Read Online Assault on Soho by Don Pendleton - Free Book Online

that's on top of it pretty good?"
    "I got Danno Giliamo and his boys," Jersey replied through flattened lips.
    Arnie Farmer raised his eyebrows in respectful receipt of this news and replied, "Okay so I'm surprised you sent Danno. I take it back the bullshit remark."
    "Danno's a regular bulldog," Marinello put in. "Nobody'll say different to that—and listen—it's no dig at Danno that I'd like to see Nick Trigger take over the hit. Nick tells me that he talked this over with Danno— and Danno says it's okay with him. Listen, this is no time for hurt feelings. We've got to stop this boy, hard and fast. And the cost is getting out of hand, it's getting awful."
    "Not even mentioning the contract purse," Pennsylvania added.
    "I'd gladly pay it twice," Arnie Farmer Castiglione declared passionately "In fact…" He raised the wine glass to his lips and sipped delicately, then continued in a milder tone. "I'm for upping the ante to a cool million. That'd make the scramble for real, and we already lost more than that on account of this boy. Besides that he's making us look foolish. How long are we going to stay in business if…"
    The speech ended on the uncompleted question. Silence descended and reigned for a long moment, then the New Jersey boss grunted and suggested, "Contract money is not the answer."
    "Then just what the hell is?" Arnie Farmer demanded, his voice rising with emotion. "You can't cop a plea with this boy, you know."
    The latter statement had reference to an older and more painful period in the life of the boss from Jersey, who had served three successive prison sentences on "copped pleas"—pleading guilty to a lesser crime to avoid prosecution of graver ones. He resented being reminded of these past indignities, and his angry face plainly showed it.
    Marinello hurried into the breech. "We already got the answer," he declared softly. "We are doing the right things, make no mistake about that. It's just a matter of—"
    "No, wait a minute. Who says we can't cop a plea with this Bolan?"
    All eyes turned to Joe Staccio, the upstate New Yorker. Someone growled, "You nuts or something, Joe?"
    "Maybe I am," Staccio calmly replied. "Then again, maybe I'm not. I'm just saying it ain't all that far out an idea. Maybe we been acting like old-time hoods about this thing. You know? And even the old-time hoods found out there was more than one way of getting out of a problem. You know what I mean?"
    Augie Marinello was giving Staccio a thoughtful gaze. Castiglione's lips had curled into a snarl as the full implications of Staccio's suggestion registered. The man from Jersey was watching Marinello.
    Castiglione sneered, "What do you want us to do, Joe? Throw up our hands and beg for mercy?"
    "Now wait," Marinello said, as the noise level began to rise in the conference room. "Joe has brought up the question I'm sure all of us has thought about at one time or another. So now that it's in the open, let's talk about it. Maybe he's right and maybe we're going about this thing all wrong."
    "I was just thinking about the days of the old man," Staccio quietly put in. He was referring to Salvatore Maranzano. "Everybody was shooting at everybody else, nobody knew who to trust. I mean those wars got out of hand too, you know. If Charley Lucky hadn't made his peace, and forgave and forgot and patched things over, then none of us would be sitting here right now. Right?"
    "You're right, Joe," Marinello agreed.
    Arnie Farmer drily observed, "Charley Lucky Luciano and Mack the bastard Bolan are not exactly the same two people."
    "Yeah, you're right there, Arnie," Staccio replied. "But that's not the point, and it's not the right comparison. The point is, there's more than one way to end a war."
    "We're getting hurt," the man from Jersey put in. "And bad. Nobody is going to deny that. We've got to get this thing over with, one way or another."
    Marinello nodded and asked Staccio, "Just exactly what was you thinking about, Joe?"
    "A deal,"