the Plan (1995) (2 page)

"It's not smart for us to be involved too closely in anything," Paul said.

"Our plan is simple, but it's going to take some time. We have decided that you are going to be the President of the United States," Meyer said without preamble.

Wallace could see a change in Governor Arquette's demeanor. He seemed to glow with the prospect.

"How we gonna do that?" Paul asked softly.

"The world has changed," Meyer said as he picked up his glass of wine. "Radio made it small, TV made it smaller. Politics is changing. Nixon was smarter, better qualified than Kennedy to be the President, but Kennedy with them Boston manners and that flicking hair. He looks like a movie star, so the schmucks elect him. Nixon always looked like he should be selling dirty magazines. TV killed Nixon. TV is the future. You control TV, you control what people see, what people say, and what they think."

"Wallace and I have already begun to liquidate the real estate we own and started looking around for electronic media properties to buy," Joseph continued. "Once we own a television network, we're gonna use it to put Paul in the White House."

". . . And once you're there," Meyer said softly, "you're gonna fire these new fucks in the FBI and over at Justice. You're gonna appoint a new attorney general, new head of the FBI. You pick guys like Hoover who will look the other way. And then, when you get Supreme Court openings, you're gonna start packing the bench with judges who don't like RICO. We're gonna either overturn this thing or neutralize it with friendly cops." Meyer tried to set the wineglass down on the table but misjudged, and it tipped over.

All of them watched the drops of port as they spattered on the beige carpet, leaving a stain that looked like blood.

The pale morning sunlight woke Paul Arquette early. He was still flush with ambition and the thought of being President. He showered and, before he went down for breakfast, heard Joseph's limousine leave to take Meyer Lansky to the airport.

The dining room was huge, with a forty-foot-long marble table and high-backed chairs that Joseph had imported from Italy. Mickey Alo was already in the room with his prep school roommate. Paul couldn't take his eyes off the remarkably handsome boy. Penny sat at the foot of the table.

"Ready to murder a few ducks?" Joseph said as he swept into the room a few minutes later. Paul had always thought duck hunting was one of mankind's least noble adventures.

"Did you get enough to eat?" Penny asked.

"Up to here." Paul motioned as he smiled broadly.

It had always amazed him that Joseph had managed to hook a woman like Penny. What could she possibly see in the Sicilian gangster? She came from a wealthy family. She was cultured and refined. She was like a pearl in a pan of gravel, and Paul thought she didn't belong married to Joseph. But maybe she found his power seductive. He wondered what she would be. like in bed.

The men walked into the den, where the twelve-gauge bird slayers were in slots behind the glass of a built-in oak wall cabinet.

Paul chose an English Purdy over-and-under, with an initialed stock and solid-gold butt plate.

"That thing was custom-made," Joseph bragged. "Cost more than a hundred grand, so don't drop it in the mud, Paul."

Joseph lifted out a Beretta with a five-load magazine and engraved barrel.

They slogged along, their valuable shotguns broke
n o
pen to expose the breeches. Mickey Alo had an English handmade Purdy, the stock cut short for his pudgy arms. Ryan Bolt walked beside him, unarmed.

The dog Rex was still a puppy and in high spirits. He was snapping at the air and, barking with mischief, charging right and left, eyes happy, tongue lolling. Joseph Alo yelled at him and he cocked his head, a "Whatsamatta guys?" look on his friendly face.

He was a Chesapeake, and beautiful--a rich, chocolate color with soft brown eyes.

"Fucking dog," Joseph cursed under his breath. "Gonna scare the ducks off. Get back here, Rex."

The dog wagged his tail and trotted back.

"Dog's supposed to be trained. Hired a guy in Jersey City to come down here every day for three months."

Rex looked up, puzzled. They tramped on through the damp yellow grass, sprinkled with the red and gold paint chips of autumn.

Paul moved across the marshy land, his borrowed rubber boots making slurpy sounds.

