The Anderson Tapes (12 page)

ANDERSON: A little.

ANGELO: Did you ever hear about that campaign in Detroit on… .

We hit the… . We used about… . What we did was to create a diversion. It pulled off all the precinct buttons to … and while they were… . And it worked perfectly. Something like that might work here.

ANDERSON: It might.

ANGELO: You don’t sound very enthusiastic.

ANDERSON: I got to think about it.

D’MEDICO: Here’s the wine, Pat. Chilled just a little … the way you like it.

ANGELO: Fine. Thank you, Doctor. So you want to think about it, do you, Duke?

ANDERSON: Yes. It’s
my
cock.

ANGELO: It surely is. All right. Supposing Papa gives the go-ahead.

What will you need? Have you thought of that?

ANDERSON: Yes, I thought of that. I’ll need another two thousand to complete the sweep.

ANGELO: The reconnaissance?

ANDERSON: That’s right. To figure how we’ll handle it.

ANGELO: Operations and deployment. And then what?

ANDERSON: You’ll get a final shakedown on the whole bit. Then if you okay, I’ll need the loot to pay off my five men. Half in advance, half when the job’s finished.

D’MEDICO: About two thousand for looking, and then another four or five for your staff?

ANDERSON: That’s about it.

D’MEDICO: All advances and expenses out of the take before the split?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: I’ve got to get out of here and over to Manhattan. I’m late as it is. Duke, I want to talk to the Doctor. You understand?

ANDERSON: Sure. I appreciate you giving me this time.

ANGELO: We’ll get in touch with you—one way or the other—in a week or so. I’ve got to talk to Papa and, as you probably know, he’s ailing. We should all live to be ninety-four and ailing.

D’MEDICO: Amen.

ANDERSON: Nice to meet you, Mr. Angelo. Thanks, Mr. D’Medico.

D’MEDICO: A pleasure, Duke. We’ll be in touch.

[Lapse of seventeen seconds.]

D’MEDICO: How did you know he was from Kentucky, Tennessee—

around there?

ANGELO: I recognized him the minute he walked in. Not him, but the type. A mountain man. God knows I saw enough of them in Korea. Kentucky, Tennessee, West Virginia. Rough boys. As rough as the Southerners … but they never bugged out.

Sometimes you get some freaky Southerners. I never saw a freaky mountain man. They’re all born piss-poor. They got nothing but their pride. I had some mountain men who never had a pair of new shoes until they got in the army. This Anderson … Jesus Christ, he reminds me so much of a guy I had. He was from Tennessee. Best shot I ever saw. I was a First Looey then. I had this patrol, and we were going down a dry creek bed. This mountain man was point. The target. We went through three points in three days. They fired on the point and that’s how we knew where they were.

D’MEDICO: That’ s nice.

ANGELO: Yes. So this Tennessee mountain man was point, about twenty yards or so ahead of me. A gook comes out of the bushes and charges at him. The gook has a kitchen knife tied to a long pole with string. He was probably hopped up. He comes charging out screaming. My guy could have shot him dead—one, two, three. Like that. But he didn’t. He laughed. I swear to God, he laughed. He had his blade on his rifle, and he waited for the gook to come to him. It was classic. Jesus, it was classic. I had been through all the bayonet stuff: advance, parry, thrust. Book stuff. And this was right out of the book. Classic. They could have taken pictures of it for an army manual. My guy took the position, shuffled forward, and when the gook shoved at him, he parried, got his stick in the gook’s stomach, withdrew, stuck again into his balls, turned the blade, withdrew, shoved the bayonet into the ground to clean it, and turned and grinned at me. He liked it. There were guys like that. They liked it. They enjoyed it. War, I mean.

D’MEDICO: What happened to him?

ANGELO: Who?

D’MEDICO: Your guy.

ANGELO: Oh. Well, the company went back to Tokyo on leave. This Tennessee guy got caught raping a nine-year-old Japanese girl.

He got racked up.

D’MEDICO: Where is he now?

ANGELO: Still in Leavenworth as far as I know. So tell me about this Anderson. What do you know?

D’MEDICO: He came out of the South about ten years ago. A helluva driver. I think he was driving alky for Solly Benedict down there.

Anyway, he sliced someone and had to come north. Solly called me about him. About the same time my cousin Gino had a hustle planned. Did you ever meet Gino?

ANGELO: No, I don’t believe I ever did.

D’MEDICO: Christ, my face is killing me. Well, it was a warehouse job.

