King of the Bootleggers Read online

  Rocco lowered the binoculars, "It makes sense for them to load here. Going through the canal gives a lot of prying eyes time to see what they have on board." He looked at Tommy, "You got that money I gave you?"

  Tommy patted his pocket, "Yeah, right here." He patted the other side of his jacket, "And my Colt. I would feel better with the Thompson."

  Rocco lifted the binoculars again and scanned the shoreline up ahead. Then he looked at Santoro, "Can we put Tommy on shore here near them?"

  Santoro nodded, "Sure, but why? Now that we know where they load the cargo, we just sit in wait for every shipment."

  "I told you, I'm interested in more than just the cargo. Tommy's going to try and find out who was behind the cargo."

  Santoro looked confused, "But...the label on the bottles would tell you where they come from–"

  "That tells us who made the stuff. The people supplying Buffalo could be the distillery. Or it could be someone buying from the distillery. I want to know who's involved, right to the top."

  "And you eliminate them all?" Santoro assumed.

  "If necessary." He turned to Tommy, "I want you to watch the next delivery and track those trucks back to their source. Buy a vehicle, steal a vehicle, I don't care how you do it. Just find out where it's coming from and then we'll work on the next step. I'll have Cuba come back and trail them from here to the drop-off again to make sure they use the same spots coming and going. We need to know everything. We can't afford to make any mistakes."

  "Once I find out where the trucks are coming from, what do I do next?" Tommy asked.

  "One step at a time," Rocco told him. He turned to Santoro, "If they do come back here, you land back at the same spot where we drop off Tommy and you wait for him to make contact again. You okay with that?"

  Santoro shrugged, "I guess."

  "Here's the deal, "Rocco said. "Once we know what I need to know, I'll pay you $300 for every load you take from them and deliver to me."

  Santoro chewed on his cigar, "$300...for every load?" He looked out over the choppy water, "Must be other boats running whiskey...."

  "Probably. We can take them one at a time," Rocco said. "But I need to know who moves what and where. If anyone moves in on my territory...."

  Santoro chewed his cigar and nodded thoughtfully, "Okay....$300 for every load. What about the boats? You want me to sink 'em?"

  "You can do what you want. To the boats or the people. I don't care. All I want is the hootch."

  Santoro chewed his cigar eagerly, "I can strip down the boats and sell the parts...better yet...I keep the boats, remove decals and swap out serial numbers with scrapped boats. I could have Sontoro's Navy running in no time. At $300 for every load, I could get some nasty crew to work with me."

  Rocco smiled at the big man's eagerness in expanding his life of crime.

  SEVERAL DAYS LATER Rocco met with Cuba and Tommy when they came back into the harbor in Hamilton. Tommy looked worn and haggard.

  "What the hell, you can't take a few days away from momma's home cooking?" Rocco teased.

  Tommy laughed but it was a tired laugh, "I had late nights with some new-found drinking buddies."

  "Shit," Cuba said, "if your job is to go drinking, I want to be the one he sends next time."

  Tommy noted Rocco's annoyance at his mention of drinking and he held his hands out, "It's okay, Rocco. It was all part of finding everything out. I followed the trucks right back to the source." He dug into his pockets and pulled out a business card he read from, "It's a place called K.R. Greenshields & Sons Distillery in Montreal. The place is run by the grandson, Keith Greenshields III." He handed the card to Rocco.

  Rocco looked at it, "Greenshields? That doesn't sound French."

  "No, but most of their workers are. I didn't see inside but from the outside, the place is four times larger than ours. The foremen are all English and I got to know them in a pub nearby where they go to drink. Got them stinking drunk and they offered me a job driving truck. Said they wanted a white man working for them," Tommy said with a laugh.

  "That doesn't mean this Keith Greenshields III is the brains behind it," Rocco said with annoyance. "I told you I wanted to know who was pulling the strings."

