The G men’s plan had more holes than Swiss cheese. But Johnny was game. Just the thought of putting even a few of these killers behind bars made it worth it. As for taking down the mob itself; that was a long shot. He took the BMT line toward Brooklyn but got off at the City Hall stop, crossing the street to City Hall Park, and sat down on a bench. In mid-January, with the winds coming from east river, it didn’t get much colder than the spot he had selected, even the pigeons were looking for a place to warm up. Johnny was too damn worried to feel the cold. Just how am I going to pull off this deception? He thought to himself. He worried how he was going to play his new role with his family, Angie and Annabel—and the captain. He had argued that Farentino should be made aware of his turn to crime, in case he got pulled in. Miller had given him his best smile and said, “That would be a plus, Johnny. If they kept you in the tank for more than a couple of days, we would make sure that Farentino got word from on high to let you loose.
“A couple of days?”
Johnny thought about his last run in with the cops.
He was pulled from his introspection when an old lady, so stooped that she looked like she was reaching down for something, seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Flowers?”
She was wrapped in coat that looked like it wouldn’t be warm enough in a brisk March day, no less this artic weather.
“Flowers? For your sweetheart,” said the lady.
The old woman grabbed a bunch and stuck her hand, six inches from Johnny’s face. The skin on her hands was so translucent the he could see her veins, blue and fragile.
“Twenty-five cents,” she said, and looked at him with such clear eyes that it startled Johnny and for the second time in a single moment, he found himself staring once again. He reached into his pocket and fished out a dollar bill.
“Keep the change,” he said. “Bless you,” said the old woman and just as fast as she arrived, she was gone. Johnny watched her walk over to a couple that were huddled together. He saw the old woman reach out for another bunch from her basket and stick it in between the two lovers. He could just faintly hear her say, “Flowers? For your sweetheart.”
In 1948 there were flower ladies on every other corner of the city. Even in Brooklyn Heights, which was pretty much a small town, you could always find “Lilly the Flower Girl” all dolled up to sell her flowers on Friday and Saturday night on the corner of Montague and Henry Street. Lilly had a photo of a young showgirl that had been taken at least forty years before, scotch taped to a fake pearl necklace. She had gotten old, but still had that same beaming smile.
This is going to be temporary, Johnny thought to himself, a couple of months at most, and that if he really wanted to solve Vinnie’s murder and actually make a dent in the mob’s vise like grip on the unions, he was going to have to summon up everything he had and get it done. He got up let out a long breath and left the park walking toward the pedestrian walkway on the Brooklyn Bridge.
“Remember, no one, no one, can know about this,” he heard Miller whisper in his ear.
But that wasn’t exactly the way Johnny was going to work this. He was all in with
the FBI, but that didn’t mean he could totally trust them. He needed someone on the outside if things went sideways, and he really wasn’t going to put all his trust in the FBI, after all they were after the bad guys, and Johnny could be chalked up as collateral damage. Johnny would keep mum to everyone, Toni, his family; everyone except for Lukas Tobias, editor of the Evening Sun. Lukas would have a stake in Johnny’s success, a pretty big stake. Johnny didn’t need a good friend as much as he needed a good ally. He wouldn’t tell Lukas right away, but he would once he got in with the mob—if he got in at all. Then Johnny did something he hadn’t down since he was fifteen years old, he got up and walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Back in Brooklyn Johnny decided to treat himself to a big lunch at Foffe’s restaurant on Montague Street. He walked down the few steps to the front door and was greeted by one of the Foffe brothers.
“Hey Johnny, Che sorpresa! What a surprise!”
“Hi Al, how’s business?
Alfred gave him a sheepish grin, “Gli affari vanno sempre bene! Business is always good!”
“Sorry to hear about your mom,” said Johnny.
Al bowed his head and made the sign of the cross. Adesso è con Dio, she’s with God now.
It was 3pm before Johnny walked out of the famous restaurant, ambled over to Court Street, walked upstairs to his office, went into the back room and flopped down on his bed. He was fast asleep in under a minute. He hadn’t gotten much sleep after the invasion of the G men the day before and needed to be in top shape for the first step he’d take into the darkness.
He didn’t wake up until 9pm. Then he took a shower and a much-needed shave. He put on his best suit and was out the door by 9:45. Downstairs, he stopped by the bar. It was pretty full, this being Saturday night. While Angie’s couldn’t be called a ‘hot spot’ she had her regulars and got some of the more adventurous couples who’d also eaten at Foffe’s or at Stella’s Pizzeria, down the street. Angie called him over.
