The Family Corleone (21 page)

“Luca,” Tommy said, and again he glanced over at his boys. “Do
you know who you’re dealing with? You want to take on Giuseppe Mariposa, the Barzinis, me, Frankie Five Angels, the Rosatos, and all our boys? You understand you’re talking about a big organization, and getting bigger—”

“You mean LaConti,” Luca said.

“Yeah, LaConti. We’ll have his whole organization in a matter of days. You understand all this? You understand we’re talking about hundreds of guys? And you got what? You and four, five guys? Don’t be crazy, Luca. Just give us the clowns been ’jackin’ us, and we’re done. I’ll even forget all this crazy bullshit today. I give you my word, we won’t come after you or your boys.”

Luca took a step back and looked out over the water. Beyond the docks, gulls were swooping and squawking. The sky was blue over gray water, and a few fat white clouds floated by. “All right,” he said. “That your message? That what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yeah,” Tomasino said. “That’s it.”

“Here’s my message for you to bring back to Joe,” he said. He gazed at the clouds and water, as if he were thinking about something. “If the dentist here moves,” he said to Hooks, “put a bullet through his head.” To JoJo he said, “You too. Anybody moves, you kill him.”

Tomasino said, “Jesus Christ, Luca—”

Before Tomasino could say anything more, Luca shot Grizz point-blank in the head, between the eyes. The kid’s arms flew up as his body tumbled off the pier. He hit the water and sank instantly, leaving only his hat floating on the surface.

Tomasino’s face turned white, and the kid, Vic, covered his eyes. Nicky was expressionless, but he was wheezing with every breath.

To Tomasino, Luca said, “Tell Giuseppe Mariposa that I’m not a man he can treat with disrespect. Tell him that if I find out he was behind trying to rub me out, I’m gonna kill him. You think you can deliver that message for me, Tommy?”

“Sure,” Tomasino said, his voice scratchy. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Luca said, and then he turned his gun on Vic. The kid looked at him and smiled. He took his hat off, still smiling, and
ran his fingers over his hair just as Luca pulled the trigger. He shot him three more times as he fell, until the kid disappeared under the water.

In the quiet afterward, Tomasino said, his voice suddenly as frail and delicate as a girl’s, “What are you doing this for, Luca? What’s wrong with you?”

“Grizz was part of my message for Joe,” Luca said, “so he has no doubt about who he’s dealing with. And the kid? Vic? I was just saving you the trouble. You were gonna kill him anyway, right?”

“You done?” Tomasino said. “ ’Cause if you’re gonna kill me and Nicky, get it over with.”

“Nah. I told the kid I wouldn’t kill you,” he said, “and I keep my word.”

Nicky’s wheezing kept getting louder. Luca said to him, “You got asthma or something, Nicky?” Nicky shook his head and then grabbed his mouth, dropped to his knees, and retched through his hands.

“You done?” Tomasino asked Luca again.

“Not quite yet,” Luca said. He took Tomasino by the throat with one hand, spun him around, and threw two quick blows to his face with the butt of his pistol. Tomasino hit his head on the fender of the Buick as he went down. His nose spewed blood and he was cut under one eye. He looked up at Luca blankly before he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it to his nose.

“I thought about pulling a couple of your teeth,” Luca said, “but, you know, I figured that was your thing.” He unzipped and pissed in the water while Tomasino stared up at him. After he zipped up, he motioned JoJo and Hooks to get in the car. “Don’t forget to deliver my message,” he said to Tomasino, and he started for the Buick. Then he stopped and said, “You know what?” like he was changing his mind about something. He went over to Nicky, who was still on his knees, hit him once, viciously, over the head with the gun, and then picked up his unconscious body and put it in the trunk of the Buick before he got into the passenger’s seat and drove off slowly with his boys.

V
ito downshifted the big Essex, and its eight-cylinder engine grumbled before easing again into its steady hum. He was in Queens, just getting off Francis Lewis Boulevard, on his way out to the Long Island compound for a picnic with his family. Carmella sat beside him with Connie in her lap, playing pat-a-cake with her, singing
pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man
. Sonny sat next to Carmella, by the window, his hands on his knees, his finger drumming a tune only he heard. Michael, Fredo, and Tom were in the back. Fredo had finally quit asking questions, for which Vito was grateful. The Essex was the middle car in a caravan, with Tessio and a few of his men driving a black Packard in the lead, and Genco behind them in his old Nash, with its bug-eye headlights. Al Hats was with Genco in the backseat, and Eddie Veltri, another one of Tessio’s men, drove. Vito was dressed casually in khaki slacks and a yellow cardigan over a blue shirt with a wide collar. His dress was appropriate for a picnic, but he nonetheless felt self-conscious, as if he were playacting at a life of leisure.

