by Debra Dunbar
The youth nodded.
“I made arrangements late last year with the families of New York for new pinchers. Mister Floresta is here make good on that arrangement. Buddy is to be our newest pincher.”
A wave of excitement rolled through the room.
Vito clapped his hands against Buddy’s shoulders. “It has been my desire for some time to secure more stregone power. This couldn’t have come at a better time. In addition, this gesture is only the first in a new spirit of cooperation with my counterpart in New York.”
Vincent nearly rolled his eyes when Vito equated himself with Joe “the Boss” Masseria. It was as if a housecat declared itself equal to a lion.
“We stand at the gap, my brothers. A space we must cross, behind which we can never return. And I am gladdened by it. Baltimore will finally take its place at the table.”
A cheer sprang from the Crew.
“We will be given our portion of honor.”
Another cheer.
“And we have work to do.”
As the announcement concluded, the gang swarmed Buddy.
“I asked him not to warn you we were coming,” Floresta said from Vincent’s side. “I wanted to see the look on your face.”
Vincent turned to face him. “Hope you enjoyed the show, you prick.”
“I did.” Floresta eyed Buddy. “He’s fresh from Ithaca, that one.”
“I can tell.”
“If you’re wondering what the catch is, I’m here to tell you there is no catch.”
Vincent lifted a brow at the other man.
“Well,” Floresta amended, “there may be one tiny catch.”
“Besides the fact that I’m gonna have to babysit this kid for a year or two?”
“That’s right,” Floresta chirped. “You’re used to being the only child. This’ll be a whole new world for you. I think you might enjoy having a counterpart, if you give the kid a chance.”
“What’s the wrinkle, Floresta?”
He waved his fingers at Vincent. “We’ll discuss it in due time.”
Clearly he wasn’t going to get anything more out of Sparks. Vincent looked over to where Buddy was getting pummeled on the shoulders and back by all his well-wishers.
“So, what’s the deal on this kid? What can he do?”
Floresta smiled. “He’s what I’ve been calling a target pincher.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vincent asked.
“Here,” Floresta replied, grabbing Vincent’s glass of gin. “I’ll show you.”
Floresta wound his way to Buddy, easing some of the crowd away from the kid while whispering into his ear. Buddy nodded once before reaching into his pocket to produce a nickel. He lifted it for all to see.
Floresta stepped through the crowd to the opposite end of the now silent lounge. He lifted the glass to Buddy, who nodded again. Floresta lifted the glass over his head.
Buddy turned around to face the lobby. With a casual flip of his thumb, he sent the nickel spinning into the air. It traced an unassuming arc over everyone’s heads, flying across the lounge until it splashed into the glass with a tinkle and a spray of liquor onto Floresta’s sleeve.
The lounge erupted in applause as Vito beamed. Floresta lowered the glass and wound his way back to Vincent.
“He hits his targets?” Vincent muttered.
“You should see what he can do with a revolver.” Floresta closed in to whisper, “He’s the real deal, and he’s Ithaca trained. Don’t waste him. Don’t underestimate him.”
Vincent scowled. “I’m more interested in why the hell you’re dangling him in front of Vito.”
Lefty approached them both. “The Capo wants us in the war room.” He turned for the lobby before Vincent could respond.
They followed Lefty past the lobby desk and through the innocuous door that lead to Vito’s de facto war room. It was the same four bare walls inside which he’d defended Hattie those months ago. Lefty stood midway along the far wall, arms crossed, eyes working the floor. Vito stood at the end of the table.
“And so,” the Capo declared, “we have two stregone!”
Vincent turned to Buddy who had filed into the room just behind Floresta. The youth nodded to Vincent once, then gave Vito his full attention.
Vito turned to Lefty. “This young man is one of two we are owed, per my agreement last winter.”
Lefty squinted at the Capo. “We have two, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Vito replied with a lift of his finger. “But Vincenzo was returned to us by Philadelphia. That does not count as one of our two.”
