See No Evil by Ron Felber Read Free Book Online Page B

taken in the late 1930s or early 1940s.
    Elliot’s eyes fell upon the man pictured in these photos, now in his seventies, lying on a couch holding his abdomen in obvious misery. His wife stood over him shaking her head with worry. As Elliot approached, he waved her off, and she left the room entirely. This was Carlo Gambino, capo di tutti capi , the boss of Mafia bosses and most powerful criminal in America.
    If Elliot was stunned for the moment, his healing instincts took over almost immediately. “It’s your abdomen, isn’t it? Your stomach?”
    The old man nodded.
    “Let me see,” he said moving Gambino’s hand aside and loosening his pajama bottoms.
    The moment he touched the Mafia boss, Elliot could feel the air in the room electrify as a flood of urgent-soundingSicilian cascaded back and forth between those in the room who were watching.
    “Hey!” he said turning. “I’ve got to examine him, don’t I?”
    “All right, all right,” Lou mitigated, “do what you need to, but let me know along the way, capesci ? ”
    Elliot didn’t answer, but instead explored the old man’s abdominal region. His stomach was swollen. His aorta was pulsating, and there was tenderness in the mid to lower abdomen. He could feel his bladder. All in all, Elliot realized this man was in serious trouble, and maybe so was he. He reached into his medical bag and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. “I’ve got to do a rectal,” he told the men behind him.
    Lou looked at him suspiciously. “What are you talkin’ about, a rectal?”
    Elliot gestured with his index finger moving it into his closed palm. “I have to … feel inside his rectum.”
    Lou’s eyes bulged. He turned to his cohorts, spoke in staccato Sicilian, and that’s when the floodgates opened, as each man reacted, one making an angry move toward Elliot, restrained by Lou, his English-speaking interpreter.
    “Now let me get this straight, Doc. You want to stick your finger up the boss’ ass, is that it? ’Cause if that’s it, there ain’t no fucking way I’m gonna let you do that!”
    “Look, Lou, I think your boss has what’s called an abdominal aortic aneurysm that may burst. If he does, he’s got to go to the hospital right now. I’ve got to catheterize him to take the urine out to relieve his pain and discomfort. If I don’t do those things very soon, he will die.”
    “No , Doc, no ! ” the bodyguard moaned.
    Lou turned away, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket. But before he could light it, Carlo Gambino’s frail, clawlike hand tugged at his arm. The old man simply nodded as it seemed he always did rather than speak, either in Sicilian orEnglish. It was then that it dawned on Elliot. The reason Don Carlo never spoke, but had others address him by physical signals, Sicilian, or coded phrases, was his fear of FBI surveillance : bugs, wiretaps, parabolic microphones. None of them did any good if you never spoke, using other forms of communication instead.
    Elliot rolled the old man over, pulled down his loosened pajama bottoms, and then did the unthinkable. He put his finger up Carlo Gambino’s rectum while a room full of his bodyguards and protectors watched. The old man let out a low moan, then cursed in Sicilian as Elliot felt the bulging arterial walls confirming what he feared. There was a real possibility that Gambino’s aorta would rupture before he could do anything .
    “I can help, but we have to get him to the medical center fast. If I call ahead, we can have everything waiting. They’ll take him to an emergency operating room where I can catheterize him and relieve his pain. Then he’ll go to the operating room to have his aneurysm repaired. He’ll be in the hospital for a while.”
    Lou shook his huge head from side to side with absolute resolve. “He can’t stay.”
    “ What ?”
    “Nobody can know he’s sick, Doc. He already had problems with his heart last year. Before that, too. He can’t be sick again, see what