It was still early, not yet ten in the morning. The day was perfect for an outing, the sky blue and cloudless and the weather mild. Vito’s thoughts, though, kept drifting back to business. Luca Brasi had bumped off two of Cinquemani’s boys, and a third man, Nicky Crea, had been missing for days. Vito didn’t know how this would affect
him and his family, but he suspected he’d find out soon enough. Mariposa had pushed him to negotiate with Brasi, which he’d never done, and now this mess. He didn’t see how Mariposa could hold him responsible, but Giuseppe was stupid, and thus anything was possible. Vito understood it was only a matter of time before he would have to deal with Mariposa. He had ideas, he had possibilities he was working on, and those ideas and possibilities went round and round in his head as he followed Tessio. He hoped sincerely to be moved into his Long Beach compound before trouble started, but the construction was going slower than he had been promised. For now he had to hope that Rosario LaConti could at least keep Mariposa and his
capos
preoccupied a little longer.

“Is this it?” Fredo asked.

Vito had just followed Tessio onto the long driveway to the compound, where gold and red leaves fluttered down from columns of trees that bracketed the drive.

“Look at all these trees!” Fredo yelled.

Michael said, “That’s what you get in the country, Fredo: trees.”

Fredo said, “Ah, shut up, will ya, Mikey?”

Sonny looked into the back and said, “Both of you, knock it off.”

“Is that the wall?” Fredo said, opening his window. “Is that like the castle wall you said, Ma?”

“That’s it,” Carmella said. To Connie she said, “See. It’s like a castle.”

“Except it’s got a few gaps in it,” Michael said.

Tom said, “It’s not finished yet, wise guy.”

Vito brought the car to a halt behind Tessio, and Eddie pulled up the Nash. Clemenza waited at the gate—or the place where the gate would be when the work was finished. He leaned against the fender of his car next to Richie Gatto, who had a newspaper under his arm. Clemenza, looking bulkier than usual in casual clothes, and in contrast to Gatto’s muscular build, sipped from a mug of coffee. Sonny and the boys had jumped out of the Essex as soon as it stopped, but Vito was taking a minute to admire the masonry of the tall stone wall—ten feet high in places—that surrounded the compound. The work was
being done by the Guilianos, masons whose family had worked with stone for centuries. The elaborate construction of the wall was topped with a concrete ledge, out of which wrought-iron spearheads provided a convenient ornamental touch. Carmella, waiting beside Vito with Connie, put her hand over his and kissed him, quickly, a peck on the cheek. Vito patted her hand and said, “Go. Go look around.”

“Let me get the picnic basket,” Carmella said. She went around to the trunk.

When Vito got out of the car, Tessio approached him and put his arm around his shoulder. “This is gonna be spectacular,” he said, gesturing to the gate and the compound.

“My friend,” Vito said, “stay close to my family,
per favore
.” He gestured at the unfinished walls. “This is our business,” he said, meaning that a man could never feel entirely safe.

“Certainly,” Tessio said, and he went off to look for Sonny and the kids.

Clemenza, with effort, pushed himself away from the car and joined Vito. Richie followed.

Vito said to Clemenza, “What is it I don’t like about that look on your face?”

“Eh,” Clemenza said, and he motioned for Richie to show Vito the newspaper.

“Wait,” Vito said, as Carmella joined them, carrying Connie in one hand and a small basket in the other. She had on a long, flowered dress with a frilly collar. Her hair, just beginning to gray, fell to her shoulders.

Vito said, “You have a picnic for all of us in there?”

Carmella grinned and showed him the basket, in which she had smuggled their house cat, Dolce, along for the ride. Vito took the cat from the basket, held it to his chest, and rubbed its head. He smiled at his wife and pointed toward the biggest of the five houses in the compound. Between him and the house, two groups of Tessio’s and Clemenza’s men talked among themselves. The boys were all out of sight. “Find the children and show them their rooms,” he said, as he replaced the kitten in the basket.

“No business today,” Carmella said to Vito. To Clemenza she added, “Let him relax one day, okay?”

“Go,” Vito said. “I promise. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

Carmella gave Clemenza a stern look, and then went off to join her family.