“I see,” Lefty turned to Buddy. “You’re a target pincher, huh?”
Buddy nodded, his head bobbing enthusiastically.
Lefty eyed the boy, “You can speak. It’ll make things easier.”
Buddy drew in a breath, then said in a Brooklyn accent, “Yeah, I can hit pretty much anything, if I get a hair about it.”
Floresta said, “He’s a marvel, to be sure. Later we’ll take him outside the city and we’ll set up some targets.”
Vito lifted his hands. “Unnecessary, and wasteful. Besides, we have business to attend to.”
This must be the wrinkle, Vincent thought as Vito turned to him.
“This gesture of goodwill comes with an expectation of reciprocity.”
Vincent set his jaw. No. He was not going back to Ithaca. And he wouldn’t be traded away like some horse at auction either.
Floresta grinned. “Relax, Calendo. This is a business arrangement.”
Vito nodded to Floresta, who stepped up to the table.
“As you know,” he began, “Joe Masseria has engaged in a battle of wills with the rest of the five families. To date, he’s come out on top of the pile. His greatest present threat is Salvatore Maranzano. Masseria’s tried to take down Maranzano without going to war. No one wants guns out in the middle of New York. Not yet, anyways.”
“So what’s the arrangement?” Lefty asked.
Floresta gestured to the new pincher. “Capo Corbi has agreed to release Vincent and Buddy to my command until such a time as we can unseat Maranzano and put New York in the hands of Masseria.”
Lefty muttered, “Capo di tutti capi.”
Floresta nodded. “Yes, exactly. Masseria aims to be the boss of the bosses.”
“So, Buddy’s just here on spec,” Vincent pointed out. “That ain’t exactly the gesture you had it out to be.”
“Quiet,” Vito snapped.
Vincent stiffened, then lowered his head.
“This business between Giuseppe and Salvatore makes it impossible to release the Ithaca stregone,” Vito added. “Giuseppe is being gracious. We will respond with respect.”
Lefty asked, “Then we’re throwing in with Masseria? What about the other families?”
Floresta shrugged. “Baltimore’s too far from New York for that to be a problem for any of you. Once Masseria’s free and clear the strongman in New York, he’ll extend his protection to the Baltimore Crew. Plus, he’ll deliver that second pincher to your Capo. That makes you the preeminent power south of New York. There’s really no downside for Baltimore in this deal.”
“Except that Buddy and I could end up with a lead cough,” Vincent muttered.
“So, keep your head down and do what I say.” Floresta chuckled. “This isn’t a turf war. We’re going to play this slick and quiet. If no one louses this up, Maranzano will go down before anyone knows he’s under attack.”
Lefty narrowed his eyes. “How many pinchers does Maranzano control?”
“Just a couple, at this point,” Floresta replied. “O’Donnell hit them hard last summer, and they’ve lost some talent since, but the ones who remained are top shelf and dangerous.”
Vincent turned to his Capo. “So it’s just me and Buddy going to New York?”
Vito nodded to Lefty. “Alonzo will accompany you, of course. And as the man said,” Vito added, “you will do as he says. Failure in this effort will not
be forgiven.”
Vincent held a breath, a fiery ball of hatred burning in his chest. Once there was a time when such a threat from the Capo would have sent a wave of terror through Vincent, but now, Vincent felt nothing but loathing.
“Yes, Capo,” he replied in a careful tone.
The meeting adjourned, and Vincent followed Lefty into the lobby. Floresta and Buddy joined them, huddling together in a conspiratorial clutch.
Lefty extended his hand toward Buddy. “Welcome to the Crew.”
Buddy blinked at his hand, then shook it briskly.
Lefty added, “You’re wondering about the arm.”
“Yes, sir,” Buddy replied.
“Lost it in the War.”
“You fought in France?” Buddy asked, his eyes wide.
“Sort of,” Lefty replied. “It’s complicated.”
