“Call the lizard you’ve got running that French laundry. … Ask him if your big brother didn’t just rob you of millions yesterday.” She took the rest of the photos and dropped them into the chair. “Some of these others aren’t bad either, but basically, they’re the same shot.” And she turned and walked out of the office, past Bruce Stang and the other man, through the door and over to the elevator, her heart pounding and adrenaline flowing. She knew she had sunk her hook deep.
Before she hit the lobby, Joe Rina had Tony Vacca on the phone at the SARTOF Merchant Bank of Nassau.
“I’m gettin’ word that my brother Tommy’s been down there,” Joe said softly.
“Uh … how? Who told you?” Tony Vacca said, and then he fell silent. The sub-Atlantic phone cable crackled.
“I’m gonna say this once,” Joe said, slowly and without anger, to the bank President he had hand-picked and put down there at a quarter-million dollars a year. “I want t’know … was my brother, Tommy, down mere? Simple question: yes or no?”
“Yeah, Joe, he was here.”
“Did he remove any money from the dead-drop?” Joe asked.
“Uh, Joe, you know I’m loyal t’you … you know that?”
“Tony, I’m asking this once more, for the last time! Did Tommy take any money out of the dead-drop?”
“Yes.”
“How much did he take?”
“Five million dollars,” Tony Vacca said.
“And if I could inquire, why did you see fit to give it to him?” Joe asked reasonably.
“Uh, well, Joe … you know Tommy….”
“Okay, I know Tommy. But I’m wondering why you gave it to him. I gave you strict instructions… that money is never to leave the dead-drop until it’s been washed, and then only by my instructions. So, why did you give Tommy the money?”
“Joe, he threatened me. He said he’d kill me with a hammer, said he could do it so it would take three hours for me to die. I’ve heard the stories. I was scared.”
“I see. And so you gave him my money, because you were scared?”
“He said it was his money too.”
“So you gave him our money, but you didn’t even call me and tell me.”
“He said if I told you he’d kill me, Joe. What’m I supposed t’do? You know how Tommy can get.”
“You’re fired. Put Carlo in charge and pack up and get out. I ever see you again, you’re gonna need medical attention. Good-bye.” And he hung up the phone as Bruce Stang brought in the pictures that Arnold Buzini had just faxed up from the Sabre Bay Club. Buzini had already moved the pictures of Beano and Duffy off the Deadwood Players’ Board and had put them into the Tat Cheaters’ Book in the Security room.
Joe held the black-and-white fax of Duffy and Beano up next to the pictures that Victoria had just left. They were the same two men. He could read the newspaper headline and he knew that Congress had cut back Defense funding just a couple of days ago. That meant the pictures were current. He looked up at Bruce Stang.
“So, what the hell is Tommy doing?” Joe said softly. “Looks like he’s hanging with this guy I beat up, and who stole a million from us at Sabre Bay. Then he forced Tony Vacca to give him five million of my money and not tell me. What’s he doing?”
The pungent question hung in the room like the painful smell of death.
Bruce shrugged. “You know Tommy,” he said weakly.
“Everybody’s always telling me I know Tommy. Well, y’know something…? Maybe I don’t know Tommy at all.”
TWENTY - EIGHT
BLEATING TO THE HEAT
WHEN VICTORIA LEFT THE PASTA PALACE IN ATLANTIC City, she was being observed by two FBI Agents in a gray sedan. The lead man was Stan Kellerman. He was five months from retirement with over forty in. He’d seen it all… but the thing he hated most was when “one of ours” turned bad. He had his binoculars up as Victoria hailed a passing cab.
Seated beside Stan Kellerman was Sheila Ward. She was in her rookie year at the Eye. She and Stan had nothing in common, from their opinions about the job to the music they listened to or the movies they liked. She had been hoping to get some experienced training from Stan, but he was a miserable son-of-a-bitch who barely ever spoke to her unless he was ordering her to do something.