Once Carmella was out of hearing range, Vito peered at the masthead of the paper and said, “So what’s in today’s
Daily News
?” Richie handed him the paper. Vito shook his head at the picture on the cover. When he read the caption, he said, “
Mannagg’
… ‘Unidentified victim…’ ”

“It’s Nicky Crea,” Clemenza said. “One of Tomasino’s boys.”

The front page of the paper pictured the body of a boy stuffed into a trunk. The kid’s face was untouched, but his torso was torn up with bullet holes. It looked like someone had used him for target practice.

Clemenza said, “I hear Tomasino’s furious.”

Vito studied the picture another moment. The body was crammed into a steamer trunk with cracked leather straps and an ornate brass lock. Someone in a jacket and tie who looked like a passerby but was probably a detective peered into the trunk as if curious about the body, the way the knees were twisted and the arms folded awkwardly. The trunk had been left under the fountain in Central Park, and the angel atop the fountain appeared to be pointing at the trunk and the body.

“Brasi,” Vito said, and handed the paper back to Gatto. “He’s sending a message to Giuseppe.”

“What’s his message?” Clemenza said. “Hurry up and kill me? He’s got five guys against Mariposa’s organization? He’s a madman, Vito. We got another Mad Dog Coll on our hands.”

Vito said, “So why isn’t he dead yet?”

Clemenza glanced at Genco, who was approaching them with Eddie Veltri at his side. To Vito, he said, “The Rosato brothers paid me a personal visit last night. Late.”

Genco, joining the circle, said, “Did he tell you?”

Vito said to Gatto, “Richie, why don’t you and Eddie go check all
the houses, please.” When Gatto and Veltri were out of the circle, Vito motioned for Clemenza to continue.

“They came by my house, right to the front door.”

“Your home?” Vito said, the color in his face rising.

“They had a bag of cannolis straight from Nazorine’s.” Clemenza laughed. “
V’fancul’!
I told them, ‘You want me to invite you in for coffee? It’s after eleven!’ They’re yuk yuk yuk, yap yap yap, old times, the old neighborhood. I tell ’em, ‘Boys. It’s late. If you’re not gonna kill me, what do you want?’ ”

“And?” Vito asked.

“Luca Brasi,” Genco said.

Clemenza said, “Just before they leave, Tony Rosato says, ‘Luca Brasi’s an animal. He’s ruining the neighborhood the way he acts. Somebody has to take care of him soon, or else the whole neighborhood will suffer.’ That’s it. They tell me to enjoy the cannolis and they’re gone.”

Vito turned to Genco. “So we have to take care of Luca?”

“LaConti’s hanging on by his teeth,” Genco said, “but he’s still hanging on. Tomasino from what I’m hearing wants Luca dead now—I think he wants to practice his dentistry on him—but the Barzinis want everybody focusing on LaConti, and Cinquemani will do what he’s told. Plus, between me and you, I think they’re all scared of this Luca Brasi. He’s got them all shakin’ in their boots.”

Vito asked Genco, “Does LaConti have a chance?”

Genco shrugged. “I have a lot of respect for Rosario. He’s been in jams before, he’s been counted out before, and he’s always come back.”

“No,” Clemenza said. “Not this time, Genco. Please.” To Vito he said, “His
caporegimes
have all gone over to Mariposa. Rosario’s on his own. His oldest boy is dead. He’s got his other son and a few of his boys standing by him, and that’s it.”

Genco said, “Rosario’s still got his connections, and I still say, until he’s in the ground, we can’t count him out.”

Clemenza looked up to the sky, as if at wits’ end in trying to deal with Genco.

“Listen to me,” Genco said to Clemenza. “Maybe you’re right and LaConti’s done for, and maybe I just don’t want to believe it—because when that happens, when Mariposa controls all of LaConti’s organization, the rest of us are going to get swallowed or buried. What we’re doing to the Irish now, they’ll do to us.”

“All right,” Vito said, stepping in to end the argument, “right now our problem is Luca Brasi.” To Genco he said, “Arrange a meeting for me with this mad dog.” He raised a finger, making a point. “Only me,” he said. “You tell him that I’m the only one coming. Tell him I’ll be alone and unarmed.”

“
Che cazzo!
�� Clemenza shouted, and then glanced around to see who was within earshot. “Vito,” he said, containing himself, “you can’t go see Brasi naked.
Madon’!
What are you thinking?”