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  "Who's who?"

  "The platinum blond over there. The one with the black dress and the…"

  "Plunging neckline?"

  "Yeah. That one," Freddie said and grinned.

  "Come on. I'll introduce you. She's sweet."

  Gina took Freddie by the arm, but before she could pull him away from his spot by the phone, where his feet seemed suddenly stuck, Maria interrupted her.

  "Hey," Maria said, "the place is crawlin' with guys! I thought we said girls only!"

  Gina gave Maria a quick hug. "We can't help it. They can't stay away from us! I've got to go introduce Freddie to Celeste." She yanked Freddie away from the phone and pulled him into the living room.

  Maria put her hands on her hips. There were a couple of dozen people crammed into the apartment, talking, drinking, listening to music coming over the radio. The buzz and chatter of talk was so loud she could hardly hear herself think. She glanced around the room at the dozen or so men chatting with each other or with the girls, then found a slip of paper in her purse, placed it on the counter beside the phone, and dialed Patsy's new number.

  11:45 p.m.

  It's probably Maria." Patsy crossed the room, picked up the phone, listened, exchanged a few words, and hung up. "Sorry," he said, speaking into the kitchen, where Vince and Mike were seated around the table with Loretto, Paul Martone, and Jimmy Brennan.

  Vince had shown up a half hour earlier with Paul and Jimmy in tow. They had news about the Evangelistas. The brothers were on their way to Argentina. They'd left a message with Florence, since they hadn't known how to find Vince. They'd said to tell the boys they were sorry, but it was too hot for them now that they'd killed a cop. They had family in Argentina who would take them in and set them up in business—and that was where they were heading. Florence had called Vince with the news, half hysterical, convinced they'd all wind up in jail now that a New York City detective had been killed. Vince had told Florence and Joe to pack up and go on vacation for a while. He'd stopped by their place, given them money, and sent them off to Niagara Falls. "They weren't doing much for us anyway," Vince had told the boys, and they'd all lifted a drink to that. Then he'd laid out a few lines of coke on the table. "We're losing manpower, though," he'd told them, "with the Evangelistas gone, Domini laid up, and now Florence and Joe." He'd snorted a line of coke and Mike had joined him. "We're gonna have to look around again," he'd said, meaning they were going to have to recruit new members for the gang.

  "I know you said not to give anyone our numbers . . ." Patsy was talking to Vince. "I figure it's Maria, though," he said. "I can trust her."

  Vince said, "If the cops get the number, they can figure out where we are." He shook his head, trying to clear his senses. "Did you tell her not to write it down?"

  "Sure." Patsy joined the boys in the kitchen and poured himself a drink. "I told her to memorize it and not to call unless it was important."

  "So what's so important?" Loretto asked. He had just finished off the last of Mike's bread. He wiped away strawberry jam from the corner of his mouth.

  Patsy grinned but didn't answer.

  "What's the deal?" Vince slid his chair back, suddenly curious.

  Jimmy Brennan reached for the shotgun. He said, "Want me to beat it out of him, boss?" and drew a laugh.

  "It ain't nothin'. She's at a party over at your sister's place," Patsy said to Mike.

  "Gina's having a party?"

  "Yeah," Patsy said. "They're celebratin' because Maria finally dumped her old man for me, and she's moved in with Gina till things settle down and we can get our own place."

  Paul Martone straightened out his bow tie. He was the only one of the gang not drinking, smoking tea, doing coke, or indulging in all three. "What a dish like that is doing with a dope like you, I'll never understand."

  "Tell you the truth, I can't figure it out, either," Patsy said, and everyone laughed.

  "Who's at this party?" Vince asked. "Any other good-looking dames?"

  "It was supposed to be girls only," Patsy said, "but then a bunch of mugs started showing up. That's why she called me. She wanted me to come to the party."

  "What'd you tell her?" Vince found the bottle of bourbon and refilled his glass.

  "What do you think? I told her nothin' doing. I'm with the boys."

  "What mugs are at this party?" Loretto asked, and the way he asked it made it clear he didn't like the idea of other guys showing up at Gina's place, party or not.

  Vince turned to Loretto. "Maybe we should go see for ourselves."

  "Now you're talkin'!" Paul was out of his chair and heading toward his coat, which was hanging from a hall tree in the living room.

  "Don't be crazy," Loretto said. "We can't show up at a party with Dutch and the cops all looking for us."

  "Ah, let's live a little," Paul said to Vince. "This is getting tired being cooped up like this."

  Vince thought about it for a couple of seconds and then got up from his seat. To Loretto he said, "Nobody's gonna spot us. And Paul's right. We all need a little fun."

  "But what if someone does?"

  "Nobody will," Vince said, his mind made up. "And if they do, we'll kill 'em."

  Paul and the rest of the gang laughed.

  Loretto said to Mike, "What do you think about this?"

  Mike looked a little worried at first, but then he shook it off. "It'll be fine," he said. "Nobody's gonna spot a couple of cars driving to the Bronx."

  Patsy chimed in. "Come on," he said to Loretto, "let's go see our girls."

  "Count me out," Jimmy Brennan said. "I ain't one for parties."

