Two Trains Running - By Andrew H. Vachss Page 0,56
a role all out of proportion to our numbers, if you follow me.”
“Yes, but—”
“But damn nothing! I’m telling you, straight out, they cannot put their man in power without us doing our part. And when it’s over, it’s not those ‘Irish-Americans’ they’ll owe, Mickey. It’ll be us. Because, inside every local political machine that can bring the Irish vote, we’ve got those of our own.”
“Sean . . .”
“Will you listen? I said our own, Mickey Shalare. Because they’ve got the talkers and the poets and the dreamers. They’ve got the precinct captains and the police chiefs. They’ve got the silver tongues and the greasy palms. But what they don’t have is the soldiers. Men of commitment. One of us is worth a thousand of them, and the people trying to make this happen, well, they understand that.”
“You really believe—?”
“It’s not what I believe, Mickey . . . although I do believe. It’s the decision of the leadership. But the only way it happens is if we keep the coalition in place. That’s why I’ve been sent to you now.”
“Yes?” Shalare said, a dozen questions in that single word.
“This whole territory has been Beaumont’s for a long time. You and that wop Dioguardi, you’ve both been coming at him, but from different directions.”
“Dioguardi’s a stupid thug.”
“Granted. And you’re a soldier. A general, I should say. You’ve built up a fine collection of allies, all over the state.”
“With the Organization’s money,” Shalare said. “I know.”
“Ah, that’s not where I’m going at all, Mickey. Haven’t I been talking politics from the moment I came here today? And that’s why Dioguardi is important.”
“Dioguardi doesn’t have one single—”
“If you’re going to say ‘judge,’ or ‘senator,’ you’re right. But what he does have is friends. Or bosses, more likely, the way those people work. And the people over him, they’ve reached out to us.
“You understand? We’re all of us agreed, each for his own reasons, sure, but all as one for this. The last thing we need now, when we’re so close, is some kind of raging gang war. The big cities have gone quiet. The way they’re supposed to. Oh, there’s crime. Always will be. And there’s people making their living from it. Always will be that, too. But there’s a deal in place, Mick. From New York to Chicago to Detroit to Los Angeles to Houston to New Orleans to . . . Well, if you took a map of America and stuck pins in it for all the places who’ve come under our control, you’d hardly be able to see what’s underneath.
“I’ve been around a long time, my son. And if I’ve learnt one thing, it’s this. A free press doesn’t mean it’s not a tame press. So this whole business of crime, it makes a headline once in a while, but it’s not the daily fare. If you read the papers—I don’t mean just here, I mean anywhere throughout this country—you’ll see nothing but teenagers on the crime pages. That’s what’s got this country all in an uproar. Not the men at the top. Not who controls prostitution, or gambling, or booze. No, what scares Americans is crazy children who kill each other over who gets to hang out in what sweetshop.”
Shalare calmly regarded the man across from him. “Still, the crime-fighters always get the vote, don’t they?”
“Not if that’s all they have to offer,” the bulky man shot back. “A man named Dewey found that out a few years back, didn’t he? Now, listen,” he said, a quicker, deeper current entering the dark river of his voice, “Kefauver’s done. He had his chance. He won’t be on the national ticket ever again. The Democrats are going our way. All the way. The train has already left the station. But if the press starts up again, if bodies start dropping in the streets, the public could turn on us.”
“Turn to where, Sean? Whoever runs for office in this country, they always say the same things. They all promise to clean up whatever mob’s making the papers.”
“Sure,” the other man said, not rising to the implied challenge. “But this election, it’s going to be paper-thin. We’re going to need every last vote. That’s a huge machine to keep oiled, Mick. The coalition has to come at it from both sides. We need the organized groups to work the vote. And we need the wild kids to keep the public’s eye off us.”
“What is it you want from me, then? Every single politician on