He hung up and hurried back to the car. Rosa looked at his face and asked, "Is everything all right, Michael?"

"I don't know. I'm going to drop you off at your cousin's. Stay there until you hear from me.

Tony followed Michael into the office in the rear of the restaurant.

"I got word that the Feds are crawlin' all over your house and the downtown office, Mike."

"Thanks," Michael said. "I don't want to be disturbed."

"You won't be."

Michael waited until Tony walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. Then Michael picked up the telephone and furiously began to dial.

It took Michael Moretti less than twenty minutes to learn that a major disaster was taking place. As the reports of the raids and arrests began to filter in, Michael received them with mounting disbelief. All his soldiers and lieutenants were being picked up. Drops were being raided; gambling operations were being seized; confidential ledgers and records were being impounded. What was happening was a nightmare. The police had to be obtaining information from someone in his Organization.

Michael placed telephone calls to other Families around the country, and all of them demanded to know what was going on. They were being badly hurt and no one knew where the leak was coming from. They all suspected it was coming from the Moretti Family.

Jimmy Guardino, in Las Vegas, gave him an ultimatum. "I'm calling on behalf of the Commission, Michael." The National Commission was the supreme power that superseded the power of any individual Family when there was trouble. "The police are rounding up all the Families. Someone big is singing. The word we get is that it's one of your boys. We're giving you twenty-fours to find him and take care of him."

In the past, police raids had always netted the small fry, the expendables. Now, for the first time, the men at the top were being pulled in. Someone big is singing. The word we get is that it's one of your boys. Someone big is singing. The word we get is that it's one of your boys. They had to be right. Michael's Family had been the hardest hit, and the police were looking for him. Someone had given them solid evidence, or they never would have mounted a campaign this big. But who could it be? Michael sat back, thinking. They had to be right. Michael's Family had been the hardest hit, and the police were looking for him. Someone had given them solid evidence, or they never would have mounted a campaign this big. But who could it be? Michael sat back, thinking.

Whoever was tipping off the authorities had inside information that was known only to Michael and his two top lieutenants, Salvatore Fiore and Joseph Colella. Only the three of them knew where the ledgers were hidden, and the FBI had found them. The only other person who would have had the information was Thomas Colfax, but Colfax was buried under a garbage dump in New Jersey.

Michael sat there and thought about Salvatore Fiore and Joseph Colella. It was difficult to believe that either one of them could have broken omerta omerta and talked. They had been with him from the beginning; he had handpicked them. He had allowed them to have their own loan-sharking operation on the side and to run a small prost.i.tution ring. Why would they betray him? The answer, of course, was simple: the chair he was sitting in. They wanted his chair. Once he was out, they could move in and take over. They were a team; they had to be in it together. and talked. They had been with him from the beginning; he had handpicked them. He had allowed them to have their own loan-sharking operation on the side and to run a small prost.i.tution ring. Why would they betray him? The answer, of course, was simple: the chair he was sitting in. They wanted his chair. Once he was out, they could move in and take over. They were a team; they had to be in it together.

Michael was filled with a murderous rage. The stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were trying to pull him down, but they would not live long enough to enjoy it. The first thing he had to do was arrange bail for his men who had been arrested. He needed a lawyer he could trust-Colfax was dead, and Jennifer-Jennifer! Michael could feel the coldness creeping around his heart again. In his head he could hear himself saying, Get back as fast as you can. I'll miss you. I love you, Jennifer. Get back as fast as you can. I'll miss you. I love you, Jennifer. He had said that and she had betrayed him. She would pay for that. He had said that and she had betrayed him. She would pay for that.

Michael made a telephone call and sat back to wait, and fifteen minutes later Nick Vito hurried into the office.

"What's happening?" Michael asked.

"The place is still buzzin' with Feds, Mike. I drove around the block a couple of times, but I did like you said. I stayed away."

"I've got a job for you, Nick."

"Sure, boss. What can I do for you?"

"Take care of Salvatore and Joe."

Nick Vito stared at him. "I-I don't understand. When you say, take care of them, take care of them, you don't mean-" you don't mean-"

Michael shouted, "I mean blow their f.u.c.king brains out! Do you need a blueprint?"

"N-no," Nick Vito stammered. "It's just that I-I-I mean-Sal and Joe are your top men!"

