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  "Yeah, but that's not what I'm talking about." Dutch pushed his chair back and turned to get a better look at Loretto and Dom. "I don't like the way you're pulling a big surprise on us," he said without taking his eyes off the boys. "It ain't copacetic."

  Maranzano looked to Charlie Lucky.

  "It ain't all right," Charlie translated. To Dutch he said, "It won't hurt nothing to hear them out."

  Richie Cabo was still red in the face. He pointed to the boys and said, "You're both dead men! You hear me?"

  Maranzano's face paled at Cabo's outburst, and Bo Weinberg put his hand on Cabo's shoulder. He said, "He's angry, Don Maranzano. That's all it is."

  In Italian Luciano said, with his eyes on Cabo, "Richie's got a bad temper. Sometimes it gets him in trouble."

  Cabo turned his attention to the walnut in his hand. He cracked it and sat down and went about peeling it without a word, but the gesture was a retreat, and it seemed to satisfy Maranzano.

  Dutch said, "Okay, boys. Now you're here, what's your story? We're all ears."

  Charlie and Gaspar shifted their chairs so they were facing the boys, and Dom looked for a second like he might speak up before he hesitated and turned to Loretto.

  "It's nothin'," Loretto said. "Dom and I were going to the 21 because it was my birthday and we were gonna celebrate. I was waitin' for him to pick me up on the corner, and then the shootin' started. That's the whole story. We had nothin' to do with it."

  "That's a lot of palaver," Cabo said.

  Dutch spoke to Maranzano: "Why should I believe him?"

  Gaspar said, "Dominic is my nephew. I raised him like a son in my house since my brother died, God rest his soul. And Loretto is in my employ. I'll vouch for both of them. If they say they had nothing to do with it, they had nothing to do with it. Besides," he added, and his face suddenly got red, "this infamita," he waved his finger at Cabo, "this is not something we'd have any part of, none of us."

  "I'm telling you," Cabo said to Gaspar, "my boys seen this one," he pointed to Loretto, "runnin' beside the car and talking to the driver, and then this one," he pointed to Dom, "he was with him."

  Gaspar hooked his thumbs under his suspenders. He was a man in his fifties with a big belly on an otherwise slim frame. His full head of white hair was slicked back and parted in the middle, and his face was still youthful though weathered. He turned to face Loretto.

  "I ran beside the car," Loretto said, "because I wanted to see who was doing the shootin'. I didn't talk to nobody."

  Bo said, "Who was doin' the shootin'?"

  "Che cazzo!" Cabo said, "Everybody knows who was doing the shootin'!"

  "All I saw's the driver," Loretto said. He hesitated and then added, "And the guy sittin' next to him."

  Dutch said, "Yeah? And who was that?"

  Loretto pressed his hat to his chest. "Don Maranzano," he said, "it's no secret who was in that car, but I'm not a guy who talks about what he saw." He looked to Dutch. "Not for nobody."

  Maranzano said to Dutch, "We know it was this Vincent Coll. This animale."

  Dutch watched Loretto. It was obvious he hadn't liked his response.

  "Boss," Bo said to Dutch, trying to distract him, "every copper in the city's looking for Coll, and I hear Mulrooney's told 'em all to shoot him on sight and shoot to kill."

  Dutch ignored Bo. To Loretto he said, "Hey, kid. You know who I am?"

  "Sure," Loretto said. "You're Arthur Flegenheimer."

  Dutch turned to Maranzano and Charlie Lucky and then finally to Bo before in a single motion he snatched a nutcracker off the table, snapped it in half so that the metal spring formed a jagged edge, and leaped at Loretto. He held Loretto's shirt in one hand and with the other hand pressed the jagged nutcracker to his throat. Before the men at the table could react, Loretto had his stiletto out of his pocket and at Dutch's jugular.

  "Kid," Bo said, "put that away."

  Maranzano whispered something into Gaspar's ear, and Gaspar motioned for Loretto to put the knife away.