Vincent smirked. “You’ll find everything about Lefty is complicated.”
Floresta turned to Lefty. “I think the two of you should take some time. Get acquainted. I’ll take Vincent, here. We’ll get train tickets and meet you at the station?”
Lefty nodded and guided Buddy back toward the lounge while Vincent eyed Floresta.
“You got another wrinkle,” Vincent accused the other man. “Don’t you?”
“Maybe I do. And maybe it’s the sort of wrinkle you and I should discuss somewhere private.” Floresta marched for the hotel door as Vincent followed, wondering what sort of problem this was going to throw into his and Hattie’s plans.
Hattie. Damn it all, he was most likely going to be stuffed onto a train in less than an hour, and he wasn’t about to leave the city without letting her know what was going on.
“I’ll meet you at the station,” he told Floresta. “I’ve got a few things to do before we go.”
“Calendo, there’s something you need to know first.”
“What?” Vincent eyed him impatiently. “That Luciano’s making a move and this is all part of some convoluted plan?”
Floresta’s jaw stiffened before it eased into a smile. “You’re not half as dumb as you look, you know that?”
Vincent waved him away. “We’ll talk on the train. I gotta grab a suit. Get my neighbors to feed the cat. That sort of thing”
“You have a cat?” Floresta shook his head. “Fine. Make it snappy, though. I’m getting the first train to New York, and no one wins if we’re late.”
Vincent nodded, then turned up the street for his car.
He had to move fast. And he had to find Hattie.
Chapter 7
Hattie sat at Vincent’s table stroking Roscoe as the cat purred in her lap. Blake had long gone, taking the car back to the Charge and leaving Hattie alone in her misery. She stared at the corner of the kitchen where the cabinets met the floor. Sounds from the street barely covered the sound of purring as she waited.
He’d opened the letter.
Hattie already knew what was inside. Her cousin had told her when she phoned him the second time about Vincent’s family. And now, Vincent knew as well.
It was an hour before she heard footsteps in the hall outside the apartment. A key clinked in the lock, then spun free.
The air pulled tight in the time-pinched turbidity she’d grown used to inside Vincent’s time bubbles. She forced her chest to draw in thick breaths as the door eased open. Vincent slipped inside his own apartment, gun drawn. When his eyes landed on Hattie, he lowered the gun and dropped the time pinch. The sounds from the street reemerged from the frozen moment, and his shoulders relaxed.
“Oh. It’s you.” He stepped toward her, then froze as he glanced to the tabletop, and the letter and envelope still resting there in neat order.
Hattie cleared her throat. “I wasn’t ready to show you this yet.”
“How long have you known?” He holstered his gun and reached down to pick up the letter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I got this a few weeks back, and…I…I couldn’t make up my mind whether to tell you or not. Maybe you were happier not knowing. That and I was dreading bringing more sadness into your life.”
He tossed the letter down on the table. “I’d been told they sold me. That’s what I’d always believed.”
Hattie got to her feet, swiping her face as tears stung her eyes. “Please don’t hate me. Please don’t.”
Vincent froze. Cocking his head, he reached for Hattie’s face to stroke her cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “Oh, no. Don’t think that. Don’t ever think that. It’s a shock, but I’m glad I know.”
She leaned into his hand. “I… I sat here…thinking about all the ways you’d hate me for this. You yelling at me, kicking me out. Vowing never to see me again.”
Vincent pulled her into his arms for a tight hug. “Never.”
“I wanted to be here when you read it. I wanted to be here for you.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “I’m glad you weren’t, to be honest.” He released her and moved to put the letter back into the envelope. “I hate getting all weepy in front of women.”
Hattie sniffled her way through a laugh. “You big burly tough man, you.”
He flipped the envelope flap closed and pocketed the letter in his jacket. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. A lot’s happened in the past hour and I needed to see you. I have to go to New York City.”
She shook her head. “What? Today?”