Michael Moretti moved to his feet, his eyes dangerous. "You want to tell me how to run my business, Nick?"

"No, Mike. I-sure. I'll take care of them for you. When-?"

"Now. Right away. I don't want them to live to see the moon tonight. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. I understand."

Michael's hands tightened into fists. "If I had time, I'd take care of them myself. I want them to hurt, Nick. Make it slow, you hear? Suppilu suppilu. Suppilu suppilu."

"Sure. Okay."

The door opened and Tony hurried in, his face gray. "There's two FBI agents out there with a warrant for your arrest. I swear to G.o.d I don't know how they knew you was here. They-"

Michael Moretti turned to Nick Vito and snapped, "Out the back way. Move!" He turned to Tony. "Tell them I'm in the can. I'll be right with them."

Michael picked up the telephone and dialed a number. One minute later he was talking to a judge of the Superior Court of New York.

"There are two Feds out here with a warrant for my arrest."

"What are the charges, Mike?"

"I don't know and I don't give a s.h.i.t. I'm calling you to set things up so that I'm bailed out. I can't sit around in the slammer. I've got things to do."

There was a silence and the judge's voice said carefully, "I'm afraid I won't be able to help you this time, Michael. The heat's on all over and if I try to interfere-"

When Michael Moretti spoke, there was an ominous note in his voice. "Listen to me, you a.s.shole, and listen good. If I spend one hour in jail, I'll see to it that you're behind bars for the rest of your life. I've been taking good care of you for a long time. You want me to tell the D.A. how many cases you fixed for me? Would you like me to give the IRS the number of your Swiss bank account? Would you-"

"For G.o.d's sake, Michael!"

"Then move!"

"I'll see what I can do," Judge Lawrence Waldman said. "I'll try to-"

"Try to, s.h.i.t! Do it! Do you hear me, Larry? Do it!" Michael slammed down the receiver.

His mind was working swiftly and coolly. He was not concerned about being taken to jail. He knew that Judge Waldman would do as he was told, and he could trust Nick Vito to attend to Fiore and Colella. Without their testimony, the government could not prove a thing against him.

Michael looked in the small mirror on the wall, combed back his hair, straightened his tie, and went out to meet the two FBI agents.

Judge Lawrence Waldman came through, as Michael had known he would. At the preliminary hearing, an attorney selected by Judge Waldman requested bail, and it was set at five hundred thousand dollars.

Di Silva stood there, angry and frustrated, as Michael Moretti walked out of the courtroom.

58.

Nick Vito was a man of limited intelligence. His value to the Organization lay in the fact that he followed orders without question and that he carried them out efficiently. Nick Vito had been up against guns and knives dozens of times, but he had never known fear. He knew it now. Something was happening that was beyond his understanding, and he had a feeling that somehow he was responsible for it.

All day he had been hearing about the raids that were taking place, the sweeping arrests that were being made. The street talk was that there was a traitor loose, someone high up in the Organization. Even with his limited intellect, Nick Vito was able to connect the fact that he had let Thomas Colfax live and that, shortly afterward, someone had started betraying the Family to the authorities. Nick Vito knew that it could not be Salvatore Fiore or Joseph Colella. The two men were like brothers to him and they were both as fanatically loyal to Michael Moretti as he was. But there was no way he could ever explain that to Michael, not without getting himself chopped into small pieces; because the only other one who could be responsible was Thomas Colfax, and Colfax was supposed to be dead.

Nick Vito was in a dilemma. He loved the Little Flower and the giant. Fiore and Colella had done him dozens of favors in the past, just as Thomas Colfax had; but he had helped Colfax out of a jam, and look what it had gotten him. So Nick Vito decided he was not going to be softhearted again. It was his own life he had to protect now. Once he killed Fiore and Colella, he would be in the clear. But because they were like brothers to him, he would see that they died quickly.

It was simple for Nick Vito to determine their whereabouts, for they always had to be available in case Michael needed them. Little Salvatore Fiore was visiting his mistress's apartment on 83rd Street near the Museum of Natural History. Nick knew that Salvatore always left there at five o'clock to go home to his wife. It was now three. Nick debated with himself. He could either hang around the front of the apartment building or go upstairs and take Salvatore inside the apartment. He decided he was too nervous to wait. The fact that he was nervous made Nick Vito more nervous. The whole thing was beginning to get to him. When this is over When this is over, he thought, I'm gonna ask Mike for a vacation. Maybe I'll take a couple of young girls and go down to the Bahamas. I'm gonna ask Mike for a vacation. Maybe I'll take a couple of young girls and go down to the Bahamas. Just thinking about that made him feel better. Just thinking about that made him feel better.

