Nevada Run

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Blade, Geronimo, and Helen stood quietly next to the huge windows overlooking the glittering city. Dusk enshrouded the landscape, and the nearly infinite variety of Vegas’s neon lights had flared to life. To the three Warriors from the Home, where kerosene lanterns were a luxury at night, the impression was dazzling.

Blade turned and faced the doorway to the moderately sized chamber as the door opened and the Dons filed inside. The five men were a curious mixture of statures and physiques.

A large, circular wooden table filled the center of the room. Six wooden chairs ringed the table at regular intervals. Seated in his wheelchair near the windows, his hands on the table, his back to the Warriors, was Don Pucci. The token from Johnny’s Palace was clenched in his left hand.

The five Dons halted when they saw the Warriors.

“What the hell is this?” demanded a portly, bald man in a white suit.

“Council meetings are to be conducted in private. No soldiers. No Consiglioris. No one else.”

“With your indulgence, Don Marchese,” Don Pucci said. “I have called this emergency meeting of the Council, and these people are present at my invitation. Their testimony is essential to the topic we will discuss.”

Another Don, a small man with brown hair and eyes, attired in an immaculate blue suit and shining, black patent leather shoes, spoke up.

“What is this topic, Don Pucci?”

“We are here, Don Lansky, to discuss the danger of Las Vegas being attacked by a Federation army,” Don Pucci replied.

The Dons exchanged startled glances.

“Vegas is going to be attacked?” Don Marchese queried in astonishment.

“Please,” Don Pucci said, gesturing at the chairs. “Have a seat. Everything will be explained.”

The Dons quickly sat down.

Don Pucci angled his wheelchair so he could see the Warriors and the table. “First, I must make the introductions.” He waved his right hand at the Warriors. “These three are Warriors from a compound called the Home located in Minnesota.”

With raking stares, the Dons scrutinized the newcomers.

Don Pucci went on. “Their leader is Blade, the big one. The Indian is Geronimo. The broad is Helen.”

“Why are they here?” asked a man in a green suit with a ragged scar on his left cheek.

“I’m getting to that, Don Siegel,” Don Pucci stated. He motioned for Blade to step over to the table.

Blade complied, the Commando slung over his shoulders, his hands on the hilts of his Bowies. “Hello, gentlemen,” he said.

Don Pucci pointed at the Dons, introducing them one by one, going from right to left. “This is Don Marchese, then Don Lansky.” He indicated a stocky man in brown with a bulbous nose and a sloping forehead. “Don Cuascut. Don Siegel.” Next he pointed at a lean man in a gray suit. “And, finally, Don Talone.”

“Wait a minute,” Don Talone said in a high-pitched voice. “Where is Don Giorgio? We can not hold a Council meeting without all of the Dons present. You know the rules.”

“Don Giorgio will arrive in a half hour,” Don Pucci explained, “I wanted to have thirty minutes to ourselves. You’ll understand why in a few moments.”

“This isn’t proper,” Don Talone said.

Don Pucci smiled benignly. “Don Talone, your friendship with Don Giorgio is well known and we can appreciate your loyalty. However, in this instance your loyalty is misplaced. Thanks to your friend, we are in jeopardy of having the Freedom Federation declare war on us.”

“What is the Freedom Federation?” Don Lansky asked.

Don Pucci nodded at Blade. “Would you do the honors?”

“The Freedom Federation is an alliance of seven factions,” Blade detailed. “Three of the factions, the Family, the Clan, and the Moles, are all located in what was once Minnesota. Our allies include the Flathead Indians in Montana and the Cavalry in the Dakota Territory. Our two largest members are the Civilized Zone and the Free State of California.”

“I’ve heard of the Federation,” Don Siegel mentioned. “Why would they want to give us any grief?”

Don Pucci frowned. “Because one of us is responsible for kidnapping a young woman from the Family,” he answered.

Blade studied the expressions on the Dons. They were each digesting the news with a calm, but somber, detachment. All except for Giorgio’s friend, Talone. He was biting his lower lip nervously.

“The Warriors and I spent the afternoon together,” Don Pucci went on.

“I am convinced their grievance is genuine. If we don’t show them respect and help them, they could take their case to the Federation leaders. Do we want to risk having a Federation army sent against us?”

