Read Online The Secret by Harold Robbins - Free Book Online

found great satisfaction in it.
    *   *   *
    I called Frank Costello, naturally. We met again in the Norse Room, in the Waldorf. I was not entirely surprised to find Meyer Lansky with him.
    “A neat little business,” Lansky said quietly, with that sly small smile that characterized him. “A lot of potential.”
    “If I’m not nickeled-and-dimed to death,” I said.
    “That can happen,” said Costello.
    Understand that I’m sitting here with two statesmen of Cosa Nostra. Albert Anastasia, whom I had met once, was called the Executioner, for good reason. I’d met Crazy Joey Gallo and Tony Pro Provenzano. When you’re a hustler around New York, you do meet these characters. But Frank Costello, so far as I know, never killed anyone and never arranged a hit—and neither did Meyer Lansky. These two men were peacemakers, conciliators. They understood there was more money in the insidious invasion of businesses than there had ever been in violence, particularly in gang wars.
    On the other hand, they represented muscle. It was not wise to get crosswise with men like them. They might not kill you, but they could break you, for damn sure.
    “You’re looking for a partner,” Lansky suggested. “That’s how I figure.”
    “You think so? Well … I suppose I am. I don’t want a partner, but I suppose I should have one.”
    Lansky stubbed out his cigarette in the heavy glass ashtray on the lunch table. “It damages a man’s pride to have to take a partner he doesn’t want,” he said in a soft, sympathetic voice. “But pride is not all that important, Jerry. I’ve been arrested, handcuffed, made to stand in a lineup.” He shrugged. “None of that hurt me. I did a few months in jail, once. It didn’t hurt me. A man who puts too much emphasis on his pride is looking for a sure fall.”
    “I’d like to keep control of my business, Mr. Lansky. I built it and…”
    “Understood,” said Costello. “And that’s how it’ll be. But like you said, they nickel-and-dime you, nickel-and-dime you. Suppose you were to turn over, let’s say twenty-five percent of Cheeks to a partner with connections. And the nickel-and-diming stops. Not only that. This partner can help you expand your business. I have a man in mind who can also help you solve a problem you’re going to have sooner or later.”
    “Which is?” I asked.
    “You can’t always import all your merchandise. You’re going to have to start manufacturing it here. So, what do you know about the garment district, Jerry?”
    “Nothing,” I admitted.
    “The boys that rip you off at the airports and on the waterfront are nothing compared to what you’ll meet up with in the garment district,” said Lansky. “It’s a special culture, all its own. They have their ways that have been goin’ on for all of this century and even before. It’s more subtle, but it’s more effective.”

15
    So it happened that I met Sal Nero: Salamon Nero.
    I won’t play around with this the way he did with me. His name, really, was Solomon Schwartz. He was a nephew of Arnold Rothstein, one-time kingpin of New York rackets who was whacked out in the late twenties. He was also a cousin of Bugsy Siegel, who is credited with having opened up Las Vegas. Violence was part of his background. Rothstein was murdered in 1928, Siegel in 1947. They—and Lansky—were relics of the day when Jews controlled the rackets that came to be controlled by Cosa Nostra.
    Sal was a sort of Lansky writ small. Well … Lansky was only five feet four and a half, so of course I don’t mean physically small. What Sal had was a trigger mind and a photographic memory. Some people compared him to Abbadabba Berman, the mathematical genius behind some of Dutch Schultz’s most profitable scams. Writ small? No, he wasn’t. He was writ large, a tall, muscular, handsome man who was irresistible to women. A flashy dresser.
    I’ll add one more fact. He was hung like a horse. Like a friggin’ horse! It was