“The Raven Club arson job,” the mook gibbered. “The underground casinos on Wabash and 11th Street. The payoffs to Judge Shebin. And the murders of Waylon Boggs, Ted Klepper, and Joey the Snake.”
Gio considered this information. It certainly wasn't ideal for the Feds to know about any of that stuff, but he was pretty sure it was nothing that couldn't be fixed either, now that they knew what to cover up.
“Okay, time for your second question,” Gio continued. “And believe me, you really don't want to fuck with me on this one. Do the Feds have anyone else working undercover in our family? Think hard.”
“There's no one else,” he babbled. “There's just me, the Feds haven't been able to get anyone else inside your organization yet, I was supposed to bring in a couple more people next month but it's just me right now, no one else...”
“Hey, see? That right there, that's helpful,” Gio replied encouragingly. “That's the kind of stuff we want to hear about. Who were you planning to bring in next month? More agents? What were their names?”
He started shaking his head again before Gio had even finished his sentence. “No one told me yet. They just said they'd have me meet a couple guys soon, and that I should introduce them to you as my office staff.”
“Hmm,” Gio grunted, pretending to think it over. The truth was, he wasn't sure if he was trying to put off the unpleasant task of killing the guy, or if he was honestly trying to give the mook another chance to talk before he was forced to torture him.
He wished he were back at the wedding reception, sipping more champagne and swapping dirty jokes with the groomsmen. He wished he were at home, entertaining a beautiful guest in his Special Room. He wished he were anywhere but standing in the rain, shivering and summoning the courage to maim someone to death.
“You know something?” Gio asked, pocketing his gun. “I think I've decided to believe you. Why would the Feds give you a heads-up on who they were sending in, right? That's not how they do business.”
“Thank you,” he gushed, relieved. “Thank you, Gio, thank you...”
“No, don't thank me yet,” Gio said, shaking his head and lighting a cigarette. “There's still one last question. And this is the lightning round, so you'd better come up with the answer fast or shit's going to get real messy real quick. Ready?”
The mook nodded uneasily.
“Good,” Gio answered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Because when there's an asswipe walking around with a microphone taped to his tits, there's always another asswipe at the other end, listening in. The same asswipe who'd be giving the order for you to get pulled out of this situation, if we hadn't stomped the mic to pieces. The asswipe you've been feeding info to for months about our business—which also makes him the only asswipe who'll be qualified to try to take your place as an informant after you go missing. Especially if he's eager to get a little payback for his fallen comrade. Are you following my reasoning here?”
The mook shook his head violently, but Gio could tell he understood.
Fuck, are you really going to make me drag it out of you? Gio thought. Come on, don't make me do that. Neither of us is going to like it, and it's all going to end the same anyway.
“Give me his name,” Gio said. “And don't start off pretending you don't know it, because we both know that you'd damn sure know the name of the man who's watching your ass.”
Gio saw a strange flicker of hesitation in the mook's eyes before he answered. The look was oddly crafty, as though the mook had suddenly realized that he knew something Gio didn't.
Gio didn't like that.
“I won't tell you,” the mook said. “Kill me if you're gonna, but you're not getting his name out of me, no matter what.”
Gio shrugged expansively. “Well, fuck it,” he retorted. “I tried, didn't I?” He walked back to the driver's-side window of the car and leaned down, rapping on it gently. The window rolled down, revealing Bruno's bald, lumpy head.
“Try to aim for his lower body,” Gio told Bruno. “You run over his face, he might not be able to talk.”
Bruno nodded once, then rolled the window back up. Gio stepped back and Bruno revved the engine.
The sedan lunged forward. Its front and back wheels rolled over the mook's bloody legs, the headlights rearing up with each impact.
The mook shrieked, staring down at his mangled legs. In several places, broken bones protruded from the rags of his trousers.
Gio bent down and grabbed the mook's face, snarling into it. “Give me his name now, or I'll have Bruno put the car in reverse and we can do this again.”