THE PLOT AGAINST SAVOLI
Two hours later, John Genara and Tony Anelmo were seated in the private room of Joe le Blanc’s road house. The two killers seemed to be awaiting the arrival of another man. It was not long before he appeared.
The newcomer was Nails Pietro, one of the toughest of Chicago’s lesser gang leaders.
The Homicide Twins rose to meet him. They were well away from the window, and they did not observe what happened there.
As on that day when Joe le Blanc had talked to Steve Cronin, a hand appeared at the window, but only for an instant. Something slipped behind the radiator. It was a tiny instrument, and it disappeared immediately.
The wire attached to it was inconspicuous in the shadows at the side of the room.
The three men took their places at the table. Anelmo rose to make an inspection tour. He made sure that the doors were locked. He closed the half-opened window, and the thin wire was pressed beneath the sash. Then he returned to the table.
The three men began to talk in Italian. They were sure that they were not being heard.
Anelmo had not noticed the wire at the window, where the dictograph was picking up all that was said.
Nor had he tapped the paneling on the wall behind the table. Had he done so, he would have made a discovery.
For after the entrance of Nails Pietro, Joe le Blanc had disappeared from the large dining room of the Gray Mill. The proprietor of the road house had entered a closet that led to a spot behind the panel. He was listening there.
Le Blanc did not speak Italian fluently, hence the first few minutes of the conference did not give him a clew to the intentions of the speakers. He simply knew that Genara and Anelmo were trying to convince Pietro that some scheme was good.
The subject under discussion was the fate of the Unione Italiane, a powerful organization that existed in Chicago. The makers of illicit whisky, known as “alky cookers,” were controlled by the Unione, which had no present leader. The most recent incumbent of the presidential chair, Rocco Ricardo, had been put on the spot a few months before.
“You will control the Unione!” exclaimed Anelmo, to Pietro.
Genara placed his fingers to his lips.
“Not so loud,” he said. “Some one may hear.”
Nails Pietro shifted in his chair. He was a shrewd, fat-faced Italian, who bore a worried look.
“That is good,” said Pietro. “But there are two men who are in my way. Pete Varona and Al Vacchi. What of them?”
Genara snapped his fingers derisively.
“Who are they?” he questioned. “You have your men. Vacchi and Varona meet tonight.
“Remember how Ricardo went out? While friends were calling to see him? How about Vacchi and Varona? Are you not a friend of theirs? It will be easy for you, tonight.”
“That part is all right,” replied Nails Pietro uneasily, “but that doesn’t include Nick Savoli. What about him? Where will I be?”
THE mention of Nick Savoli’s name caused Joe le Blanc to listen more intently. So far, he had been unable to follow the thread of the talk. Now the words that followed were direct, and he began to understand.
“Savoli?” questioned Anelmo. “Leave that to us. Genara and I will see him tonight. That will be the end of Nick Savoli. There will be two big shots after this. Genara will be one. Anelmo will be the other.”
Genara nodded emphatically.
“But Borrango?” questioned Pietro.
“Who is Borrango?” asked Anelmo. “He does what he is told to do — by Savoli. Where will he be without Savoli? He will work for the next big shot, that is all.
“Mike Borrango is wise. He will take orders from us.”
Nails Pietro studied the other men craftily. He knew that they meant what they said. He did not know why the Homicide Twins were planning treachery against their chief, but he saw that their plan had tremendous possibilities. Still, he hesitated.
“What about Larrigan?” Pietro questioned.
Anelmo looked at Genara. The latter nodded. Anelmo bent close to Pietro’s ear, and whispered words that were inaudible to Le Blanc.
“Larrigan will always make trouble,” he said, in a confidential voice. “It is because of Larrigan that Savoli must die. When we are the big shots, Larrigan will be out.”
Before Anelmo could continue, Nails Pietro nodded. Anelmo caught a sign from Genara and said nothing more. He had been on the point of telling Pietro about the Schultz and Spirak affair.
“Larrigan is no good,” declared Pietro, loud enough for Joe le Blanc to catch the words. “You are right. It will be trouble for me if Larrigan becomes strong, as Savoli will make him. There has been trouble already. Italians and Irishmen do not work together. Why not put Larrigan on the spot?”
“Larrigan on the spot?” Anelmo questioned indignantly. “What about his mob? Savoli wants them. They would go after you — after us — after whoever bumped off Larrigan, and Savoli would let them go. There is only one thing to do!”
“Put Savoli on the spot,” declared Genara grimly.
He extended his hand across the table. Anelmo shook it. Then they both shook hands with Nails Pietro.
“We have work to do tonight,” declared Anelmo. “None of us must fail. We will finish Nick Savoli. Rely on us. As for you, Pietro — “
“I understand,” replied the gang leader firmly.
The emphasis of his words convinced the Sicilians. They knew that Nails Pietro would not fail in his part of the bargain. He had much to gain by the elimination of Pete Varona and Al Vacchi.
The disputed leadership of the Unione Italiane would be ended. It was an office granted on the theory that might made right. Each candidate killed his opponents. Those who held office lived in fear of death; yet each new man felt sure that he could beat the game.
“I must get them, or — ” Nails Pietro nodded without completing the sentence.