Drugs. Pep pills, I think they were. It was cased perfect, but someone tipped the Safe and Loft Squad. We took care of him later. Anyway, I recommended Anderson as the driver, and Gino says okay. The plan was for Gino and two muscles to pull up in his car, Anderson driving. Park a block away. Anderson is told to stay there until Gino returns. The idea is that they’ll break the warehouse, the two dumdums will drive the truck out, and Gino will return to where Anderson is waiting in the car.

ANGELO: So?

D’MEDICO: So everything goes wrong. Floodlights, sirens, bullhorns, riot guns, barkers … the whole bit. The two muscles get cut down. Gino takes a bad one in the gut and staggers around the corner. He’s told Anderson to stay there, and with all this going on, Anderson is still there.

ANGELO: A mountain man.

D’MEDICO: Yes. He didn’t cut. Well, he gets Gino into the car and gets him to a sawbones. It saved his life.

ANGELO: What’s he doing now?

D’MEDICO: Gino? He’s got this little candy store in Newark. He takes some numbers, handles a few loans. Penny-ante stuff.

He’s not too good … but he’s alive. I feed him what I can. But I never forgot. Duke sitting there while the shit hit the fan. He’s some man.

ANGELO: I figured that. Then what happened with him?

D’MEDICO: He didn’t want any jobs. He wanted to freelance. He cleared everything with me first, and I gave him the go-ahead. He did very well. He’s a smart boy, Pat. He learned fast. He hit some East Side apartments for a bundle. Ice, mostly. Never carried a stick. Got clever. In and out so fast and so smooth they could never figure how. He was doing all right. Maybe three or four jobs a year. Always made his contribution and never screamed. I kept track and found out he was bent, sex-wise.

ANGELO: How do you mean?

D’MEDICO: Whips … you know.

ANGELO: Which way is he? This is important.

D’MEDICO: Both ways, from what I hear. Then he pulled this job and was waiting on a corner for this Jew bitch he had to pass the stuff to—it was only about a block away—when some lucky probationary patrolman decided he didn’t like his looks and shook him down. That kid is a Dick Two now. So Duke went up. The woman wasn’t touched; he never mentioned her. I heard she was late for the meet because she was at her stockbroker’s.

ANGELO: Beautiful. You been keeping in touch with her?

D’MEDICO: Oh, sure. Since Duke brought up this campaign we been checking her out. She’s got a record, and she’s hustling right now—shmeck, tail, abortion—the whole bit. She works in a dance hall Sam Bergman owns. We can lean on her any time we want to.

ANGELO: Good. How did Anderson get on to this thing on the East Side?

D’MEDICO: He’s pronging a woman who lives there. We don’t know how he met her. But he’s in and out of the place at least twice a week. A big dame who looks like money.

ANGELO: All right. I guess that’s about it. Christ, have we finished another bottle? My God, I’ve
got
to get to Manhattan.

D’MEDICO: Pat, how do you feel about it?

ANGELO: If it was up to me, I’d say no. Look, Doc, we’re in restaurants, hotels, banks, linen supply, insurance, trucking, laundromats, garbage disposal—all nice, clean, legit things. And the profits are good. So why do we need this bang-bang stuff?

D’MEDICO: Still … you’re interested?

ANGELO: Yes … I guess I am. It’s a military problem. Look at me …

I’m a businessman, my gut is swelling, my ass is sinking, I’ve got a wife and three kids, I belong to four clubs, I play golf every good weekend, I go to the PTA with my wife, I worry about crab grass, I’ve got a poodle with worms. In other words, I’m a solid citizen.

But sometimes I look at myself in the mirror—the belly, the jowls, the fat thighs, the soft cock, and I think I was happier in Korea.

D’MEDICO: Pat, maybe you’re one of those guys you were telling me about—the guys who enjoy war.

ANGELO: Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is, I hear of something like this and I get all excited. My brain starts working. I’m young again.

A campaign. Problems. How to figure it. It’s really something. But I wouldn’t decide without talking it over with Papa. First of all, I owe it to him. Second, of all, he may be bedridden with maybe a fat boy now and then to keep him warm, but his mind is still there—sharp and hard. I’ll lay it out for him. He likes to feel he’s still needed, still making the decisions. Jesus Christ, we got a thousand lawyers and CPA’s making decisions he couldn’t even understand—but a problem like this, he can understand. So I’ll lay it out for him. If he says no, it’s no. If he says yes, it’s yes. I’ll let you know within a week or so. Is that all right?

D’MEDICO: Of course. Got anyone in mind for the sixth man?

