Shock Waves(22)

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that no one on his payroll took a hit. You lost two cars, two men. I didn't see a scratch on Jules or Lester."

Minelli frowned, thinking it through, winding up where he started. "What's the point?"

"Could be anything. Disrupt the meet. Make you look bad. Give someone the excuse they need."

"Goddamn it."

Lazarus was staring at his steepled fingers, frowning. "Of course, there's another possibility."

"I'm listening."

"You've got more delegations coming in throughout the day. It could be any one of them. It might not be the Coast at all."

"So what about this phony Ace — assuming that he is a phony?"

Another shrug from the enforcer.

"Either way, he could be working for another family."

"You just said he was talking to the girl."

"Coincidence?"

Minelli snorted, rocked back in his swivel chair.

"We can't leave anything to chance. I want a hard eye on that bitch around the clock. She doesn't take a leak unless I know about it. Clear?"

The Black Ace nodded. "Done."

"I want a roving guard on the perimeter. No more surprises like this morning."

"I've got people on it now."

"As for this other thing, our uninvited visitor..."

Lazarus did not wait for him to finish.

"The gate's alerted now. He won't be coming in that way again. I've got my people on alert for any unfamiliar faces. And we got his number."

"What?"

"His license plate. One of our friends on the police department ran it through."

"So?"

"It's a rental."

"Shit."

The Black Ace raised a placating hand.

"I've got a man en route right now to check it out. He'll let us have a name within the hour."

Minelli shook his head.

"And what the hell will that prove, huh? You think the bastard left his name? You think he even still remembers what it is?"

"It's a start."

The capo glowered.

"What I want, goddamn it, is a finish. Everything wrapped up, no more loose ends."

"You'll have it," the Ace assured him. "It just takes time."

"We haven't got a lot to spare. And we can't afford any more fuck-ups like this morning." He swiveled toward the window, stared across the wide expanse of lawn. "If there's any more shooting around here, I want to do it myself."

He felt, rather than heard, the Black Ace rise from his chair. Lazarus was halfway to the door when he hesitated, turning back toward Minelli.

"There's nothing going on that I can't handle," he said.

Minelli did not turn to meet his eyes.

"I hope not," he replied. "For both our sakes."

Lazarus closed the door and the capo was left alone. He welcomed solitude, a chance to sort his thoughts and put the pieces of the puzzle in place. They were multiplying lately, getting out of hand, and it was a damned uncomfortable feeling, despite the soldier's best efforts to sound reassuring.

And Minelli wondered how long Lazarus would stay aboard the sinking ship if things went sour. Not much longer, he surmised, than it would take to pack a bag and throw it in the car.

Suspicion of the Aces was widespread within the brotherhood, despite their legendary faithfulness. They were a breed apart, conceived to serve la commissione directly, and as the syndicate's gestapo they had cherished secrets that made them more awesome, perhaps, than they actually were. Dispersed and badly shaken in the Bolan wars, they had regrouped, after a fashion, but the Aces were still not restored to their former station. More than soldiers, less than bosses, they existed in a sort of limbo, without official rank, and it was tempting to suspect that they might scheme together, plot to seize the ruling power for themselves.

It was a problem he would have to deal with, Don Minelli thought, when he was finally in charge. A weapon that could not be handled was a liability to its owner and should be destroyed for safety's sake. If he could not control the Aces, bend them to his will... then they would have to go. And permanently this time.

If Lazarus was right in his assessment, if communications were so bad that one hand never knew what the other was doing, then it should be a relatively easy task. If not...

The possibility that Lazarus was lying, for whatever reason, had not escaped Minelli. Anything was possible, and no one knew that any better than the capo for Manhattan.

He himself was living proof that miracles can happen. He had emerged from the ashes of destruction to conceive a dream of an empire, see it come within his grasp. And he could almost feel it now, could almost taste the fruits of victory. No man alive would stand between Minelli and his goal.