  Loretto took the knife from Dutch's throat, and in the same instant Dutch threw a quick, sharp right. Loretto ducked but the punch still caught him on the side of his head, over the temple, and knocked him back into the wall.

  "All right, enough." Luciano pushed Dutch back to keep him from hitting Loretto again.

  "Boss," Bo said, and he took Dutch by the arm as the door swung open and Henry entered with a pump-action shotgun in hand. Behind him, Cabo's torpedoes were on the couch looking up at a riot gun in the hands of Cinquemanni.

  Luciano said, "Let's all settle down."

  Don Maranzano hadn't moved from his seat at the head of the table. He was a slim man in his midforties dressed in a gray three-piece suit with a gold watch chain disappearing into his vest pocket. He pointed to Loretto and said to Dutch, "The boy defend himself, and he don't squeal."

  Dutch shook off Bo's arm, straightened out his jacket, and pulled his chair back as if getting ready to take his seat again. Charlie told Henry to wait outside, and Loretto picked up his stiletto.

  "You fuckin' dagos," Dutch said, taking his seat again, "you cut a guy's throat and eat off the same blade."

  Loretto put the knife back in his pocket, picked up his hat from the floor, and leaned back against the wall. His head hurt where he had taken the punch, and there was a slight ringing in his ear. He acted, though, as if he didn't feel a thing.

  Maranzano raised one hand, like a priest giving a benediction. "Nothing is to happen to these boys," he said to Dutch. "They are under my protection." To Richie Cabo he said, "Do you understand?"

  Cabo looked away from the don and said nothing.

  Bo said, "Don Maranzano, with all due respect, you have to understand that Richie believes these boys fingered him for Coll, and Richie works for Dutch. Dutch has a responsibility to look out for his men."

  "Si," Maranzano said. He started to reply in Italian and then quickly corrected himself. "Yes," he said, "but these boys, they work for Gaspar, who works for me, and so I am responsible."

  "Listen, Bo," Luciano said, "let's cut the bullshit, okay? Caporinno is Castellammarese. You can't touch him. That's the end of the story."

  "But this kid's not," Dutch said and pointed to Loretto.

  "Maybe you didn't hear," Maranzano said. "I say both boys, they under my protection."

  "Dutch," Luciano said, "what's the dirt? You knew," he added, his voice rising, "that the don wouldn't give you what you wanted. What are you doing here?"

  "I want Vince Coll." Dutch pointed to Dom and Loretto. "And these two guys are gonna give him to me, or—" he paused and faced Maranzano, "I'm going to ft 'em in concrete shoes and drop 'em in the fuckin' river."

  Maranzano said something in Italian to Charlie, and Charlie raised his hand, asking him to wait. To Dominic he said, "Do you know where Vince can be found?"

  "I don't know where he is," Dominic said. "Only time I see Vince is at the Mad Dot, his club on Dykman Street. Sometimes I run into him around town. With everybody lookin' to put one in him, he don't give out where he's stayin' to nobody."

  Charlie turned to Loretto.

  "Same thing," Loretto said. "I don't know nothin'." The ringing in his ear had stopped and he was back to feeling clear-headed.

  Cabo stood up and said to Dutch, "We're not getting any satisfaction here." He puffed out his chest and glanced defantly at Maranzano.

  Maranzano snatched Cabo's tie and jerked his head down to the table. With one hand he held tight to the knot of the tie and with the other he pulled savagely, tightening the fabric around Cabo's neck like a noose. In Italian, he said, "I'll cut your balls off and stuff them up your ass, you fat pig." He pointed to the boys and held fast to Cabo, who was choking and sputtering but too off balance to pull away. "If something terrible happens to either one of these young men, even if it looks like the hand of God, I'm still going to hold you responsible. Do you understand?"