ANGELO: No. Do you?

D’MEDICO: A guy named Sam Heming. A nothing. All muscle, no brains. But he’s one of Paul Washington’s boys.

ANGELO: A smoke?

D’MEDICO: He is, but he passes.

ANGELO: Why him?

D’MEDICO: I owe Paul a favor.

ANGELO: Linda Curtis?

D’MEDICO: You don’t miss much, do you?

ANGELO: No, Doc, not much. Heming is okay with me if he’s solid.

D’MEDICO: He’s solid.

ANGELO: Good. Papa will want to know. I’ll tell him you go for this guy. Okay?

D’MEDICO: Yes … if it’s necessary.

ANGELO: It’s necessary. Jesus Christ, Doc, you’re twitching like a maniac. Can’t you do anything about that face of yours?

D’MEDICO: No. Not a thing.

ANGELO: Tough shit. I’ve got to run. Thanks for the dinner and vino.

D’MEDICO: My pleasure. I’ll hear from you on this in a week or so?

ANGELO: Sure. Oh … by the way, Doc, keep an eye on Fred Simons.

D’MEDICO: Anything wrong?

ANGELO: Not yet. But he’s been hitting the sauce hard lately. Maybe talking a little more than he should. Just a friendly tip.

D’MEDICO: Of course. Thanks. I’ll call it to his attention.

ANGELO: You do that.

Tape recording POM-9JUL68-EVERLEIGH. Time is approximately 2:45 P.M.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Let me get you a big drink. I want you to sit quietly for a while. I want to show you some pictures—my photo album.

ANDERSON: All right.

[Lapse of sixteen seconds.]

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Here … just the way you like it—one ice cube.

Here we go. I bought this album at Mark Cross. It’s nice, isn’t it?

ANDERSON: Yes.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Here … this tintype. This was my great-grandfather on my father’s side. He was in the Civil War. That’s the uniform of a captain he’s wearing. The picture was made when he came home on leave. Then he lost an arm at Antietam.

But they let him keep his company. They didn’t care so much about things like that in those days.

ANDERSON: I know. My great-grandpappy went through the Second Wilderness with a wooden leg.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Then, after the war, he came home and married my great-grandmother. Here’s their wedding photo. Wasn’t she the tiniest, sweetest, prettiest thing you’ve ever seen? Raised seven children in Rockford, Illinois. Now this is the only picture I have of my mother’s parents. He was an older man, had a general store near Sewickley in Pennsylvania. His wife was a real monster. I remember her vaguely. I guess I got my size from her.

She was huge—and ugly. My mother was an only child. Here’s my mother’s graduating class. She went two years to a teachers’

college. The one with the circle is her. This little fellow is my father at the age of ten. Wasn’t he cute? Then he went to Yale. Look at that hat he’s wearing! Isn’t that a scream? He rowed for them. And he was a great swimmer, too. Here he is in a swimsuit. This was taken during his last year at Yale.

ANDERSON: Looks like he was hung.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Bastard. Well, I can tell you he was all man. Tall and muscular. He met my mother at a prom, and they got married right after he graduated. He started as a junior clerk in Wall Street about three years before World War One. My brother Ernest was born in 1915, but when America got into the war, Daddy enlisted.

He went overseas in 1918. I don’t think he ever actually saw any action. Here he is in his uniform.

ANDERSON: Those wraparound puttees must have been murder. My mother’s first husband got killed with the Marines on the Marne.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: That couldn’t have been your father?

ANDERSON: No. My pappy was her third husband.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Well, here’s Mom and Daddy with Ernie and Tom—he was the second-born. He was missing in action in France in World War Two. Then here’s Mother holding me in her arms—the first picture ever taken of me. Wasn’t I cute?

ANDERSON: Yes.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Then here are some pictures of me growing up.

Bloomers. Gym suit. Bathing suit. We went to a cabin on a lake up in Canada. Here are all the kids—Ernest and Thomas and me and Robert. All of us.

ANDERSON: You were the only girl?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Yes. But I could keep up with them, and after a while I could outswim them all. Mother got sick and was in bed a lot, and Daddy was busy with his business. So the four of us kids were together a lot. Ernie was the leader because he was oldest, but when he went to Dartmouth, I took over. Tom and Bob never had the authority that Ernie had.

ANDERSON: How old were you when that one was taken?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: About thirteen, I think.

ANDERSON: A great pair of lungs.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Yes, I matured early. The story of my life. I started bleeding at eleven. Look at the shoulders I had, and those thighs.