Toughs Page 26

  "Well, you heard wrong," Dutch said.

  Bo said, "He got to the jury. I know you hate the guy," he said to Dutch, "but you have to admit he's good. Son of a bitch lands on his feet every time."

  "I don't have to admit nothin'." Dutch picked up his sandwich and put it down again. "Big Owney's worried," he said to Luciano.

  "Yeah, you told me. That's why we're here." Luciano took a drag on his cigarette and tapped the ash off into his saucer. Lucille, the waitress, came back with Dutch's Alka-Seltzer. "Sweetheart," Luciano said to her, "can you bring us an ashtray?" Lucille snatched a couple of ashtrays from the booth behind them. "Sorry, Mr. Luciano."

  "That's okay, but be a sweetheart and leave us a little privacy."

  "Go on, scram!" Dutch said when Lucille didn't move fast enough.

  Lucille scurried away nearly in tears. Bo said to Dutch, "You've got no tact. What do you want to go and yell at the kid for? What'd she do to you?"

  "Ain't he sensitive?" Dutch said to Luciano, gesturing to Bo.

  "Can we cut out the comedy?" Luciano said. "What's Madden want from me, and why'd you ask me to bring Henry along?"

  "Yeah," Henry said. "What am I doing here with you big shots?"

  Bo said, "Dutch is thinking, maybe Diamond's feeling lucky, what with getting off when the odds were against him and all."

  "So?" Luciano looked to Dutch.

  "So," Bo continued, "if he's feeling lucky, maybe he'll let his guard down. We hear he's having a party tonight, celebrating his acquittal."

  Luciano said, "I still don't see what that's got to do with me."

  "You won't proft with Jack Diamond out of the picture?" Dutch picked up his sandwich and took a bite like the thing was alive and he meant to kill it. "That's what it's got to do with you," he said with his mouth full.

  Bo said, "We're thinking me and Henry should take a ride up to Albany tonight, see what we might see, while Jack's still in a party mood."

  "Why me?" Henry asked.

  "'Cause last Jack heard, you were one of Maranzano's boys. He won't get the picture if he sees you, if he even recognizes you at all."

  "But if he sees Bo . . ." Dutch said.

  "I don't get it," Henry said to Luciano. "You said this was about the Coll kid."

  "It is," Luciano said.

  When it appeared no one else was going to do Henry the courtesy of explaining, Bo said, "Madden's worried that Jack'll testify that Coll was with him when the Vengelli kid got it. He'd rather not see that happen."

  "Ah," Henry said. "You know your way around Albany?" he asked Bo. "'Cause might as well be Siberia far as I'm concerned."

  Bo ignored Henry's question. "How'd you wind up working for Charlie here anyway?" he asked. "Aren't you Castellammarese?"

  Then it was Henry's turn to ignore Bo.

  Luciano said, answering Bo's question, "We worked it out," and left it at that. He checked his wristwatch. "If that's the way it's gonna be, you boys should get on the road soon as we're finished here."

  "We're finished here," Dutch said. He pushed the remains of his sandwich away, dropped the two Alka-Seltzer tablets into a tumbler, and watched them fizz.

  "Next time," Luciano said, sliding out of the booth, "let's meet in the city."

  Dutch drank down the fizzing water and followed Bo, who was retrieving his overcoat. "Why? I like this place," he said to Luciano. "It's the lap of luxury."

  "Yeah, it's the Taj Mahal," Luciano said. He waited for Dutch to join him and they walked out together.

  "I get the honor of paying the bill," Bo said to Henry. "You ready to take a ride?"

  "Sure." Henry tapped his jacket. "But all I got with me is my pea- shooter."

  "I got what we need in the car," Bo said, and he called for Lucille. "Here you go, honey." He handed her a ten. "Keep the change."

  "Is Mr. Schultz mad at me?" Lucille asked.

  "Mr. Schultz is mad at everybody," Bo said, and he gestured for Henry to join him as he followed Dutch and Luciano to the door.