“Hey Johnny. What did the G men want?” She made no apologies for giving him up and as far as Johnny was concerned, she didn’t need to.
“Nothing much. They knew I was friends with Freddie Jackson over at the Sun and was just crossing some T’s and dotting some I’s.”
Vicky looked at Johnny with a sideways glance that said, Okay, I won’t ask, it’s your business. Johnny threw a smile Angie’s way, then walked out and hailed a cab.
Once inside he said, “You know where the Blossom Room is?
The cabbie looked at Johnny in his rear-view mirror.
“I don’t drive this cab for fun buddy, of course I know where the joint is.”
“Good,” said Johnny, “drop me off three blocks before we get there.”
The cabbie pulled the flag down on the meter and said, “Okay buddy, whatever you want.”
When the cab pulled up on 53rd and Broadway, Johnny eyed his license, the head shot showed a balding man, mid-forties. The name was Bernie Langston. As Johnny paid the fare along with a very generous tip, he asked, “Hey Bernie, are these your usual hours?”
Bernie turned to face Johnny, “Six to 2am, six days a week.”
“I could use a dependable cabbie,” Johnny added a double sawbuck to the tip, “You up to working for me in a as needed basis?”
Bernie took a long look at Johnny, then at the cash in his hand, “That could be arranged,” he said, “but I’m not doing anything illegal and you’ll have to make up for the fares I lose when I’m working for you. And you’ll have to call me before I start out, since you won’t be able to reach me in the cab. I’ll check in before I start at Jerry’s Bar and Grill. Jerry’s a good guy, but you might have to throw him a couple of bucks though if we starting going steady.”
“No problem,” said Johnny.
The cabbie handed him a small piece of paper with his phone number.
“Ok then,” said Johnny.
“Ok then, said the cabbie.
Johnny got out and ducked into a non-descript diner. He was still full from his meal at Foffe’s, but knew he’d have to order something. He was sitting at a booth in the very back of the place, though there were plenty of empty booths up front. The place had seen better days. The blinds were dirty, the table’s Formica top was chipped and coffee stained. When the waitress came to the table, she looked bored and tired. She wiped off the table in a roundhouse motion that missed every single crumb left by the last customer. He wondered if they taught that in waitress school.
“What’ll have?” she asked in a perfect Bensonhurst accent.
“Coffee,” he answered, then looked over at the counter, “and a piece of that cherry pie.”
Without missing a beat, the waitress yelled, “Hey Harry, cut a piece of the cherry pie, will ya?”
Johnny spent an hour and a half in the diner, getting sporadic dirty looks from the waitress. But business was slow so nobody bothered him. At 11:45 Johnny got up, threw a ten spot on the table, and gave the frowning waitress a big smile as he left. He walked the three blocks to the Blossom Room. The doorman/security guy gave Johnny a surprised look.
The place was busy, lots of slick looking men smoking expensive cigars, lots of women with too much make-up and perfect bodies. Victor Gaglioni was talking to some customers when he caught sight of Johnny.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he said to the table.
He walked over to Johnny. “You’re the last person I would expect to see, Johnny. You out to get another beating?” As if on cue Marvin the Giant began to move toward the two.
“Not tonight, Victor, if you don’t mind,” Johnny said eyeing Marvin, “I just want to talk.”
Victor looked Johnny up and down, “About what?”
By this time Marvin had reached the two. He looked at Johnny, then at Victor.
“You want me to throw him out?” he asked his boss. Johnny looked up at the giant, “Hi Marvin, didn’t beat up enough guys yet tonight?”
Victor interrupted, “What’s your game Johnny?”
“No game. I just have a little business I want to discuss.”
Victor raised an eyebrow.
“Business? What kind of business would we have to talk about?”
“Give me ten minutes, Victor, in private.”
The mobster seemed to think about this, then said, “Okay Johnny, ten minutes, then I’ll let Marvin throw you out.”
The two men walked through the main room to Victor’s office. Victor walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink.
“I’d offer you a drink, Johnny, but you won’t be here long enough.”
They sat in opposite leather club chairs.
“Okay,” said Johnny, “then I’ll get to the point.” He pulled out a paper from his inside pocket and handed it to Victor.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the day, time and location of the next secret union meeting.”
Peter Williams had given Johnny the information.
“We doubt very much that mob will do any damage right now, things are pretty hot since the Jackson hit. But we’ll have our men close but out of sight if something does happen.”