“We’re leaving on the next train. I hope I’ll only be gone for a few days, but it may be weeks. I’m not sure. Is there someone at the warehouse who can get a message to you if I call?”
“What happened? Is everything okay?” She reached out to touch his arm. “They’re not…that toad of a man isn’t trading you to another family?”
“No, as far as I know I’m still Vito’s, but there’s a dozen things in play right now.” Vincent took off his hat and smoothed a hand over his hair. “For starters, there’s a new pincher in town.”
“Should I get my people—”
“For the Crew.”
“Oh.” Her eyes grew wide. “Corbi has a new pincher?”
“You remember Floresta? The one bidding on me at Ithaca? Well, he came rolling into town to meet with Vito. Brought him a pincher fresh out of the barn. An offering from Joe Masseria.”
Hattie frowned. “Wait, I thought Floresta worked for Luciano.”
“Yeah, they’re all in bed together.” Vincent folded his arms. “The deal is, me and this new pincher gotta take a train up to New York to help Masseria squeeze out his major competition. In exchange Vito gets to keep the new palooka, and he gets both a third pincher as well as the backing of Masseria’s organization.”
Hattie frowned. “That’s the last thing we want.”
“You bet your ass it is. Then, there’s the other deal. Floresta. He’s down the chain from Masseria, but Luciano’s his real boss. I get the sense all this horse trading for pinchers is part of a double cross. Been thinking about it on the way over, and I’m not sure what the play is. But Floresta wants me away from Vito. Which means Vito might get shellacked in the end.”
“Then, this is good?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Problem is I don’t trust Floresta. And I don’t need some Ithaca kid breathing down my neck. Especially since…well, he’s a target pincher. From the sound of it, anything he aims at, he hits. Gonna have to play it real smooth with that beanpole.”
Hattie sighed. “Perfect.”
“Still, I think I can make this work. Can you feed Roscoe while I’m out?”
Hattie stared down at the cat, then shook her head. “No. Because I’m coming, too.”
Vincent’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Hear me out.” She put out her hand to hold off any protest. “I won’t be right alongside you, but I think it’s best if I were nearby, maybe working another angle and gathering information on the sly. If there’s as many pinchers in New York as I think there are, and you’re playing two sides in a gang war, you’r
e going to need backup you can trust.”
Vincent nodded. “You’re not wrong.”
Hattie grinned. “I thought you’d fight me on this.”
“No, you’re right. Having you up there would absolutely take a load off. Besides, we have to be sure Corbi comes out of this cold in the ground or floating in the harbor. We’ve been playing a long game up until now, but if there’s going to be changes in the power structure in New York, then we need to act fast down here in Baltimore. We’ll have a tight window of opportunity, and I intend to take it.”
Hattie tilted her head. “You’ve changed your tune on that.”
Vincent unfolded his arms and turned to stare out the kitchen window. “I don’t trust that Masseria or Luciano wouldn’t replace Vito with someone who’s got a team of pinchers loyal to him. We need New York busy with New York, and Vito replaced with…I don’t know. Maybe nobody. The number of people I trust in the Crew is running low. I could count them on one hand, at this point. Part of me thinks we should burn it all to the ground.”
Hattie stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around his midsection to pull him tight. “I don’t know about that, but I agree that we’ve got to make be sure no one takes their place.”
He turned to face her, kissing her forehead. “We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I’ve got to pack.” Vincent eased away, moving for the bedroom. “And you need a plan for what you’re going to do in New York.”
“I’ll rent a room in the city, not too far away from where you’ll be. We can stay in touch and coordinate.”
Vincent said from the bedroom, “Sounds thin.”
“It’ll come solid when we’re in the city.”
“You’ll want to find Ghasawi. I’d feel better if you had someone watching your back when I’m not there,” he called out.
“Right. Well, I have news about that.”
Vincent peered at her from his bedroom, suit in hand. “What?”
“He’s gone.”
Vincent turned to put his suit down and stepped back into the kitchen. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“Left the city. The state, most likely.”