“Hold the phone,” Don Marchese said. “We have high-ranking visitors from California and the Civilized Zone all the time. We pay them good money to insure they don’t meddle in our affairs—”

“But this time we have meddled in theirs,” Don Pucci said, interrupting.

Blade was hoping Don Marchese would continue. He wanted to learn about the high-ranking visitors from the Family’s allies.

“What exactly is their grievance?” Don Siegel inquired.

Don Pucci looked at Blade. “Tell them about the snatch.”

Blade spent five minutes describing the abduction of Mindy. None of the Dons spoke until he was finished.

“This is deplorable!” Don Lansky stated. “We have a standing rule not to involve outsiders in our affairs.”

“How do we know one of us is involved?” Don Talone questioned. “The evidence is not concrete. Someone could be setting us up.”

“Someone was setup, all right,” Don Pucci said. “This was found on the body of the stranger found at the kidnapping scene.” He tossed the token to Don Marchese.

Each of the Dons took a turn at examining the token.

Don Talone, the last to inspect it, laughed. “A token? This is your evidence? This doesn’t mean a thing. Anyone can obtain a token.”

“There is one more thing,” Don Pucci said coldly. “Something the Warriors didn’t even think of. Something I discovered when I was looking at the address book.”

“What address book?” Don Marchese queried.

“The address book they found on the body of the man with the token,” Don Pucci elaborated. He extended his right hand toward Blade. “May I?”

Blade reached into his right rear pocket and withdrew the small black address book. He gave it to the Don.

Don Pucci waved the book. “This is the incriminating evidence linking one of us to the kidnapping.”

“A lousy address book?” Don Talone remarked sarcastically.

Don Pucci’s features became rigid. “This lousy address book has the name and address of its owner written on the inside of the front cover.” He slid the address book to Don Marchese. “Enlighten all of us.”

Don Marchese picked up the book and opened it. He stared at the handwriting for several seconds, his lips twitching in budding anger.

“What does it say?” Don Siegel prompted.

“Property of…” Don Marchese said, reading the writing. “Alberto Manzo, 6415 Roseway Avenue.”

“Manzo!” Don Lansky exclaimed. “He was one of Giorgio’s button men.”

“This still doesn’t prove Don Giorgio was involved,” Don Talone said.

“It does for me,” Don Pucci stated.

“The evidence is incriminating,” Don Cuascut commented, “but not conclusive.”

“How much more do you need?” Don Pucci asked. He surveyed the men at the table. “Do you have any idea of the gravity of the situation? We risk antagonizing a strong alliance with a powerful military force. We risk the Federation marching on Vegas. Do you want that?”

Don Talone snickered. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Don Pucci rejoined. “Let me remind you of a few facts. We have several thousand soldiers, all told. We’re strong, but we don’t have a standing army, per se. We’ve survived for so long because of two conditions. First, we never meddle in the affairs of outsiders. Never. For over a century we have honored this rule. Second, we’ve paid off the necessary people to guarantee we’re left alone. But the officials in California and the Civilized Zone on our payroll will not look kindly on having a young woman from one of their allies kidnapped by one of us.”

“If she was,” Don Talone interjected.

“Don Giorgio’s animosity toward me is no secret,” Don Pucci said.

“Everyone here knows he wants to oust me. He couldn’t try a direct hit with his own button men, because he knows many of you are close friends of mine and he would face your combined wrath. Someone—and let’s, for the sake of argument, assume Giorgio is responsible—has hired independents to whack me. Four times, no less!”

“Four?” Don Lansky said.

“There was another attempt earlier,” Don Pucci disclosed. “The Warriors saved me.”

“I heard about it,” Don Marchese mentioned. “I am sorry.”

“The outside talent hasn’t been able to do the job,” Don Pucci said. “So now someone—and, again, who else but Giorgio would do it?—has attempted to instigate my death at the hands of the Warriors.”

“This is all speculation,” Don Talone declared. “You can’t prove Don Giorgio is involved.”

The door suddenly opened.

Blade looked up at the man striding into the meeting room. His mind registered the cruel visage, the oily black hair, the brown eyes, and the black suit, and he intuitively realized the new arrival was Don Giorgio.

“Don Giorgio,” Don Pucci said, confirming Blade’s deduction. “You are early.”

Don Giorgio scanned the room, his arrogant gaze lingering on the Warriors. “You’ve started the meeting without me?”