Johnny wasn’t so sure about this, “You mean you’ll be right there after someone gets hit?”
Williams said calmly, “We think that’s unlikely.”
Tell that to the guys’ widow, Johnny had thought to himself.
Victor looked at Johnny.
“Why are you giving me this? What’s your angle?”
Johnny stood up, lit his first Lucky of the day.
“In the past few weeks, I’ve been drowning in dead guys, I’ve been beaten up, nearly shot along with Danny Alonzo. I’ve been so busy trying to get some retribution for Vinnie, I’ve lost two jobs and have zero prospects.”
“So?”
“So. I’m tired Vic, and I’m broke. I fought against the Japs and almost lost my life. All I got out of the army was a medal, and a photo in the Daily News.”
With a knock the door opened and Marvin stuck his head in, “You want I throw this bum out boss?”
Victor waved his hand dismissively, “Not yet Marvin, I’ll call you if I need you.”
“Okay, whatever you say, boss.”
Victor looked at the scrap of paper.
“What do you really want, Johnny?”
“I want to join your crew, Victor.” Victor didn’t blink. He reached into his inside pocket and took out his gold cigarette case. He pulled out a match from a sterling silver match holder on his desk and lit a cigarette. He blew out the match, took a long drag and let out three perfect smoke rings. For the first time since meeting the gangster, Johnny was impressed.
A half minute passed before Victor said, “I know you’re tough, Johnny, and I know about the war hero stuff too. But you’re a wise ass, and you’ve been pretty stubborn about getting revenge for Santelli’s murder, so it’s hard for me to buy your story, Johnny. Real hard. What’s the angle?”
“How about that drink now Victor?”
Victor smiled, but his eyes were hard.
“Sure, Johnny,” and he poured out the amber liquid into a cut crystal glass and handed it to Johnny, who took a long pull of the scotch, grabbed a coaster and set it down. He unbuttoned his top button and loosened his tie.
“The suit I’m wearing is the only one I own. My only other good white shirt is full of blood from being scratched in the neck by a sixteen-year-old rich brat who also kicked me in the balls when I delivered her to her rich parents in Oyster Bay. I left with a hundred and fifty bucks in my pocket, fifty going toward the buck fifty I owe my landlord. My little adventure with your boy, Marvin ended with me riding the subway, alone in a car during rush hour because I smelled like a sewer.”
Johnny paused and took another long sip of this drink.
“I’m done Victor. Finished with getting my head knocked around, or shot and ending up with my pockets filled with nothing but loose change and more often than not a pissed off client even after doing the job I was hired for.”
“Okay Johnny, I’ll maybe buy what you’re saying, but why me?” said Victor, “let’s be real Johnny, I know you don’t like me. Why do you come to me?”
Johnny smiled. “I could give you a load of crap, but I won’t. I guess the first thing is that I didn’t care whether I liked you or not, and the second more important reason Victor, is you’re the only real gangster I know.”
Victor met Johnny’s eyes. No words were spoken. Then he picked up the phone.
“Tell Marvin to come to the office.”
Johnny’s stomach dropped like a broken elevator, but he kept a straight face.
Marvin knocked and then came into the office.
“You want I should take care of him now, boss? He asked.
“Nah,” said Victor. “Sit down for a moment, Marvin,” said Victor.
Marvin, looked confused, he had never actually sat down in Victor’s office.
Victor pointed to a chair, “Over here.”
Then Victor took his chair behind his desk.
“Johnny here, wants to join our crew,” said Victor.
“Huh?” said the giant man.
“He wants into our racket; he wants a piece of the pie.”
“Boss, let me throw this bum out,” Marvin started getting up out of the chair.
Victor raised his hand. “Not yet, Marvin. And not tonight.” He looked at Johnny, “maybe tomorrow when he comes back.”
Johnny wasn’t sure if this was good news or very bad news.
Victor got up and signaled to Johnny to do the same. He walked around the desk, “You come back tomorrow night. Same time. I want to make a few calls, check out your story,” he nodded to Marvin who was now standing, “maybe we’ll talk or maybe I’ll have Marvin over here rearranged your face. Still want in?”
Johnny gave the man his toughest tough guy look, which at best was a five out of a possible ten in the tough guy business.
“I’ll be here,” said Johnny.
“Okay.” Victor turned to Marvin, “Show Mr. Stone out, Marvin.”
Marvin went to grab Johnny by his elbow.
“Gently, Marvin. Go out the front and tell Jimmy to find Mr. Stone a cab.