  Friday - December 18, 1931

  1:15 a.m.

  Bo tilted a half-empty bottle of Seagram's to his lips, downed a searing mouthful, and passed the bottle back to Henry, who did the same. They were parked in the shadows down the block from Packy's, a local speak where Jack and it looked like half of Albany were celebrating his acquittal. Bo recognized some of the figures trooping in and out of the building, including Coll's witchy big sister, Florence, and her husband, Joe—but most he'd never seen before or at least didn't recall. They looked to be a cross-section of Albany's populace, from bums to high society.

  "Some party," Henry said. He'd been in and out a few times already. Inside Packy's, Diamond was glad-handing and schmoozing, moving back and forth from the bar to a table where he sat with his wife and his lawyer. He couldn't be gotten to there without risking a massacre.

  Bo looked at his wristwatch. "Maybe you should go check again."

  "Sure." Henry didn't mind a reprieve from the boredom of sitting in the car and watching the street. He took another pull of the Seagram's, straightened himself out, and exited the car.

  Bo watched Henry disappear into Packy's, glanced down at the Seagram's, and screwed the cap on tight. He didn't want to be drunk. Not yet anyway. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to get anywhere near Diamond, but on the off chance he got lucky, he intended to be ready. How many mugs had tried to put Diamond in the ground over the years? Bo himself had put at least two bullets in him: one in the forehead and one in the chest, and Carmine Alberici put three more in him. Five bullets, one in the head, and the son of a bitch recovered and took a cruise to Europe. This was at the Hotel Monticello in 1929. It was early and Jack was in bed with his Kiki dame. The newspapers reported that gangsters burst through the door and sprayed the room with machine-gun fre, but what really happened was that Bo called up from the desk and Jack met them at the door in a fancy white robe, Kiki in bed behind him naked and exposed from the waist up, lying on her back with her eyes closed, her pretty head propped up on a pillow. When Jack saw Bo and Carmine, he said, "Let's go over to my room where we can talk in private." And that was what they did. They left Kiki in bed, went to a room across the hall, and Bo and Carmine filled Jack Diamond full of lead. Bo still remembered what he was thinking when he walked out of the hotel: I just killed Jack Diamond. I put a bullet in his head.

  Only it turned out he hadn't killed him. Dutch screamed at Carmine when the news hit that Jack survived: "Ain't there nobody that can shoot this guy so he don't bounce back?" This was the third time Jack had taken multiple bullets and walked away. Bo hadn't killed him in '29, and he doubted he'd get to him tonight, but it was worth a try. It wasn't that he didn't like the son of a bitch. At this point, it was the challenge and the reputation. He'd love to be the guy put an end to Jack Diamond.

  When Henry came out onto the street again, he was hurrying. "He ain't there," he told Bo. "He left. Must have gone out a back way."

  Bo looked to Packy's and watched a well-dressed couple enter the building. "The party's still hoppin'," he said. "Where'd he go?"

  "I asked his bodyguard—"

  "Who's his bodyguard?"

  "Big guy. Football player. They call him Shorty."

  "What'd he say?"

  "Nothin'. Asked me why I was askin'."

  Bo unscrewed the cap from the Seagram's. "He went out the back with his wife?"

  "His wife's still there. You're not lettin' me finish." Henry took a pull from the Seagram's and handed the bottle back to Bo. "I asked the bartender. He tells me Jack went to check on a death threat and he'll be right back."

  "A death threat?" Bo took a pull of the Seagram's, gave himself a second to think. "Since when's Jack Diamond run from a death threat?" He tapped his head like he was trying to jog loose an idea. "I don't like this." He retrieved his hat and ft it to his head with the brim down. "Let's go have a talk with this Shorty mug."

  "You'll be recognized." Henry went for the Seagram's, bu
t Bo snatched it away.