“You are the topic of our meeting,” Don Pucci stated. “I’d hoped to settle matters before you arrived.”

Don Giorgio stared at Don Pucci. “What kind of stunt are you trying to pull?”

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Don Pucci suggested. “We would like to discuss the matter of a kidnapping with you.”

“Is this a meeting of the Council or an interrogation?” Don Giorgio demanded testily.

“It is both,” Don Pucci answered.

“I am insulted by your lack of courtesy,” Don Giorgio said to Don Pucci.

“I came over to your joint in good faith, with only six of my men, as required by our agreement. And now you say you want to grill me over some kidnapping?”

“We do not intend to grill you,” Don Lansky said. “We merely want to ask a few questions.”

“Why should I agree to this breech of etiquette,” Don Giorgio snapped.

“If you have nothing to hide, I see no reason why you can’t cooperate,” Don Pucci stated.

Don Giorgio stared at each of the other Dons. “Are all of you in this together?”

“Don Pucci has made serious charges against you,” Don Lansky offered placatingly. “We simply want to set the record straight.”

“I refuse to be treated like one of the pezzonovante,” Don Giorgio said disdainfully.

Embroiled in their dispute, accustomed to conducting their business in private amongst themselves, with their attention fully focused on another, they collectively disregarded the presence of the three Warriors. The last thing they expected was to have their conference interrupted by an outsider. So they were all the more disconcerted when a disruption abruptly occurred.

Helen walked up to the table and leveled her carbine at Don Giorgio.

“Where’s my daughter, you bastard!”

Don Giorgio stiffened. “Who the hell are you?”

“The name is Helen,” she told him icily. “You kidnapped Mindy, my daughter. Where is she?”

“I did not kidnap your daughter, bitch!” Don Giorgio growled.

Helen shot him.

The single round caught Giorgio high on the right shoulder and spun him completely around. He doubled over, his left hand pressed against the wound, blood trickling over his fingers, his face contorted in savage rage.

Without exception, the other Dons were gawking at Giorgio, dumbfounded.

“Helen!” Blade said harshly, grabbing the Armalite barrel and pushing it upwards.

Just then the door opened and button men raced into the room, each with a handgun. Each of the Dons had arrived at the meeting with six soldiers, and now those trigger men flocked to their Dons while uneasily eying everyone else.

Don Pucci was the first to recover. “There will be no more shooting!” he commanded sternly.

Don Giorgio straightened and examined his wound.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said contemptuously. “The bitch can’t shoot straight.”

“If I’d wanted you dead,” Helen assured him, “you’d be dead!”

Blade was expecting one of the soldiers to open up at any second. They were on edge, primed to kill. All it would take to initiate a blood bath was one wrong word or hasty action.

“I did not know she would do this,” Don Pucci said to Giorgio.

“You allowed outsiders to attend a supreme Council meeting,” Don Giorgio declared with a sneer. “And you can’t even control them! Are you a Don or a windbag?”

“This regrettable incident was completely unforeseen,” Don Pucci reiterated. “You have my apology.”

“I don’t want your apology!” Giorgio retorted. “I want this woman! It is my right!”

“She is here as my guest,” Don Pucci said. “She is under my protection.”

“Are you refusing to allow my right for revenge?” Don Giorgio demanded. “I am not armed, and she put a slug through me! I have the right to snuff her!”

A deep voice stabbed the air like a knife, drawing the scrutiny of everyone in the room to the giant in the black leather vest and the fatigue pants. “Like hell you do!”

Don Giorgio, strangely enough, grinned. “The mighty Blade speaks!” he said mockingly.

“So you know who I am,” Blade remarked.

“I know all about you!” Don Giorgio boasted.

Blade leaned forward, resting his fists on the table. “Then you must know I’m a man of my word. And I’m giving you one hour to turn Mindy over to us, or we’re coming after her.”

“You’re threatening me?” Giorgio rejoined furiously.

“No,” Blade said softly. “I’m promising you. If Mindy isn’t freed within an hour, we’ll come get her.”

Giorgio gazed at each of the Warriors. “All three of you?”

“They won’t be alone,” Don Pucci stated.

“Are you declaring war on me?” Don Giorgio snapped.

“I would rather not,” Don Pucci said.

“I am not holding this Mindy,” Giorgio declared. “How can you side with these scum against me?”