  "You're too old for the dames that'll be there anyway, Jimmy," Paul said.

  "I won't argue with you there. I'm not much for anything but a whore now and then anyway."

  "You'll get over that," Vince said. "Give yourself time." He was in the living room with the rest of the boys, bundling up in their coats and scarves, fixing their hats the way they liked them. He meant that Jimmy would eventually get over the loss of his wife and family.

  "How do you know she wants the rest of us there?" Loretto said to Patsy. "She only invited you, right?"

  Patsy said, "You know Gina wants to see you, Loretto."

  "And she's my sister," Mike said.

  Vince said, "And who's gonna keep me out?"

  The gang all laughed with Vince and then followed him through the door.

  Loretto was the last one out. Before he pulled the door closed behind him, he looked back to Jimmy. "Will you be all right?"

  "Sure," Jimmy said. He held up a bottle of whiskey. "I got all the company I need."

  "We'll see you later, then." Loretto followed the rest of the gang out the door, down to the street, and out into the frigid cold.

  Monday - February 1, 1932

  12:00 a.m.

  Dorothy Dunbar smiled and winked at Owen while Max Baer, sitting alongside her at Owen's private table, focused his attention on a line of young dancers prancing to the stage. The club was noisy and busy for a Sunday night, and patrons kept walking by the table trying to get a better look at the hulking boxer and his movie-star wife. Owen was starting to ask Max about his last fight when Frenchy came up behind him and whispered in his ear.

  "Excuse me," Owen said to Dorothy. To Max he said, "Business." He slid out of his seat, and Frenchy took his place at the table.

  In the hallway at the foot of the stairs leading to his office, Owen found Jimmy Brennan waiting, his homburg pulled down so far over his face it might as well have been a mask. Owen snatched the hat from Jimmy's head. "This better be good."

  "It's better than good," Jimmy said, and the two men climbed the stairs together and disappeared into Owen's office.

  12:20 a.m.

  Augie huddled in a corner of the kitchen with Gina and Loretto. Vince had shown up at the party a few minutes earlier with his gang

  in tow. Maria had opened the door and squealed at the sight of Patsy. She'd thrown her arms around
his neck and kicked up her heels. While she dangled from Patsy's neck, the boys made their way into the living room and by the time Augie, who'd been in the kitchen with Gina, realized what was happening, it was too late: Vince and his gang were there at the party, pouring themselves drinks, laughing and telling stories to the girls, who surrounded them as if they were movie stars. Vince had a quartet of women around him, hanging on his every word. Patsy was on one side of the couch with Maria in his lap, next to Freddie on the other side with Celeste. Paul and Mike were by the radio, lighting cigarettes for a couple of dames Gina only knew as friends of one of her friends from work.

  Mike edged away from Paul and the girls. He took a couple of backward steps toward the kitchen, where he had spotted Augie taking Loretto in one hand and Gina in the other and pulling them along behind him.

  In the kitchen, Augie said, "Get them out of here." He held Loretto firmly by the arm.

  Before Loretto could respond, Mike pushed his way into their circle. "Jesus Christ, Augie." He snatched Loretto's arm away from Augie. "Relax, will you? And lower your voice. The last thing I need is for you to get into a beef with Vince."

  "You want me to lower my voice?" Augie said, loud, almost shouting.

  Gina said, "Augie, a brawl won't solve anything."

  Behind them, Vince entered the kitchen. He spotted Augie, Mike, and Gina with Loretto, the four of them huddled up as if in a private conference. "Augie," he said when Augie turned in his direction.

  Mike looked to Gina as if about to ask her to intercede before Augie said something stupid—but he hadn't managed to get out a word before he was interrupted by the loud, cracking sound of the front door being kicked open, followed instantly by gunfre, several guns fring in rapid succession, not the rat-a-tat-tat of choppers but close to it.

  Vince and Mike rushed to the living room, guns already out of their holsters.

  Loretto spun around and threw Augie into Gina, knocking them both off their feet. He overturned the kitchen table and pushed it in front of them as a barricade, the food and drinks crashing to the floor. In the next instant, he had his gun out, and when he turned around he saw that Mike had been hit and was sprawled across the kitchen floor, blood spilling out of him and mixing with the spilled liquor and beer, the broken glass and scattered food.

  Vince knelt over Mike, a gun in each hand, fring into the living room.

  Loretto joined Vince shoulder to shoulder and got off a couple of shots at a pair of masked figures who quickly backed out of his line of vision. They were young guys wearing long overcoats and fedoras, bandanas tied over their faces like stagecoach robbers in a movie Western. There were more gunmen somewhere behind them. The living room had emptied of everyone but the dead and wounded. Both windows were open and a freezing wind blew through the apartment, which was suddenly cold as an icebox. Through one window, Loretto caught the bright flash of a white dress descending the fire escape ladder. Through the second window, he saw Paul Martone's body on the fire escape, facedown and unmoving. On the far side of the couch, Maria was draped over Patsy as if she had flung herself on top of him, trying to shield him from the bullets. She'd been shot in the back several times: her blouse, a red smear, looked like a soaked-through bandage. Patsy was slumped under her, half his face turned to a bloody pulp. Alongside them, reversing their positions, Freddie was draped over a girl with platinum-blond hair. Freddie, like Maria, had been shot in the back, but he'd also taken a bullet to the top of his head, and blood dripped down out of his hair and onto the unmoving figure beneath him.