  "I'm not going in." Bo screwed the cap on the Seagram's and stuck it under the seat. "I'll wait in the alley. Bring him out to me."

  "What am I gonna tell him?"

  "Tell him there's a guy with a message from Big Owney for Jack, but he won't give it to anybody but Jack directly."

  "You're the big shot," Henry said. He obviously didn't much like the plan.

  Bo glanced to the back seat, where a pair of tommy guns were hidden under a bright red throw. He considered concealing one under his coat and decided against it.

  In the alley behind Packy's, a grimy crust of ice and snow lined all but a narrow walking path. A bare lightbulb under a metal half dome over the back door provided more light than was necessary. Bo smashed the bulb with the butt of his pistol and dropped back into the shadows near a couple of galvanized metal trash cans. Henry had gone in the front door. Bo thought about lighting up, decided against it, and then admitted he was a little nervous. That surprised him. He had put down enough men already that it was all business, just the nature of the bootlegger's world and everyone knew it. It was Jack Diamond making him nervous. The mug was as much a celebrity as the president of the United States. You couldn't open a newspaper without seeing a story about him, and the people loved him, probably because he kept getting shot and hauled off to jail and beating the bullets and the rap every time. Or maybe he didn't want to be the guy who killed Jack Diamond. Maybe that's what was bothering him.

  When the back door finally opened, a beast of a man walked out into the alley followed by Henry. The big guy had on a raccoon coat.

  "You O'Shaughnessy?" Shorty's hands were in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold.

  Bo answered by producing a pistol from his coat pocket and placing the barrel under Shorty's chin. "We got a few questions about your boss." He gestured to Henry, who yanked Shorty's hands out of the coat. He searched the pockets before giving Shorty a pat-down and finding a pistol in a hip holster.

  Bo pushed him down the alley.

  "Where we going?" Shorty went about buttoning his coat as if the cold bothered him more than the guns.

  "To have a little talk in my car, where it's nice and quiet." The big mug's face held a look of dull surprise that Bo associated with stupidity. "You're not too bright, are you, Shorty?"

  "Bright enough to get by. What do you mugs want with me anyway?"

  At the car, Bo opened the passenger door and pushed Shorty across the seat. He got in alongside him while Henry got behind the wheel and started the engine.

  "You don't mind if my partner drives while we talk, do you, Shorty?" Bo pressed the barrel of his pistol against Shorty's ribs.

  "What do you want to know? I'm no hero," he said. "Jack don't pay me enough to get myself killed on his account. You're Bo Weinberg, aren't you?" he added.

  "How'd you know?"

  "Seen your picture in the papers with Dutch and what's the other guy's name, the one that's good with numbers."

  "Abadabba," Henry said.

  "Yeah, him."

  "All we want to know," Bo said, "is where to find Jack and who might be with him. Give us the straight dope and we'll let you go. We got no beef with you."

  "I don't know where he is, but I can make a pretty good guess."

  "And where's that?" Bo asked.

  Shorty turned to Henry behind the wheel. "Where are you going?"

  "Be damned if I know," Henry answered. "I'm just driving."

  "Well, you're heading out of town," Shorty said. "Nothing up this way but farms and woods."

  Bo said, "What's that got to do with anything? You worried we're taking you for a ride? Thinkin' we're gonna put one in you out in the sticks?"

  "I'm not sayin' it ain't worrying me a little."

  "Why would we do that, Shorty?" Bo asked Henry, "Why would we want to harm this big guy?"

  "I got nothin' against him," Henry answered.

  Shorty said, "I thought it might have something to do with the Vince Coll trial."

  "What about it?" Bo was surprised at the mention of the trial.

  "I'm supposed to testify that I was with Coll when the Vengelli kid got it last summer. It's an alibi for Coll."

  Henry glanced over Shorty to Bo.

  "No kiddin'," Bo said. "Well, we don't know nothing about that."

  "Good," Shorty said. "So then why don't we turn around and head back into town?"