  Tommy looked worried, like he felt he had failed, "What can I say, Rocco? The place has French salesmen who visit their customers. But according to the foreman, it was Greenshields who came up with the idea to sell more liquor. He told me they're even sending trucks to the east coast, to send the stuff by boat down into the U.S."

  That struck a note with Rocco. He looked out over the harbor, "That sounds just like what Little Jack said."

  "Who's Little Jack?" Cuba asked.

  Rocco didn't answer as he mulled over the situation. Then he turned to Cuba, "Okay, it's open season on their boats. You come across any liquor not from this Greenshields, you let me know. I want to know all the competition we might have out there. I'll have Gianni Reppucci come down and make arrangements to put anything you hijack onto one of our trucks. You need anything from me, you send word through Gianni. He'll deliver cash payment every night you have something." He stuck his hand out, "Deal?"

  Cuba clamped his hand in a vice grip, "Deal."

  "What about me?" Tommy asked.

  Rocco put a hand on his shoulder and walked with him to the truck, leaving Cuba behind. "We have a visit or two to make and then I want you to head back to Montreal...with your Thompson. I know Christmas is coming up in two weeks...."

  "It's okay Rocco. The money you been paying us is really helping my mom and pops. Whatever you need. Cuba can drop me off–"

  "No. Cuba will be too busy hijacking their boats. I don't want him to miss even one. We'll send you back on the train."

  "The train! I love the train. My pops took us down to St. Catherines one time to visit relatives on a train."

  Chapter 30

  Hess Village, Hamilton

  A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS, twenty-five of Roman Provenzano's men brought their families into the Little Italy Club and Banquet Hall for their annual party. All of them walked from their nearby homes, dressed in their finest and carrying presents to set under the tree they had decorated several days before. The gifts would be taken to their local church for distribution to the poor at the discretion of the priest. The center of the banquet hall had been cleared away for dancing and the younger set we're excited about dancing The Breakaway, the newest dance craze done to the jazz music of the day.

  Rocco and Tommy sat waiting patiently down the block in an Overland Model 81 Roadster they had picked up the day before from Acme. It was one of the speedier cars on the road and Rocco wanted all the speed they could get if things went sideways.

  A small group of three men, three women, an older man and woman, several teenage girls and a handful of children came up on their right. The night air was crisp and the snow crunched under their feet as they walked by the Roadster.

  Rocco and Tommy turned his heads away, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. But the five youngest children weren't used to seeing a motor car and they crowded close, pushing their parka hoods back to look at it. Several approached Tommy in the passenger seat and started asking questions.

  Rocco cursed under his breath. The windows were down and his breath rolled in white clouds to the ceiling.

  Tommy slumped a bit and placed a hand up near his face, not saying a word.

  The kids kept bombarding him with questions.

  One of the men turned back and barked at the kids to keep on moving to the hall. Three teenage girls moved back and tried to herd the children on to the hall. A dark-haired beauty flashed a smile at Tommy as she placed her hands on the shoulders of the last child who still didn't want to leave.

  Tommy smiled back.

  The man barked again and the teenager took the child by the hand and ran with him to catch up to the group.

  Tommy sat up a little straighter, watching her legs as she moved away from the roadster.

 
"Keep it in your pants, Casanova," Rocco warned him. "Keep your head on straight or we could get killed."

  "He was Italian, wasn't he?" Tommy asked as he kept his eyes on her legs. "Casanova, I mean."

  "Yeah, but even he died. So concentrate on what you're doing or I'll cut it off myself."

  Tommy continued smiling as he pulled his gloves off, set them on the seat and then reached down and pulled his Thompson from beneath a burlap sack on the floor of the car, "Ready to go to work yet, boss?"

  "Just let that last bunch get inside."

  They sat and watched as the group opened the front doors of the Hall. Lively jazz music from inside drifted down the street. Two of the men in heavy coats stayed outside and closed the doors behind the others. The night went quiet again. The two men lit up cigarettes and stood talking just a few feet away from the closed doors.

  Rocco waited. When they each lit a second cigarette he knew they were going to stay outside, keeping watch. No doubt they would be relieved by another two guards at some point. Time to do this before we get spotted. Rocco sat up straighter.

