The Vulture's Game Read Online Free PDF

nodded. “Now, just because you can’t be Don doesn’t mean you can’t be of value to this family. If Vincent asks for help, you give it and you give it your best. He loves you and he trusts you. Apart from the resentment you feel over losing out to him, I’m pretty sure you feel the same way about him. I’d like it to stay that way. Now and after I’m gone. You good with that?”
    Jimmy nodded again.
    “I’m going to let you in on a secret,” Carlo said, starting to make his way out of the room. “A Don, any Don, from me up to Luciano, Costello, even back to Giuliano, we’re each of us only as good as the people we surround ourselves with. That’s the key. Charlie Lucky had Meyer and Bugsy—one the brains, the other the muscle. That’s why he died in Naples and not in some hellhole prison somewhere in the Midwest. Me? I got you and I got Vincent. And I’m good with that. I got strong and smart, both of you watching my back. And all you really need is two. Any more than that and you’re pushing your luck.”
    Uncle Carlo walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. He stopped when he heard Jimmy toss the chess pieces angrily to the floor. Carlo took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and then walked with head bowed down the long, carpeted corridor.

UPPER WEST SIDE, AUGUST 16, 2002
    9:25 P.M.
    I had the car drop me off on Riverside Drive, just off the 79th Street exit. Lisa’s apartment was only a few blocks away and I needed the walk. I wasn’t officially a member of my uncle’s crew yet and not even certain I ever would be, so I didn’t require bodyguards or a car and driver to protect me and take me from place to place. And even if I had, I still hadn’t had the conversation with Lisa that I’d been putting off for months. I was in love with her, or at least I thought I was, and if she was going to be my wife, she would need to know the kind of life she was walking into. But that would only come into play if I
did
follow my uncle. The Scanlon job notwithstanding, I remained unsure.
    There are a number of aspects of my uncle’s world I find appealing. The power. The money. The respect that comes with being the head of a crime syndicate. I see the way people behave around my uncle, the way they speak to him, the way they try to read his moods, constantly aware of not doing anything that might displease him. Standing on the sidelines and watching that behavior from men and women of all walks—criminal, political, professional—made me realize that my uncle’s strength would remain so long as he maintained that element of fear. Once a crime boss loses that, he’s really down to nothing.
    So, if I found it alluring, I could easily understand why someone like Frank Scanlon would want to take a step over to the darker side. Right now, as it stood, he had the money and maybe some semblance of the power, but he lacked the ability to put fear into someone’s heart, to make them tremble at the mere mention of his name.
    On the other hand, there is a lot to be said, I suppose, for leading an honest—or at least licit—life. I think if I had said no to my uncle, turned my back on his world, he might not understand my reasons but would accept and respect the decision. But you know what I wonder? How many days and nights would I spend either staring out an office window or at my bedroom ceiling regretting all that I was missing?
    I knew I had time to make a decision. In the meantime, I would come through formy uncle on the Frank Scanlon situation.
    I’d done my homework: read his file, then went deeper. I made use of my uncle’s vast real estate and law enforcement contacts to tell me all about Scanlon’s affairs. He was like a vulture when it came to taking over a building or a new construction site. He had gone so far as to kill for what he so desperately needed, his coke habit and heavy drinking helping to fuel the coward’s courage it took to pick up a phone and order a building