  Bo said, "You haven't told us where we can find Jack yet."

  Shorty leaned forward to look out the window. The road was in bad repair, with potholes and long cracks in the pavement. On either side of the car, stands of white pines rose up from a long white beach of trackless snow. The moon was bright enough to cast the skinny shadows of the trees on the snow feld. "Nothing out here but woods for miles around," Shorty said. "Woods and old logging trails." When neither Bo nor Henry said anything in reply, Shorty scratched his head. "So why not turn around?" he asked. "Jack's back the other way."

  "Yeah?" Bo tapped Shorty's ribs twice with the barrel of his pistol. "Where the other way?"

  "If you're gonna kill me out here, why should I tell you?"

  Henry said, "Relax, Shorty. We told you, we don't have a beef with you."

  "Then take me back to Packy's, buy me a drink, and I'll tell you where to find Jack."

  Bo and Henry both laughed.

  "What's so funny?" Shorty glanced down at the gun barrel pressed to his ribs and back up to Bo. "Turn the car around," he said, "or I got nothing to say."

  Shorty was taller and bulkier than Bo, but Bo was a big man himself, with a powerful chest and muscular arms—and he knew how to fight, been doing it since the day he was born, or at least it felt that way to him. "How do you know we're not here to help out Jack? Maybe we know something about that death threat made him scram from Packy's."

  "Nobody heard nothin' about no death threat." Shorty sneered as if disgusted with Bo's story. "That's just a story he used to get away from Alice. Otherwise she'd figure he was runnin' off to see Kiki."

  "So is that where he is?" Bo asked. "With Kiki?"

  Shorty's face tightened and went red. "I didn't say that."

  Bo said, "Yeah, I think you did." The car was coming up on an unmarked gravel road. "Pull over there," Bo said to Henry.

  Shorty looked back and forth from Henry to Bo, a hint of panic in his face. He glanced down at the gun barrel again.

  "Calm down," Bo said, "or you really are gonna go and get yourself killed."

  Henry turned onto the side road, and the car immediately lost traction on a glaze of ice. When he hit the brakes, it skidded a few feet off the road and came to rest against a wide tree trunk. Shorty's breaths were coming short and shallow. He sounded like he was sick with a fever.

  "Jesus," Henry said. He cut the engine and a massive silence settled over the car. "We're gonna have to get out and push."

  "I ain't getting out of the car," Shorty said. He added, crazily, "It's cold out there."

  "Listen," Bo said, and for the first time in the evening he raised his voice, "we're not here to kill you, Shorty, understand? But we sure as hell aren't taking you back to Packy's. Use your head, will you? You're going to tell us where to find Jack, and then we're leaving you out here. By the time you make it back to town, we'll be all done with what we came all the fuck the way out here to do. You got it? You understand now? Calm down. We got no reason to kill you."

  As Henry listened to Bo, he smiled slightly as if in admiration.

  "You're leavin' me here?" Shorty looked out the car window again, to the moonlit woods surrounding them. "It's miles back to the last house we passed."

  "It ain't that cold," Henry said.

  "You got good shoes and that coat looks like it'd keep you warm in Alaska," Bo said. "You'll be fine."

  Shorty scratched his head and his breathing settled a bit. He coughed into his hand. "All right," he said. "But I hate the fuckin' cold."

  "Jack's with Kiki," Bo said.
"And where can we find Kiki?"

  "Twenty-one Broeck Street. She's got the upstairs apartment. The

  bedroom window looks out to the street. That's where they'll be. In the bedroom."

  "Now we got that over with," Henry said, "help us push the car back onto the road."

  "Sure," Shorty said. He was suddenly a new man, comfortable and at ease. "That won't be no trouble at all."

  Henry got out first, followed by Bo and Shorty. The three of them stood in the cold and silence. Henry looked up to the stars, which were so much brighter and bigger there than in the city, and Bo took a few steps back into the woods.