Then two ducks broke in front of them, flapping hard, rising at desperate angles, their long necks stretching. Joseph snapped shut his breech and started firing. One of the ducks went down, fluttering and spiraling. It hit with a rustle a hundred yards away. The other was still airborne. Paul had it in his sights, but he couldn't bear to shoot it and pulled off, aiming to the right just as the pudgy clown prince fired. . . Two hundred thousand dollars' worth of English Purdys thundered in unison. Mickey got the second bird.

"Fetch, Rex," Joseph commanded, and the dog headed off in the wrong direction.

"Back, Rex!" Joseph yelled as the confused dog turned and trotted back.

Joseph tried again. "Fetch, Rex."

The dog looked up at him, perplexed.

"Fetch, damn it!" Joseph was turning red with anger. He kicked the dog in the hind end and it squealed and too
k o
ff, ran fifteen or twenty feet, then turned and looked back, his brown eyes puzzled.

"Fetch," Joseph screamed, nearly out of control.

Rex bolted into the high grass. They could hear him crashing around, breaking reeds, barking.

"Your dog is worthless, Mickey," Joseph said, trying to contain his anger.

"Pretty disappointing." Mickey's black eyes were dancin g.

And then Rex came back, the duck hanging from his mouth. He dropped the bird proudly at Joseph's feet. Joseph picked it up. A deadly shadow crossed his face.

"Chewed the fucking duck. Broke all the bones! How we gonna eat this?" he yelled at the dog.

Rex stood there, panting happily. Joseph went wild with anger. He tried to kick the dog again, but Rex was too fast. He dodged Joseph's boot, and Joseph went down in muddy water.

Rex backed up, spread his front legs, and barked at the mobster, who was sitting on the ground, his clothing filling with brackish water. Rex kept backing up and barking.

Then, smoldering with hatred, Joseph yanked the Beretta up, aimed it at Rex, pulled back the hammer, and fired.

Rex flew backward, his shoulders and head instantly turned to red mist . . . obliterated by the buckshot He landed on his side in the yellow grass, his feet reflexively running, going nowhere. *

Paul Arquefte felt like throwing up. He looked at Ryan, who had his hand to his mouth in absolute shock. Then Paul noticed that Mickey was smiling. The only two people who understood Rex's death were Joseph and his fifteen-year-old son. For some reason, Mickey thought it was funny.

They walked numbly back to the house, where Lucinda was waiting.

"Where's Rex?" she asked. Nobody answered. "Daddy, where is he?"

"Rex didn't make it," Mickey said. "He accidentally got shot."

She was halfway up the stairs before they could hear her wailing in grief.

February 5, 1981

C. Wallace Litman, controlling stockholder in Litstar Industries, a holding company he established in the mid-sixties, announced today that he had acquired nearly ten percent of United Broadcasting Company. The TV network has been riding high in the ratings and is scheduled to broadcast the Summer Olympics in 1984. C. Wallace Litman said that Litstar has no plans to launch a full-scale takeover of the network.

September 10, 1992

An overlong Emmycast produced few surprises last night. The Mechanic swept up most of the dramatic Emmys as expected, winning in the Best Actor and Actress categories along with Best Drama. Series creator and executive producer Ryan Bolt accepted for the show, saying that he was overcome with gratitude. The Mechanic, which depicts the adventures of a simple, blue-collar garage mechanic, has been heralded as a breakthrough in dramatic television, touching on humanity and the depth of the human spirit. . . .

November 8, 1986

HEAD OF VEGAS ORGANIZED CRIME UNIT QUITS

Solomon Kazorowski put in his papers for an earl
y r
etirement Monday. Kazorowski, who had heade
d t
he Las Vegas Organized Crime Strike Force, was a legend in this city. He ran his elite group of crime busters from a deserted dress shop on Calvary Street and was noted for his tenacious pursuit of casino mob connections, specifically targeting alleged Jersey mobster Joseph Mo. Kazorowski, known in Las Vegas circles for his flamboyant Hawaiian shirts and reckless enthusiasm, was recently embarrassed by a bill at the Flamingo. He had allowed the casino to comp him for over five hundred dollars' worth of champagne and food. The resulting furor led to his resignation.

