The Bone Yard by Don Pendleton Read Free Book Online Page A

goddamn house at that hour of the morning, coming at him with a frigging sword...
    A knock on the office door distracted Frank Spinoza from his reverie. He swiveled toward the sound, taking a moment to blot his palms again with the handkerchief, now damp itself.
    "Come in."
    Paulie Vaccarelli stuck his head in through the door and mumbled, "Sorry for the interruption, boss."
    Paulie was Spinoza's "private secretary," in the jargon of the business. He had never heard of shorthand and the only typewriter he was familiar with was usually transported in a violin case. But he was indispensable at coping with the daily problems that arose from managing an empire, and Spinoza valued him.
    "What is it, Paulie?"
    The gunner frowned.
    "You got another call, line two. The Man."
    Spinoza felt the old familiar tightening in his stomach but he forced a practiced smile and thanked his Number Two, waiting until Paulie retreated before he reached for the phone.
    For an instant all he heard was the bottomless long-distance hum of the line, then the deep familiar voice filled up his ear.
    "This line secure?" the caller asked him.
    "Yes, sir. Checked out this morning." Damn the squeak in his voice!
    "I've been waiting for some word," The Man informed him, recrimination in his tone.
    "I was about to call you," Spinoza lied. "I just got off the phone with Johnny Cats."
    A hesitation on the line.
    "And how's he bearing up?"
    "He'd like to see some action on this thing. They all would."
    There was an expectant silence on the other end. Spinoza felt a sudden need to fill the yawning chasm.
    "I've arranged a meet for later in the morning here at my place. Just to keep things cool."
    "That's good," the caller said, and still his tone had reservations. "It's important that you keep the lid on, Frank. A deal is in the works, but any premature reactions on your end could dump it in the toilet."
    "I'm on top of it," Spinoza told him earnestly.
    "I hope so, Frank. I'm counting on you. Everybody's counting on you."
    The words had their desired effect. Spinoza felt the burden settling down across his shoulders like a physical weight. Unconsciously, it made him squirm.
    "Don't worry, sir. I've got a handle on this end, as long as Kuwahara pulls his horns in for the next few days."
    The caller's voice turned sharp.
    "No matter what, Frank. Keep the lid on. When it's time to move, you'll be the first to know."
    "Yes, sir."
    "I knew that you could do it." And the line went dead, the hollow humming in his ear again. As he reached out to cradle the receiver he saw his hand was trembling, and he brought it quickly back into his lap, covering it with his other. Spinoza sat staring at the silent telephone, skeptical that any deal New York came up with would be satisfactory to all concerned in Vegas. It sure as hell would not satisfy Minotte, cooling in a drawer down at the county morgue. And it would have to be some deal to satisfy Minotte's capo now or any of the others who were up in arms.
    Some deal.
    Like Seiji Kuwahara's head, for starters.
    Frank Spinoza made a conscious effort to calm down. It really did not matter to him what the deal was from New York — just as long as he was on the winning side when it all shook out in the end. And Spinoza had made a lifelong habit out of choosing winners. It was a knack he picked up on the streets of Brooklyn as a child, growing up wild and mean — incorrigible, they called it — with a father in jail and his mother working at a string of dead-end jobs that kept her out all hours of the day and night.
    He did not like to think about the jobs that she had taken, or the price that she had paid to keep him fed and clothed through frigid New York winters. He would have happily repaid her now — if she had not been gone these twenty years.
    Brooklyn was a hotbed for aspiring mafiosi in those days. Like now, he thought, but with a difference, right.
    The old Murder, Incorporated crew was still around the neighborhood back