Genara and Anelmo knew his thoughts. He was looking at the matter from the viewpoints of Mike Varona and Al Vacchi. Those men would soon tire of waiting for a settlement of the office. Together they would first kill Pietro; then battle between themselves, unless Savoli intervened.
NAILS PIETRO was considering something else. In Chicago, those who plotted against the big shot assumed a tremendous risk.
Anelmo and Genara had revealed themselves to Pietro. If he did not agree to go with them, they would have but one course: to kill him, before he would have a chance to tell what he knew. The presidency of the Unione Italiane was more attractive to Nails Pietro than death.
The gang leader looked at his companions. He displayed an evil grin. He stood up, and once more shook hands with the Sicilians.
“Tonight!” he said. “Tonight. I am leaving now. Remember — “
“Leave Savoli to us,” declared Anelmo.
The three men left the room. A few minutes later they were gone from the Gray Mill — Pietro in his car, with a bodyguard; Anelmo and Genara in a taxicab.
Joe le Blanc entered the vacant room. He stood as though in a daze, trying to piece together the words that he had heard.
“The Homicide Twins are going to put Savoli on the spot!” he muttered. “Tonight, eh? We’ll see about that!”
He laughed nervously as he left the room. Joe le Blanc realized that he had found an opportunity. Through Steve Cronin, he could reach the big shot.
He hurried to a telephone, and called Frank Marmosa’s restaurant. When Steve Cronin was summoned to the phone, Le Blanc lost no time in pouring out his story.
Meanwhile a hand came through the window of the empty room where the conference had been held. The instrument was removed from behind the radiator. A soft, whispered laugh followed. Then the man outside was gone.
A few minutes later a taxicab rolled away from Joe le Blanc’s road house.
WHEN Anelmo and Genara arrived at the Escadrille Apartments, they had cooked up an excuse for their visit.
Like Monk Thurman, they had a grudge against The Shadow. They knew that Nick Savoli would be interested in any new report on that sinister personage. So they were ready with their story of a chance encounter on the highway, with the imaginary flight and escape of The Shadow.
Genara and Anelmo used taxicabs on many of their ventures. It would have been easy for a man in a powerful car to get away from them.
The Homicide Twins were ushered into Savoli’s apartment. They did not sit down when they reached the library; instead, they remained standing, awaiting the arrival of Savoli and Borrango.
The big shot and his enforcer came in, Borrango walking in front. The killers had expected this. Their plan was laid out.
“Well?” questioned Savoli, as he sat in his big chair.
Borrango also looked intently at the visitors as he leaned against the bookcase.
“We have seen The Shadow once more,” said Anelmo, stepping forward toward Savoli. Genara, moving slightly, edged in Borrango’s direction.
Nick Savoli rested his chin on his left hand, and slipped his right hand into the pocket of his smoking jacket. It was a characteristic pose of the big shot; it meant that he was keenly interested.
“He came by us, in another car,” said Anelmo. He made a gesture with his left hand, as though to describe the scene. “Before we could stop, he — “
With a rapid movement, Tony Anelmo whipped out an automatic with his right hand. The action required but a fraction of a second. Yet it was the last deed that the Sicilian ever performed.
Neither he nor his companion, Genara, were quick on the draw. They were sinister killers who came upon men in the dark. They lacked the speed of other notorious gunmen. Anelmo did not live long to regret his laxity in this phase of gunmanship.
Before he could cover Nick Savoli, the big shot fired, using an automatic that was hidden in the large pocket of his jacket. The bullets found their mark. Tony Anelmo sprawled upon the floor without a word.
John Genara had acted with his comrade. He was facing Mike Borrango. It was his job to cover the enforcer; then swing on Savoli, the instant that he was sure Mike Borrango was incapable of action.
The Homicide Twins wanted Borrango as their man; but Genara was ready to kill the enforcer if he appeared dangerous. He had expected Mike Borrango to throw up his hands, which were hanging idly at his sides.
But Genara never learned exactly how Mike Borrango responded. For other shots were fired, a split second after those discharged by Nick Savoli.
The volley came from an opening in the bookcase; the shots, fired from close range, found their target in Genara’s head. He joined his companion, Anelmo, on the floor.
NICK SAVOLI did not arise as Steve Cronin emerged from the hiding place where Borrango had put him before the arrival of the Homicide Twins. The big shot gazed thoughtfully at the bodies.
He regretted the loss of Anelmo and Genara, not because of friendship, but because they had been capable killers. The first law of the underworld was death to traitors. The Homicide Twins had attempted a double cross. They had received their just reward.
“We could use Monk Thurman, now,” observed Borrango philosophically.
“Too late,” replied Savoli.
“Yes,” said Borrango. “It is after twelve o’clock. Larrigan is already — ” He paused, because of the presence of Steve Cronin.
“Joe le Blanc was right,” observed Cronin.
“Yes,” said Borrango. “But where’s the other guy — Nails Pietro? They were talking to him, weren’t they?”
“Forget Pietro!” said Savoli briskly. “He was probably going to help them in a getaway. Let’s get rid of ‘em.”
Another episode had been added to the annals of gangland’s killings. Two more gentlemen of the rod had gone their way. To Nick Savoli and Mike Borrango, it was just one more instance of a futile attempt to double-cross the big shot.