Permanent Interests by James Bruno Read Free Book Online Page A

Pironi's. In business steadily since the turn of the century, Pironi's was a haunt of several generations of Malandrinos. Al's niece, in fact, had married the son of the proprietor. Al had a semiconscious superstition about the place, that it held a metaphysical immunity. Like some mystical Wagnerian Ring, it kept the Feds at a safe distance. He ordered a pot of espresso and some biscotti.
    Richard Anthony "Ricky" Laguzza walked in. Ricky was Al's nephew, the adopted son of Francesco "Little Shoes" Fagliarone, a long-time Colombo stalwart and politically influential don who died a natural death at 89.
    "Uncle Cheech," as he was affectionately known, never had a blood son. After Ricky's widowed father became a fatal casualty in the Riccobene Wars of 1982-84, Cheech took his boy under his wing. What the flashy, young street tough failed to learn in the way of class from the older man, he made up for in a singular lust for getting his own way.
    "I just had East-West talks with our pals again," Al said as he shoveled a fourth spoonful of sugar into the demitasse. He signaled for Ricky to sit.
    As he took a seat, Ricky straightened his gray sharkskin suit over a muscled frame otherwise clad in a black T-shirt and no socks. "What, the Russians?"
    "Yakov. He's getting impatient. Wants insider information again. Told him things are still too hot."
    Ricky grunted and slurped his coffee after gulping a cannolli down in one bite. He cast a lascivious eye at a well-proportioned waitress who whisked by with a tray of antipasti. "This gonna be a regular thing, or what?"
    "Naw. Too risky. His guy, that, uh, Dimitrov guy. He's the go-between."
    PERMANENT INTERESTS
    47
    Ricky choked, spraying a fine mist of Lavazza on the lapels of his silk Guido Ceruti suit.
    " Minghia! Uncle Al. Not that guy. He's a fuckin'
    nightmare on two legs. He's wigged out. He makes me look normal."
    "You two have a lot in common," Al said with a smirk.
    "That's why you're gonna deal with him on my behalf." Al raised a hand and closed his eyes before Ricky could get a word out.
    "I can't take any chances. You know that. Yakov says the DEA just raided his warehouses, in Jersey. The heat's on him just like it's on me. I can't afford to be careless. He thinks he's still in Moscow where all the cops are on the take and things are out of control. Let him take all the risks. That's why I need a buffer -- and you're it."
    "You saw the job they done on Morty. So, the guy had it coming. But, Christ, they didn't have to turn him into chopped meat. Yakov's okay. For a Jew. We all make money together. But his men, they all did duty in Afghanistan and Chechnya. Made 'em all gonzo. They all got that post … shell-shocked syndrome, or whatever the hell they call it. They’ll shoot you dead just to see if their gun works"
    Al gestured that he didn't want to hear any more objections. "What're you doing lately? Back to collecting rents. Hustling for Al-Mac Construction. Making sure all our mom 'n' pop bookies keep the payments up."
    Ricky looked away.
    "I don't know about you, but I'm bored stiff. More important, Al Persico, Barney Bellomo, you think they aren't watching us? They're just waiting to pounce. They see the first sign we're floundering, BAM! They'll hit us so hard, it'll make our heads spin."
    "Barney's in the slammer."
    48 JAMES
    BRUNO
    "Slammer, schlammer! These guys can run their outfits out of a whale's ass. They smell weakness like a fly smells shit. Believe me. They'll hear about Al Malandrino being on the ropes faster than I will."
    Ricky reflected silently for several minutes, his eyes locked onto the sugar bowl as he aimlessly churned the contents with a spoon. He had come a long way since Uncle Cheech rescued him from certain hard time in the joint when he was only seventeen. Cheech worked the system to get Ricky off on a murder one rap. He had kidnapped Joey Lupica, a rival suitor for Ricky's girl, tied him up and slammed him repeatedly in the head with a