March 9, 1982

A RICO prosecution of Anthony Colombo of New York was announced Friday by members of the U
. S
. Attorney's office in New York The alleged gang boss was indicted on counts of murder, attempted murder, extortion, narcotics trafficking, postal theft, mail and wire find. The defendants included three sons of the late family boss Joseph Colombo. Twenty-two of the family's more active associates were included in the indictment. Sources close to the prosecution speculate that several of those indicted have made deals with the government to testify against Tony Colombo and his top lieutenants. *

January 10, 1996

Veteran network TV news reporter Cole Harris was discharged from his post as correspondent for the UBC news division in New York The dismissal was apparently over Cole's refusal to drop a story on organized crime in American politics. The expose dealt with the undenvorld's attempts to influence politicians, with emphasis on Atlantic City's politica l t ies to hotel gambling and the Mafia. The documentary was scheduled to air on Sunday, January 9, and according to inside sources was pulled at the last minute. Steve Israel, head of UBC's news division, said that the documentary entitled "Mob Voices" had been inconclusive and that UBC had elected not to air it for legal reasons.

Saturday, January 22, 1983

Meyer Lansky is dead at 80. His departure is cause for an odd sadness, not for Lansky, a gangster who had a long run and died in bed. But for the rest of us, because now it will be impossible to discover the full history of the United States in this century. The man who was born Maier Suchowljansky was crucial to that history, and he has gone without breaking the code of silence.

It was Meyer, they said, who nailed J. Edgar Hoover. The way the story goes, Hoover was a homosexual operating in the deepest of closets. Meyer found that closet, had photographs made, and used those photographs as a grant of immunity.

His name is part of our history and our legend. But when the obits ran the other day, there was a sense that the true story was now gone forever.

Chapter
1.

January 3, 1996

MICKEY ALO TIPPED THE SEAT BACK BUT DIDN'T SLEEP.

He looked out the window of the Lear-55 at the blue-gree
n r
eef fifteen thousand feet below. His father's pilot, Milo
Duleo, had just announced that they were about to mak e t heir descent into Grand Bahama island. Mickey rubbe d t he stubble on his chin and wondered what the hell Paul Arquette was trying to pull. The call had been screwy.

Paul's voice screeched at him through fifteen hundre
d m
iles of Atlantic Bell cable.

"I can't tell you on the phone . . . but it's important. You can land at the deserted military field at Sand Dollar Beach. You won't have to clear customs or immigration. Nobody will ever know you're down here."

In the two rear seats of the plane, New York Tony Demarco and Little Pussy Bono were snoring contentedly. New York Tony had been Mickey's bodyguard since he was at Harvard back in the late seventies; now he was his capo, or right hand. Tony was short and muscular with a head as big as a truck tire and a complexion like luna r l ava. Little Pussy Bono had gotten his name and reputation as a cat burglar in New York, but now he handled special assignments for the Alo family. He had been working mostly for Mickey, now that Joseph Alo was sick. Little Pussy was slender and hawk-faced. Like most cat burglars, God had designed him for air-conditioning vents and small openings-

The pressure in the rich gray and burl-wood cabin changed as New York Tony and Little Pussy sat up and rubbed their eyes.

Two minutes later, the plane touched down at the end of the apron and taxied to a stop. Mickey turned to face the two men in the seats behind him. "I don't know what's going on. Get a map of this fucking place and line up a car, don't rent it, steal something, and stay handy. In case I need you, I want you ready to move. No phone calls, no contact with anyone, no record we were ever here." Mickey didn't quite know why, but he sensed impending disaster.

"Right," New York Tony said, stretching out his stumpy legs-