, I’l bet the big guys over at Wizeguyz wil be happy as pigs in shit now. They needed proof I was with them after what my Uncle did back when he and Crazy Joe fought that war and my Pop’s got whacked…er died… when I was little kid. Kinda funny though that the proof these guys needed was that I would go against Leo Ciancetta. It’s ok though; my move wasn’t the only one going tonight. Muro Lucano was insistent on that fact. A few of Old Leo’s gunners needed taking out in the first wave. ‘Clean house right from the start, leave Ciancetta with no firepower.’ That’s what Muro said. Guess he learned something from the war with Uncle Joey and Ciancetta. They want to try and get the boss to hand over the reins, something about making it a matter of over the reins, something about making it a matter of respect. They figure if they don’t kil the boss to become boss, then if something similar happens to them, they wouldn’t be the ones to get whacked.” Sal was rambling about how his father, of the same name, played it smart. In his eyes, his father was a genius, but his short tenure at the top, and quick fal to the grave, would beg to differ.
Though there were a few exceptions, most of the big bosses had a tendency to be egotistical braggarts that get the top spot through kil ing and talking big. Most of them merely threw enough smoke and mirrors to get them up top, not to sustain anything of significance. That made it al the more interesting to Alex.
Joe Falzone, by al accounts, was as smart and crafty as they came. He’d been the underboss or consigliore for the better part of fifteen years and survived numerous shifts in power. He accomplished this by staying away from the top spot. Why had he now decided to go for capo di tutti capi ?
Sal’s sudden, “Damn it man!” interrupted Garducci’s thoughts. “They better know I’m with them now. I hate meetings though. I’m al fucking nerves, Vic.”
Victor shifted in his seat and took a glance over at Sal. He was worse than he thought. Sweat was beading up on his forehead and his knuckles were white while they gripped the wheel. Victor studied the grip. Sal just torched the prized business of the most powerful underworld figure in the greater Buffalo-Ontario area.
“Don’t worry Sal-e buddy, me and Frankie are going with you. Everything wil be fine, won’t it Frankie?”
Sal looked into the rearview mirror at Frankie.
“Yeah Sal, everything’s going to be fine. The big guys asked you to do it. If you said no, you’d be dead anyway. Now, they know you’re with ‘em.
Maybe they’l bring you up the chain with ‘em for this.
This, this ain’t no smal favor they asked of you. And when you move up, take me and Vic with ya, ya know? Make us al big guys.”
The way that Frankie spoke made Victor beg for an eventual end to his droning, but he noticed an opposite effect on Sal. It seemed that Frankie’s little speech calmed Sal down as he basked in the daydream of future power.
“Yeah, that’s right. Instead of us al working for them, maybe one day you two bums wil work just for me.”
Sal was a little more relaxed now and he gave Victor a little punch on the arm and flashed him a smile.
“Stil , it is good to see you. I’m glad the guys sent you to get me. Tonight is a big night for my whole family man. And on top of it al this shit with Falzone and Ciancetta.”
With that they pul ed up to the abandoned parking lot in front of Wizeguyz. They exited the SUV
and with Sal leading the way, Victor and Frankie went into the double doors of Wizeguyz Bil iards.
When they entered the building, things were much they way they were when Victor left. Aldo and Muro were sitting in the rear left booth, the cigarettes piled up more and the smoke hanging above the pool hal stagnated. Jimmy Jacks and Tom Coughlin were no longer playing pool, but by the shot glasses stacked in front of them, and the way the heavy bartender was pouring out a line of
Mary Renault
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