handle, it all started to jell in his mind.
He was going to be needing Sposato a little while longer because there was still money to be made with him, gun money. Dominick Provenzano had just given Sposato a new lease on life. Kuklinski’s fingernail clicked down the notches as he thought this all out, considering all the angles.
Dominick wanted heavy steel, military weapons. Sposato had access to all kinds of weapons. If Dominick was on the up-and-up, he could make a nice profit brokering Sposato’s merchandise to him.
But there was one thing Kuklinski had to take care of first, something that had been bothering him for a long time, clouding his thinking, making him crazy: Percy House and his woman, Barbara Deppner. Percy, the pointer. They
had
to be the ones who talked to those two cops, Kane and Volkman.
Percy House had been the “foreman” of a gang Kuklinski used to run. They mainly did burglaries and car thefts. But there were a few killings, too. Kuklinski ended up having to kill the two workers in the gang, Barbara Deppner’s ex-husband, Danny, and her cousin Gary Smith. They had become weak and scared, and that made them liabilities. Percy House was stuck in jail at the time, so he couldn’t keep them in line, and Kuklinski could not risk having Danny Deppner and Gary Smith out of his control—they knew too much.
Barbara Deppner hadn’t exactly been an active member of the gang, but she always seemed to be around when things were going down and she had big ears. She and Percy had shacked up together with her eight kids when she was still married to Danny, and the word going around now was that the state had gotten to them. Kuklinski knew that the state police were very interested in him. And he was willing to bet that Percy and Barbara had spilled their guts to those two detectives—not completely, but just enough to keep their asses covered. Percy knew enough not to play all his aces. From what Kuklinski had heard, the state had even relocatedthe couple and given them new identities in exchange for their cooperation. But nobody hid from Richard Kuklinski. He had sources, he’d find them. And when he did, he’d have to get rid of them fast and quiet—no guns, no blood. That was why he needed cyanide. To take care of a couple of rats.
Kuklinski pressed his lips together and shook his head. Too bad he had gotten rid of “Mister Softee.” At the time he didn’t realize that you had to sign papers to buy pure cyanide and that it was sold only to companies that had a legitimate use for it. He couldn’t risk trying to get it for himself, not now, not that way. The state cops would love to catch him buying cyanide. Somehow “Mister Softee” had never seemed to have any problem getting it. Kuklinski sucked his teeth and shook his head. If he’d only known.
He stared at the late-afternoon light coming through the blinds as he sorted it all out in his mind. The way he saw it he would first have to do the coke deal with Dominick Provenzano just to gain his trust; actually he didn’t even need the stuff, but he wouldn’t have any problem getting rid of it. Then once Dominick got him the cyanide, he’d do Percy and Barbara, get those two rats out of his life. Then he’d arrange a nice arms deal with Dominick, something big. He’d string Dominick along for a while, put the guy off a couple of times just to make him hungrier, then he would tell him he was having problems, that he was sorry but he was going to have to up the price a little. Maybe tell him he could get him something better to make the guy good and crazy. Finally he would tell Dominick to meet him someplace, Sposato’s warehouse maybe. He’d tell him to bring cash. When Dominick showed up with the money,
boom!
One right in the back of the head. Stick his body in a steel drum, fill it with cement, then make it disappear. Nice and neat.
Kuklinski grinned at the thought of telling Sposato they’d be splitting a million in cash, maybe
He was going to be needing Sposato a little while longer because there was still money to be made with him, gun money. Dominick Provenzano had just given Sposato a new lease on life. Kuklinski’s fingernail clicked down the notches as he thought this all out, considering all the angles.
Dominick wanted heavy steel, military weapons. Sposato had access to all kinds of weapons. If Dominick was on the up-and-up, he could make a nice profit brokering Sposato’s merchandise to him.
But there was one thing Kuklinski had to take care of first, something that had been bothering him for a long time, clouding his thinking, making him crazy: Percy House and his woman, Barbara Deppner. Percy, the pointer. They
had
to be the ones who talked to those two cops, Kane and Volkman.
Percy House had been the “foreman” of a gang Kuklinski used to run. They mainly did burglaries and car thefts. But there were a few killings, too. Kuklinski ended up having to kill the two workers in the gang, Barbara Deppner’s ex-husband, Danny, and her cousin Gary Smith. They had become weak and scared, and that made them liabilities. Percy House was stuck in jail at the time, so he couldn’t keep them in line, and Kuklinski could not risk having Danny Deppner and Gary Smith out of his control—they knew too much.
Barbara Deppner hadn’t exactly been an active member of the gang, but she always seemed to be around when things were going down and she had big ears. She and Percy had shacked up together with her eight kids when she was still married to Danny, and the word going around now was that the state had gotten to them. Kuklinski knew that the state police were very interested in him. And he was willing to bet that Percy and Barbara had spilled their guts to those two detectives—not completely, but just enough to keep their asses covered. Percy knew enough not to play all his aces. From what Kuklinski had heard, the state had even relocatedthe couple and given them new identities in exchange for their cooperation. But nobody hid from Richard Kuklinski. He had sources, he’d find them. And when he did, he’d have to get rid of them fast and quiet—no guns, no blood. That was why he needed cyanide. To take care of a couple of rats.
Kuklinski pressed his lips together and shook his head. Too bad he had gotten rid of “Mister Softee.” At the time he didn’t realize that you had to sign papers to buy pure cyanide and that it was sold only to companies that had a legitimate use for it. He couldn’t risk trying to get it for himself, not now, not that way. The state cops would love to catch him buying cyanide. Somehow “Mister Softee” had never seemed to have any problem getting it. Kuklinski sucked his teeth and shook his head. If he’d only known.
He stared at the late-afternoon light coming through the blinds as he sorted it all out in his mind. The way he saw it he would first have to do the coke deal with Dominick Provenzano just to gain his trust; actually he didn’t even need the stuff, but he wouldn’t have any problem getting rid of it. Then once Dominick got him the cyanide, he’d do Percy and Barbara, get those two rats out of his life. Then he’d arrange a nice arms deal with Dominick, something big. He’d string Dominick along for a while, put the guy off a couple of times just to make him hungrier, then he would tell him he was having problems, that he was sorry but he was going to have to up the price a little. Maybe tell him he could get him something better to make the guy good and crazy. Finally he would tell Dominick to meet him someplace, Sposato’s warehouse maybe. He’d tell him to bring cash. When Dominick showed up with the money,
boom!
One right in the back of the head. Stick his body in a steel drum, fill it with cement, then make it disappear. Nice and neat.
Kuklinski grinned at the thought of telling Sposato they’d be splitting a million in cash, maybe
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