“I believe you kidnapped the girl,” Don Pucci observed.

Giorgio’s lips curled downwards. “Are you calling me a liar?”

There were several seconds of strained silence as the mobsters apprehensively waited for Don Pucci to respond. The fate of the seven Families hung in the balance. If he answered in the affirmative, each Don and every trigger man knew war was inevitable. And a war between any two Families would adversely affect all of them.

Don Pucci straightened in his wheelchair. “Yes. You are a lying peasant.”

Don Giorgio took a menacing step forward. “Why, you worthless old shit! This is the final straw! I’ve tolerated your meddling long enough!”

Don Pucci’s eyes narrowed. “Leave now, while you still can. I invited you here under an implied pledge of neutrality, and I won’t violate the sanctity of the Council.”

“You pompous old fart!” Giorgio declared. “Do you really think your Family is stronger than mine? You’re in for a rude awakening.”

“You have ten minutes to vacate the premises,” Don Pucci said.

“What about the rest of you?” Don Giorgio asked, sweeping the other Dons with an expectant gaze. “Will you side with this fossil or me?”

None of the Dons responded.

“You’d better decide soon,” Giorgio informed them. “I’ll remember my friends when I’m on top, but I won’t be so forgiving toward those who oppose me.”

“We will not be intimidated,” Don Marchese stated.

“Suit yourselves,” Don Giorgio said. “I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.” He wheeled and stalked from the Council room, his soldiers on his heels.

“Now the shit hits the fan,” Don Lansky remarked.

Don Pucci looked at Helen. “That was a very foolish thing you did.

There was a remote chance I could have reasoned with Giorgio to return your daughter.”

“You shouldn’t have let him leave,” Helen said in reproach. “I could have made him tell me where Mindy is being held.”

Don Pucci faced his peers. “The harm has been done. There is no turning back. You must do as your conscience dictates. If you decide to remain neutral, I will understand.”

“This is not our fight,” Don Cuascut commented.

“In a sense, you’re right,” Don Pucci said. “Giorgio has been after me for years. This is a personal conflict as well as business. But keep one thing in mind. Giorgio is merciless. He wants absolute power. If he wins this war, what is to prevent him from trying to destroy your Families?” He paused. “Where do you stand?”

Don Causcut spoke first. “I want no part of it. My Family will be neutral.”

“As you wish,” Don Pucci said.

“Giorgio’s Family is strong,” Don Lansky noted. “I’d say the two of you are evenly matched. This war could drag out for months, even years. Our tourist trade would be crippled. Our economy would suffer. I do not like the idea of diminished coffers.”

“You are with me then?” Don Pucci inquired hopefully.

“Respectfully, no,” Don Lansky responded. “My Family will sit this out.

This is between Giorgio and yourself. You must show the upstart the error of his ways. I will, however, provide whatever hardware and ammunition you may need.”

“And you?” Don Pucci asked Don Marchese.

Marchese frowned. “I love you like a brother, Tony. You know that. And as a brother, I give you this advice. You must prove yourself by defeating Giorgio. He threw down the gauntlet and you accepted. Now you must prove yourself worthy of being the leader of our Council. So long as the war is strictly between Giorgio and yourself, I will not intervene one way or the other.”

Don Siegel cleared his throat. “If the others are content to allow Giorgio and you to settle this, then so am I.”

Don Pucci bowed his head. He did not want his friends to see his overwhelming disappointment.

“As for me,” Don Talone added, “I’m not sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. However, if Don Lansky is willing to supply arms to the Pucci Family, I can do no less for the Giorgio Family.”

Don Pucci looked up at Don Talone. “Thank you for being honest. All of you should leave before the hostilities commence.”

Without saying a word, the five Dons and their soldiers departed.

Don Pucci sighed and gazed at Blade. “The lines have been drawn, Warrior. For better or for worse, Don Giorgio and I will resolve our differences permanently.”

“You’re not alone in this,” Blade said. “We’re with you all the way.”

Don Pucci smiled. “I appreciate the thought, but what can three Warriors do?”

“You’ve never seen us in action,” Blade commented.

“Besides,” Geronimo chimed in, “we have an ace in the hole. Or maybe I should refer to him as a wild card.”

“Who is this wild card?” Pucci asked.

“Hickok.”