  From someplace out of his line of sight, a voice yelled, "Mad Dog! Time to put you down!"

  Vince responded by leaping to his feet and fring blindly as he jumped backward to a sitting position on a counter and opened the kitchen window. "Hold on," he yelled back. "I'll be with you in a second. Just got to make sure I've got a full clip." He motioned for Loretto to go out the window.

  Loretto stood, fred twice in the direction of the voice, and started toward Augie and Gina where they were hunched down behind the overturned table, Gina looking paralyzed with fear, Augie holding her in his arms. Before he reached them, Vince, who was already sliding backward toward the open window, grabbed him by his coat and tried to pull him along with him.

  "Go!" Gina yelled when she saw that Loretto was resisting. "Get out of here!"

  When Loretto ignored her, she struggled free of Augie's grasp and pushed him toward the window. She yelled, "Get out before they kill you," and the words were hardly out of her mouth before a bullet hit her in the face, spinning her around. As she fell to the floor, Vince fred back at the figure who had just shot her.

  Loretto tried to kneel to Gina, but Vince yanked him up and toward the window. He held Loretto by the neck in the crook of his arm, and with his free hand he aimed and squeezed off shots at figures that appeared and disappeared in the shadows of the living room.

  In Vince's grasp, Loretto could hardly breathe, but he continued to struggle until Augie, who was holding a towel to Gina's face, pushed him away.

  "Go!" Augie yelled. "Get out! It's you they're after!" He picked up Mike's gun and fred a shot through the kitchen wall.

  Loretto struggled to breathe. When the apartment started to waver and spin, his legs went weak and Vince lifted him bodily and pulled him out through the window. There were more gunshots then, and he saw that it was Augie, kneeling over Gina, next to Mike, shooting with one hand and holding the bloody towel to her face with the other.

  From the living room, someone yelled, "They're going out the window!" and then there was the noise of footsteps rushing down the stairs toward the street as Vince grabbed Loretto under his arms and pulled him onto the fire escape. He dragged him down the steps and pushed him to a ladder that ratcheted them down to a dark alley. As soon as they hit the ground, Vince took off running, pulling Loretto behind him.

  For Loretto, as they raced through alleys, leaping fences, charging around corners, speeding through the maze of the city's narrow passages and cramped yards in the dark of night, an old instinct kicked in. How many times had he done this growing up on the streets—torn through alleys and yards at night, being chased or giving chase? It was familiar to him, this rush of speed, and he let himself concentrate on it. He told himself that Augie was with Gina. He put the picture of her falling, her face a sudden swell of blood, out of mind. Mike on the kitchen floor, Patsy and Freddie on the couch, Paul on the fire escape—all of these images he put out of mind. Running beside Vince, he quit thinking. He ran to keep up with Vince, to leap and sprint, to keep moving. It was something he was good at, and he did it with Vince beside him, the two of them tearing through the dark.

  12:30 a.m.

  They came out on 2nd Avenue, across from a tenement building with a

  rat-hole speakeasy in the basement. They both knew the place. The street was deserted and they leaned close to each other against a brick wall, in the shadow of a sandstone stoop with a pair of matching gargoyles on either side of the steps, the monstrous figures glaring out at the street. The apartment windows up and down the block were uniformly dark. Loretto didn't know what time it was, but he figured it was late, a Sunday night, and these tenements were home to working stiffs, guys with families, guys who had to get up in the morning and drag themselves to their jobs. Still, that there wasn't a single light on spooked him. The street was quiet as the end of the world.

  He crouched down deeper in the shadows and Vince did the same. Their breath issued from them in long white streams. Neither had said a word since they had come out of the alley, jumped a wooden fence, and hid themselves in the comforting shadows of a stoop. Their hard breathing eased some while they rested, and then the sound of a car approaching, rolling slowly along 2nd Avenue, still out of sight on the other side of the stoop, set them both on edge, crouched, ready to run. There were four garbage pails in a cramped space under the stoop. Vince pulled two of them out quickly, lifting them so they wouldn't scrape along the sidewalk. By
the time the car passed, creeping along the avenue, two men in front, two in back, peering out the windows, Vince and Loretto were hidden behind the garbage pails, under the stoop and out of sight. Five minutes later, a second car passed, again cruising slowly as four men scanned the sidewalks.

  "They'll give up in a while," Vince said. He took his gun from his holster, reexamined the empty clip, and slipped it back as if it had disappointed him.

  Loretto's holster was empty. He'd dropped his gun when Vince pulled him through the kitchen window. "It's freezing," he said.

  "That it is." Vince fell back against the wall, pulled his knees to his chin, and wrapped his arms around his legs.

  Loretto sat next to Vince, close to him for the warmth. "I don't think we'll make it till morning," he said. "We'll probably freeze to death."