  Cabo managed to nod, and Maranzano turned him loose.<
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  Bo was looking glumly at Luciano, but Dutch was suddenly smiling. He was watching Cabo, who cut such a comic figure dancing around and clutching at his own throat while struggling unsuccessfully to loosen his tie that in a minute everyone in the room was laughing. When Cabo fell to his knees and looked close to passing out, Bo told Loretto to give him the knife. Loretto did so, and Bo cut the tie off Cabo's neck and then helped him out of the office. As soon as the door closed behind them, Charlie Lucky said to Dutch, "As long as Don Maranzano is head of the Castellammarese family, you can't touch these boys." He pointed to Loretto and said, "Either one of them. However," he added, and he put his arm roughly around Loretto's shoulders, "if one of them should learn the whereabouts of the Mick, they'll come to me right away—and I give you my word, you'll know soon as I do." He looked into Loretto's eyes, his forehead practically touching Loretto's, and the look said, That's the deal, and you have nothing more to say about it. He was a solemn-looking guy with thick lips, a right eye that drooped slightly, wavy dark hair, and a scar that ran from his ear to his chin.

  Bo came back into the room alone and tossed the knife to Loretto. "That Vengelli kid died this morning. You hear about that?"

  Loretto nodded, and Charlie let him loose.

  Gaspar stood and said to Dutch, "I'm sure my boys will tell me if they hear anything about Coll."

  Dutch got up from his seat, brushed himself off, and left the room without a word.

  Alone in the office with Maranzano and the others, Bo said, "Don't pay no attention to that," meaning the contemptuous way in which Dutch had walked out of the meeting. To Don Maranzano he said, "He's a hothead, but he's not stupid. No harm will come to either one of them, not from us, anyway." He offered Don Maranzano his hand, and the don shook it. "Good," he said. "And just so everybody should know, Dutch has put a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bounty on Coll's head. That's in addition to Big Owney's twenty-five thousand. Guy who puts one in the Mick walks off with fifty grand." He tipped his hat to the room and followed his boss out the door.

  When they were all gone, when everyone heard the waiting-room door close behind Cabo, who was still wheezing with every breath, Maranzano said, "Cafon's," as if that single word explained everything. He went to Dom and Loretto, stood between them, and put his arms around their shoulders as he guided them to the door. "I like you boys," he said, and he shook them roughly by the neck. "Go on," he added as Gaspar opened the door for them. "You won't get no trouble." He pushed them out the door with a pat on the back.

  In the waiting room again, with the door to the inner office closed behind them, Dom turned to Henry and Vic and whispered, "Madon!" while gesturing to Loretto.

  Vic laughed and Henry said, "You got some balls, kid."

  Vic said to Loretto, "I were you, I'd steer clear of Dutch and his gang. Word to the wise."

  "Don't worry about it," Henry said. He opened the door and waved for the boys to follow him out into the hall. "Long as Don Maranzano's behind you, even Dutch Schultz ain't crazy enough to do anything." He offered them his hand, and both boys shook with him before descending the steps and walking out into the heat of the city.

  On the street, on the way to car, Dom was giddy. He clutched Loretto's arm and said, "When you called Dutch 'Flegenheimer' the way you did, v'fancul'! I about shit my pants!"

  "Me, too," Loretto said.

  Dom shook his arm. "What did you think would happen? Mannagg'!"

  Loretto didn't know why he had smart-mouthed Dutch, but he liked the way it felt, having done it. "I don't like the son of a bitch."

  "You don't like him!" Dom yelled. "Nobody likes Dutch Schultz. That don't mean you can pull a knife on him."

  "So what do you think?" Loretto asked. "Should I worry about Dutch or Cabo?" They were at the car, and Dom was stepping into the street, going around to the driver's door.

  "Son of a bitch!" Dom stopped in front of the car, where a white mess of bird droppings was splattered over the otherwise brilliant finish. "These fuckin' birds follow me."

  "You can clean it up later." Loretto got into the car and waited for Dom to join him.