Nick Vito parked his car around the corner from the apartment house and walked up to the building. He let himself in the front door with a piece of celluloid, ignored the elevator and walked up the stairs to the third floor. He moved toward the door at the end of the corridor, and when he reached it he pounded on it.

"Open up! Police!"

He heard quick sounds from behind the door and a few moments later it opened on a heavy chain and he could see the face and part of the naked figure of Marina, Salvatore Fiore's mistress.

"Nick!" she said. "You crazy idiot. You scared the h.e.l.l out of me."

She took the chain off the door and opened it. "Sal, it's Nick!"

Little Salvatore Fiore walked in from the bedroom, naked. "Hey, Nicky boy! What the f.u.c.k you doin' here?"

"Sal, I got a message for you from Mike."

Nick Vito raised a .22 automatic with a silencer and squeezed the trigger. The firing pin slammed into the .22 caliber cartridge, sending the bullet out of the muzzle at a thousand feet a second. The first bullet shattered the bridge of Salvatore Fiore's nose. The second bullet put out his left eye. As Marina opened her mouth to scream, Nick Vito turned and put a bullet in her head. As she fell to the floor, he put one more bullet in her chest, to make certain. It's a waste of a beautiful piece of a.s.s It's a waste of a beautiful piece of a.s.s, Nick thought, but Mike wouldn't like it if I left any witnesses around. but Mike wouldn't like it if I left any witnesses around.

Big Joseph Colella owned a horse that was running in the eighth race at Belmont Park in Long Island. Belmont was a one-and-one-half-mile track, the perfect length for the filly that the giant was running. He had advised Nick to bet on it. In the past, Nick had won a lot on Colella's tips. Colella always put a little money on for Nick when his horses ran. As Nick Vito walked toward Colella's box, he thought regretfully about the fact that there would be no more tips. The eighth race had just started. Colella was standing up in his box, cheering his horse on. It was a large-purse race and the crowd was screaming and yelling as the horses rounded the first turn.

Nick Vito stepped into the box behind Colella and said, "How you doin', pal?"

"Hey, Nick! You got here just in time. Beauty Queen's gonna win this one. I put a little bet on it for you."

"That's great, Joe."

Nick Vito pressed the .22 caliber gun against Joseph Colella's spine and fired three times through his coat. The m.u.f.fled noise went unnoticed in the cheering crowd. Nick watched Joseph Colella slump to the ground. He debated for an instant whether to take the pari-mutuel tickets out of Colella's pocket, then decided against it. After all, the horse could lose.

Nick Vito turned and unhurriedly walked toward the exit, one anonymous figure among thousands.

Michael Moretti's private line rang.

"Mr. Moretti?"

"Who wants him?"

"This is Captain Tanner."

It took Michael a second to place the name. A police captain. Queens precinct. On the payroll.

"This is Moretti."

"I just received some information I think might interest you."

"Where are you calling from?"

"A public telephone booth."

"Go ahead."

"I found out where all the heat's coming from."

"You're too late. They've been taken care of already."

"They? Oh. I only heard about Thomas Colfax." Oh. I only heard about Thomas Colfax."

"You don't know what the h.e.l.l you're talking about. Colfax is dead."

It was Captain Tanner's turn to be confused. "What are you you talking about? Thomas Colfax is sitting at the Marine Base in Quantico right now, spilling his guts to everybody who'll listen." talking about? Thomas Colfax is sitting at the Marine Base in Quantico right now, spilling his guts to everybody who'll listen."

"You're out of your mind," Michael snapped. "I happen to know-" He stopped. What did did he know? He had told Nick Vito to kill Thomas Colfax, and Vito had said that he had. Michael sat there thinking. "How sure are you about this, Tanner?" he know? He had told Nick Vito to kill Thomas Colfax, and Vito had said that he had. Michael sat there thinking. "How sure are you about this, Tanner?"

"Mr. Moretti, would I be calling you if I wasn't sure?"

"I'll check it out. If you're right, I owe you one."

"Thank you, Mr. Moretti."