that man. Milton‘s in his grave because of him.”
“It wouldn‘t matter. Within a month, he‘d have called off his hounds and then we deal with him.”
Bobby stood up and headed for the door. With a hand on the handle, he turned around.
“Alice is right. To get Markov into the morgue requires us to put him on ice first. Until that point, we suck in any discomfort.”
He didn‘t wait for any reply and walked out.
MARY LOU STARED at the closed door and Alice wondered if she was in a trance. Then she blinked and mentally returned to the room. Mama smiled quietly to herself and turned her attention to Alice.
“You met up with him.”
“What?”
“Nikolay. You had a meal with Markov. What happened that meant you wouldn‘t tell me you‘d even seen him?”
“Don‘t want to talk about it. I made a mistake.”
“One that‘s cost us several good men. From what I‘ve been told, all this maelstrom of blood letting started shortly after you broke bread with him.”
“I‘m all too aware.”
“And the fact you kept it from me means either you‘re about to turn traitor, he did something wrong or you behaved inappropriately. Which was it?”
“I‘m no traitor, Mama.”
“Sure, dear. You wouldn‘t be the first woman in this family to have had to fend off sexual advances from a man.”
Tears ran down Alice‘s cheeks and they hugged, but Alice refused to go into any details about what went down in her hotel bedroom and Mama didn‘t elaborate on what had happened to her when she visited Uncle Frankie and he laid his hands on her.
FRANK HAD NEVER been to San Francisco. When he arrived, he was not disappointed and he was not alone: Isaak Vasilev sat next to him on the plane. When he realized a firm hand was required and a violent disposition, Isaak was the first person who popped into his head.
They had met when Frank had got into a spot of bother in Morocco shortly after leaving school. The local dealers weren‘t impressed with Frank‘s attempts to introduce a little healthy American-style competition to their country. Isaak appreciated Frank‘s entrepreneurial efforts and applied a knife and a gun to the problem. They had kept in touch ever since and when Isaak moved to the States, Frank ensured he found the man work that suited his talents for murder and mayhem.
Over the course of a week, Frank and Isaak proceeded to make inroads into the Markov empire. First, they unearthed a meth lab which supplied Nikolay and sent Molotov cocktails into the building. The next day on the other side of the bay, they did the same to a crack house.
Isaak paid a visit to the Red Stocking and sliced himself some whore faces so they hit the Markov cash flow very rapidly and without getting spotted. By the third day, the Markovs noticed Frank‘s antics. The good news was that they were like a needle in a haystack to find. Two men in a city of millions gave them the best odds to survive.
BY FLYING UNDER the radar, Frank was having a low-level impact but his activities were far from a game changer. His family would learn to trust him if he showed them he knew what he was doing. So the next logical thing to do was to build an operation in SF, something no Lagotti had been able to achieve.
A narcotics play would take too much time to prepare, but a brothel would do the trick and only required rent to be paid upfront and girls would start to earn that night. Twenty-four hours later and Frank held the keys in his hand to an undesirable residence on the edge of the Tenderloin as far away from any Markov establishment they knew about.
While Isaak set about organizing rudimentary furniture for each bedroom, Frank hit the bus station to grab fresh tail among the new arrivals to the city. A rental car took the hapless ladies to the house and Frank gave his employees a full staff induction. He showed them the bathroom and explained how they kept their tips but the first thirty dollars from each john belonged to him. Any trouble, they screamed and Isaak would sort the dude out.
The next day, Isaak added partitioning in the larger upstairs rooms and Frank returned to the bus station for more ass. Without Nikolay noticing, Frank had kicked off a San Fr
ancisco operation by slowly boiling the frog. Slamming into an existing deal was never going to work, Frank reckoned.
He stayed in the area to get to know the locals and to hire a timekeeper and troubleshooter. As fabulous as the cathouse was, Frank had other plans for his time which didn‘t involve fucking. He smiled at that idea: he never imagined such a statement might ever be true. Besides, when he got home, he‘d have Sammy in his bed and what she could do with her body was worth waiting for.
31
PASQUALE BASSANI WAS an old man, who enjoyed nothing more than sipping coffee at a cafe, a casual round of golf when he had the energy and quiet conversation with his family and friends. Florida was the perfect state to retire in because its weather was fine and the stresses of his former life were far away. There had been a long tradition of gangsters staying in Miami-Dade dating back to Al Capone so Pasquale was in good company.
When he retired to the Sunshine State, Pasquale sold up all his investments in the various illicit assets which he owned and ensured everyone knew it. He‘d heard too many stories of revenge being taken on the older generation because they were sitting ducks.
Visitors were welcome but Pasquale had no desire to be dragged into the problems of today. The mob world was behind him and he lived with the riches that life had generated for him. So when Bobby called to ask his advice, Pasquale was cautious. Not out of any distrust of Bobby: he and Mary Lou had been doing business together since the early ‘7Os.
He didn‘t want his words to cause someone to be killed and a misguided relative take retaliatory action against him. Pasquale had survived way too much to be whacked by a teenager with a gun and a point to prove. No-one was going to make their bones by sending him to the morgue.
Bobby and Pasquale sat on his patio and sipped a glass of red wine each.
“Thank you for allowing me to come here to speak with you.”
“Most welcome. How is Mary Lou?”
Mama’s Gone Page 18