  Dom reluctantly left the hood as if loath to drive the car without cleaning it first. Behind the wheel, he said, "They should kill every fuckin' pigeon in New York. In the whole fuckin' state of New York."

  "So what I asked you," Loretto said, "you think I should worry about Dutch or Cabo?"

  "No." Dom leaned back, closed his eyes, hit the starter, and then grinned a big self-satisfed grin when the engine turned over the first time. "It's a work of art, this car."

  "Why not?" Loretto asked.

  "Because no matter how much Dutch wants you dead, he knows if he kills you, the Castellammarese won't rest till he's dead, too." He pulled the car out into the empty side street and started toward the traffic on the avenue. "We're Sicilians," he said to Loretto. "You don't fool around with us."

  "And Cabo?"

  "Forget about Cabo." Dom straightened out the rearview mirror. "Only one you got to worry about now is Vince."

  Loretto looked out the window at the crowds on the street and let his thoughts drift back to the meeting and the men seated around the conference table. Don Maranzano at one end of the table, stylishly dressed but old-fashioned with his gold watch chain strung across his vest. Rumor was he packed two pistols under his jacket whenever he went out on the street, back when he was at war with Joe the Boss. He drove around in a bulletproof Cadillac with a machine gun mounted between the back seats. He had his own brewery in Pennsylvania, a legit real estate business, and was already worth millions before he came over from Sicily. Dutch on the other end of the table in his cheap suit with a sour look on his face: word was he made millions off the Harlem lottery alone, not even counting all the beer and whiskey money. "What do you know about Charlie Luciano?" he asked Dom. "The way he acted, it was almost like he was running things."

  "Nah," Dom said. "He's the don's right-hand man now." Dominic looked like he wanted to say something more before he decided against it and went back to concentrating on driving.

  "What?" Loretto pressed.

  "Nothin'."

  "Don't tell me nothin'. What?"

  "If I tell you this," Dom said, "you got to give me your word you won't tell another soul. I'm not supposed to know about it myself."

  "Yeah, sure," Loretto said. "What?"

  "You see that scar on Charlie Lucky's face?"

  "I ain't blind. What about it?"

  "Yeah, well, Don Maranzano give him that."

  Loretto waited for the rest of the story.

  "Let's just say there was a misunderstanding between them, and Charlie wound up hanging from a beam getting the shit beat out of him."

  "What kind of a misunderstanding?"

  "That I don't know," Dom said. "But the don give him that scar on his face, and another one you can't see down his chest."

  Loretto started to ask how he knew all this and then caught himself. The only way he could know was through Gaspar, which meant Gaspar had to have been there.

  "Salvatore Maranzano," Dom said, "right now he's chief of the Castellammarese, but you watch, in time he's gonna be runnin' everything, the whole country. Capo di tutti capi. You watch."

  "You admire him," Loretto said. They were at the Willis Avenue Bridge again. It was swinging closed, having just let a barge pass through on the river, and the traffic was backed up.

  "Sure, I admire him," Dominic said. "The man has a university education back in Italy. He speaks Greek and Latin! He's got a library in his home, madon!, big walls nothin' but books."

  "What's a university education got to do with selling hooch to speakeasies and bumping off anybody gives you trouble?"

  "You don't get it," Dom said. The traffic started moving again, and he put the car in gear. "It's bigger than that."

  "Yeah?" Loretto said. "If you say so."

  "Yeah, well, I say so."

  Crossing the bridge, Loretto again imagined a body in
the river, feet in concrete, wavering in the current. "Maybe the don said something smart in Latin," he said to Dom, "while he was slicing up Charlie Lucky."

  "Shut up," Dom said. "You don't know nothing."

  Loretto watched the Willis Avenue Bridge recede in the rearview as the traffic started moving. His eyes were on the latticework of the bridge and the rippling water and the lines of cars with headlights like bug eyes, with whitewall tires and running boards and chrome grills and bumpers—but his thoughts were back at the meeting in the conference room.