  Tommy saw him shift and the smile left his face as he got serious.

  Rocco started the car but left the lights off as he watched the two men closely. So far, so good. "Okay, kid. Slip out your side. Keep the gun down by your leg, so they don't see it."

  Tommy opened the door and slipped out as instructed. Closing the door as quietly as possible, he then stepped up on the running board and leaned back against the car.

  "Ready?"

  Tommy shifted his feet to get himself set a bit more and then said, "Okay, ready."

  Rocco started driving forward, keeping an eye on the two men while watching Tommy out of the corner of his eye. If he falls off....

  Waiting until the last minute, Rocco floored it when the men noticed the car. The car shot forward and Tommy rocked to the right, trying to stay upright. Rocco jammed on the brakes and steered to the left to give Tommy a face-on view.

  The men reached for their weapons under their heavy coats.

  Tommy rocked to the left and pulled the trigger. The rat-tat-tat of the submachine gun was deafening. The gun flash from the end of the barrel was unrelenting. Tommy yelled at the top of his lungs.

  The two men danced under the hail of bullets. The wooden doors behind them splintered, the full-height windows on either side of the doors shattered into glass confetti, flying everywhere.

  When the first magazine ran out, Tommy switched to the second. When the second ran out, Tommy jumped off the running board, turned and pulled open the car door. He was still jumping inside when he yelled, "Go, go, go."

  Rocco floored it, leaving behind the sounds of screams, crying and yelling in the crisp night air.

  THE NEXT MORNING ROCCO stood in the back of the distillery, watching the whiskey being put into cases. Ten more young men from the neighborhood had been hired to serve as guards. Four of them were set up behind sandbags on the flat roof, armed with rifles and boxes of ammo. Two armed men with binoculars were up there as spotters as well. Rocco was taking no chances.

  One of the men standing guard in the front office came back, "You have a visitor up front."

  Rocco presumed it would be Provenzano, maybe looking for a truce. He wouldn't get one. But as he stepped through the large open archway, Rocco instead saw a tall, heavy-set man in a newsboy cap.

  "Mr. DeLuca?" The voice wore a heavy Italian accent.

  Rocco didn't reply.

  The man shifted on his feet and clasped his hands in front, "I'm Bruno Gagliano. I work for Mr. Provenzano."

  "Did he send you?"

  The man continued on, "We were hoping to appeal to your reason. Men of honor refrain from attacking, injuring and killing women and children–"

  "–honor!" Rocco stepped forward menacingly, yelling, "You come to me and talk about honor? About not killing women and children?"

  The man stood calm, unafraid.

  "When Fat Sal Russo took me to his place by force, he didn't just threaten to kill me if I didn't tell him what he wanted to know." He pointed towards the office, "He threatened to have men rape my Besha if I didn't cooperate. Is that honor?" He took another step forward, "And guess who was there laughing when he threatened to rape her. Your boss, Roman Provenzano."

  The man blinked.

  "Is that your old-world honor? Is it?"

  The man stood stoically.

  "You can take your honor, stick it up your ass and take it back to Sicily with you. Cause the Sicilians here don't give a shit about your tradition. Now get out before I put a bullet in your brain. If you have one."

  The man waited a moment before turning and opening the exit door.

  Rocco took another step, "Fat Sal is dead. I saw to that. And the next man who steps anywhere close to this building will be sent back in little pieces. You hear me?"

  The man stopped in the doorway, waited a brief moment without looking back...and gave one nod of his head. Then he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Chapter 31

  Christmas Day

  GINO CRIVELLI AND OX MORESCHI walked along the snowy plank-sidewalk, each with their arms around the young woman they had met the night before at a party. They were headed to Adelardi Ristorante, a North End restaurant a block from their neighborhood apartments.

  Gino put his lips close to the redheaded beauty he was with but spoke loud enough for the others to hear, "What did you say your name was again?"

