Nightmare in New York

Chapter Eleven

Majesty

At almost the same moment that Mack Bolan had entered the automat with his young friends, CapoFreddie Gambella was being awakened from a fitful sleep in his home a few miles away.

"Tommy Doctor's outside," his night house-captain informed him in a harsh whisper. "He's got some cunt with him that he says knows Mack Bolan."

Gambella threw a quick look at his wife, asleep in the other bed a few feet away, and growled, "Awright, I'll be right there."

The captain was Angel Paleoletri, a favored veteran of some twelve years of night duty at the Gambella residence. He received his mob name from a supposed resemblance to a professional wrestler known as The Swedish Angel who was actually a Prince Charming in any close comparison with Paleoletti.

Maria Gambella openly shuddered at every sight of Angel, and she had absolutely forbade his presence in the marital bedroom. In one of the few ultimatums Maria had ever imposed upon their marriage, she had served notice to the Caposome years back that if she ever again awakened to find Angel Paleoletti standing over her bed, she would exit ru

Per this arrangement, Angel was awaiting his Capoin the small sitting room which adjoined the bedroom when Gambella strode out in robe and slippers, a suit of clothes slung casually over his shoulder. "Okay, what is this now?" he asked the bodyguard.

"Tommy's outside with this cunt. He thinks you'd want to talk to her personal. You want me to let 'em in?"

"You know better, Angel," Gambella said quietly. "Tell Tommy I'll be out in a minute."

"Dress warm, boss. We got a storm out there that could put out hell."

Paleoletti slipped quietly away and Gambella took his time getting dressed, ru

Gambella had lately been given to studying world history, with particular emphasis on Europe and the royal families who had dominated that continent and much of the world for so many centuries. The feudal kingdoms particularly fascinated the Capo, the parallels were so close to this blessed thing of theirs — the families of America — and he was begi

Freddie Gambella had those very same ideas. This kingdom was going to get better organized, by God, or Freddie Gambella would die trying. But not like the old man. Hell no. It took more than ideas to fashion an empire. More than class, too. Maybe Freddie didn't have the benefit of a fancy education but he read a lot, and by God he had the benefit of thirty-five years experience of handling these people, from soldiers to Capos.

The old ways were okay as far as they went. They just didn't go far enough. Why should they be standing still for all this damn snooping and harassment by the feds? And these damn grand juries, these punk bastards with the holier-than-anybody-look on their faces and their damn hands just as sticky as anybody else's in the world. All these big corporations — why those bastards stole with a license that nobody ever dreamed of. They co

Freddie Gambella was not holding still for that crap anymore. Hell no. If those guys wanted to muscle, then they'd better by God start looking for a license from the kingdom, that's what. Those senators, those congressmen, all those hunky little thieves in Washington and the legislatures, all those guys scrambling after the buck had better start doing their scrambling for licenses from the kingdom. Pretty damn soon, too. The big thing was by God about to happen. And it would be a chain reaction, not just here in New York but all over. The whole world, yeah.

Gambella went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then rinsed with mouthwash, gri

She was a pretty thing, all round eyed and scared out of her skull, one tit hanging outside her coat and getting massaged by Earl Lattio, Tommy's top gu

Lattio gave him a honky kind of a smile and slid out of the car to let the Caposlide in. Gambella removed his hat and shook the snow off, then handed it to Tommy Doctor who was watching him smugly from the front seat. Then Gambella looked at the cute kid and told her, "Put your titty back in before it catches cold."

She just sat there quivering, the big eyes looking at him like maybe he was the big hero she'd been looking for to show up and rescue her. He let her see a friendly smile then reached over and tucked the tight little titty in for her and rearranged her coat.

He said, "Didn't your momma ever tell you to wear a bra? They'll get all broke down and start sagging before you even so much as have a kid. What's your name, honey?"

Her lips moved ever so slightly and she whispered, "Evie."

"Is that what Bolan calls you?" he asked in a soft voice.

She just stared at him.

Tommy Doctor informed the Capoin that smooth college delivery, "We've assured the young lady that our concern for Mack is the same as her's. But she's hung up on something. She simply will not believe that we're trying to help the guy."

"Well you've got her all scared, that's why," Gambella purred. "Can't blame her, poor little thing, you guys playing with her titties and all that. What's your name, honey? Where do you live?"

A lengthy silence fell, then Tommy sighed and said, "It's been this way for two hours, Mr. Gambella. We talk to her but she doesn't talk to us. I think she's a dummy."

"And you a doctor with psychology?" the Caposaid. "I thought you knew how to handle people, Tommy."

The doctor smiled and spread his hands. "Psychology doesn't work too well on idiot mentalities," he explained.

"Aw, don't call her no idiot," Gambella said quietly. Somehow, in Tommy Doctor's presence he always felt compelled to talk just as streety as possible. He couldn't figure it — maybe he had to prove something to that snotty shit.

He hauled off suddenly and landed a flat-handed haymaker against the side of the cute kid's face. It sounded like a shot and the blow propelled her over against him where she started crying with jerky, gasping little sounds. He roughly hauled her upright and held her face close to speak quietly into it.

"She's not no idiot, she's just a mixed up kid. Isn't that right, honey?"