  The redhead raised an eyebrow and pouted in mock anger, "Well it certainly isn't that Diana's name you called out in the middle of it last night."

  Gino laughed hard in harmony with Ox.

  "My name is Ruby, the redhead said.

  "You mean ruby red lips," said Gino. "Cause that's what they look liked down there when I was finished with them last night." He laughed hard again.

  Ox laughed along with his friend and then squeezed his arm tight around the beautiful brunette he was with, "Well I don't care what your name is, 'cause you screw like a mink."

  The brunette laughed and then created her own pout, "And I bet you don't know my name either."

  Ox looked down at her seriously, "Your name is Angelica."

  The brunette look surprised, "Wow, I didn't expect that." She looked at the redhead and made a face, "At least my date remembered me."

  "The only reason he remembered your name," Gino explained, "is 'cause his mother has the same name. And he was picturing her face all night while he was doing you."

  Ox laughed hard along with his friend.

  The two girls looked at each other in shock and then laughed.

  "Hey, there's your sister," Gino said.

  Ox looked up the street. A small group of people stood outside the restaurant they were heading for. And just beyond them, another group of people stood on the corner singing Christmas carols for the people passing by.

  "Is that who we're meeting for Christmas dinner?" the redhead asked.

  "Yeah. The blonde is my sister Rosa and that's her husband Cesare...Cesare Tiepolo. And that's his brother Roberto and his wife Dorothea. They're all from our neighborhood."

  "I always wanted to nail her," Gino said.

  "Who? My sister?" Ox asked him.

  "No, Dorothea."

  "Hey, you're not supposed to talk about another woman when I'm on your arm," the redhead complained.

  "What's the matter, my sister not good enough for you?" Ox asked.

  "I'm just leaving her for you," Gino answered.

  Ox laughed out loud.

  The brunette looked at him with a disgusted look on her face, "You'd do your own sister?"

  Ox shrugged, "Look at her. She's gorgeous. She looks like me."

  The brunette slapped him playfully on the chest, "You're bad."

  "And last night you said I was good, how soon they forget," Ox complained.

  Cesare Tiepolo lifted an arm over his head and waved to Ox, "Ciao, Alessandro!" The others with him turned an
d waved as well at the approaching foursome.

  "How come Cesare never calls you Ox?" Gino asked.

  Ox shrugged as they approach the others, "He can't pronounce it. The Tiepolo's are from Venice. What can you expect?"

  Gino laughed.

  Rosa approached her brother and kissed him on the cheek, "What are you two laughing about now? It's dirty, I bet."

  Gino looked at the brunette who was with Ox, "Angelica there was just telling us what it's like to have sex with your brother."

  Rosa laughed along with the others and she put her hand on Gino's face and made him pucker for a kiss, "Oh, you're so bad. But I love you." She gave him a peck on the lips and then Gino embraced her. Ox threw his arms around Cesare and then Roberto and his wife Dorothea, greeting them all warmly. Gino did the same as Ox introduced the two girls they were with.

  The brunette looked up the street past the group and then looked at the redhead and nodded her head once.

  The redhead took the small purse she had draped over her shoulder and opened the flap, "Do you mind if Ruby and I just grab a smoke before we go in?"

  "Yeah, I need one," the brunette said. She reached her hand out as the redhead produced a pack of Sweet Caporal cigarettes.

  "You smoke? In public?" Dorothea asked in a low, shocked voice.

  The redhead shrugged, "Why not? Men can do it. We have the vote now so...."

  "Yeah, let's go," the brunette said as she hustled her away from the group. "Just give us a minute," she called back.

  Dorothea looked at her husband and shook her head.

  "I wouldn't mind trying it," Rosa said.

  "You wouldn't?" Dorothea said with an incredulous smile. "Would you...?"

  Rosa winked, "There's a lot of things I'd like to try–"

  The loud sound of a car approaching from behind caught their attention. The group turned partially to see a car slide to a stop in the snowy street beside them. They were surprised to see a second car sliding to a stop right behind the first.