You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

Sixty

After I hung up on Entratter I called Otash’s office and left a message with Miss Deeds to have him come right over to the hospital.

While I waited for Otash to arrive-or maybe even Stanze-I looked at Jerry, lying helpless in that bed, and realized that I had always thought of him as indestructible. Seeing him unconscious and unable to defend himself was kind of scary. But it also showed that anybody can be taken down if you take them from behind.

Otash arrived and looked disturbed-rested, but disturbed.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “I haven’t had a chance to make my calls yet.”

“To check on the Lavender Club?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I was going to do.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Why not?”

“I got the information already.”

“From who?”

“Jack Entratter, my boss at the Sands.”

“I’ve heard of Entratter,” Otash said. “So what did he do, use the Sicilian pipeline?”

“Whatever he used, he got the info, and I don’t think you would have gotten it. I don’t even think the L.A. cops would’ve found it.”

“What is it, top secret?”

“You might say that.”

“Okay, don’t keep me in suspense. Who owns the damned club?”

“You’re gonna laugh,” I said. “The owner of record is something called the JEH Group, Inc.”

“JEH? What does that stand for?”

“This is the part you’re gonna find funny,” I said. “JEH stands for J. Edgar Hoover.”

“What? Are you telling me that club is owned by the FBI?”

“That’s what I’m tellin’ you.”

“Wait a minute-JEH? That’s just stupid.”

“All the more reason to believe it,” I said. “Somebody just couldn’t help but get cute about it.”

“Jesus …”

“And did you notice anythin’ odd when you came in?” I asked.

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “No cops.”

“Right,” I said. “They were pulled in the middle of the night.”

“You think the FBI had something to do with that, too?” he asked.

“I’d make book on it.”

“This makes sense out of the conversation you heard in the club,” he said.

“Yeah, but I don’t think Harris and the guy with the scar are FBI. I think they’re freelancers.”

“Being paid by the feebs.”

“Right.”

“You know, if the FBI pulled the cops they’re not coming back any time soon.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’ve made other arrangements.”

“Also through Entratter?”

“Yes,” I said. “Someone’s got to keep Jerry safe while we run down these two guys. One of the calls you were gonna make was to run that plate number.”

“Yes,” he said, “I’m having Leona do it now.”

“Good. If I’m right the car will be registered to the JEH Group. Maybe there’ll be an address.”

“Most likely a PO box.”

“If it is we’re screwed again.”

“No, we’re not. We’ll just stake out the place and wait for one of them to show up, and this time we’ll follow him.”

“What if they realize someone left the light on in the basement?”

“Maybe nobody’s been down there since, but it won’t matter. They’ll each blame somebody else.”

“So Fred, are you sure you’re willing to go against the FBI?”

“If you’re right and these are freelancers who jumped the gun,” he reasoned, “grabbed Danny and slugged Jerry, then we’re not going against the whole FBI, just these two guys. I mean, the only reason the FBI would employ freelancers is deniability.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” I said.

“When are your other arrangements supposed to arrive?” he asked.

“Any minute. They’ll watch Jerry in shifts until I tell them it’s over.”

“This,” he said, “ought to be interesting.”

He was right, it was.

Two guys arrived wearing suits and ties and iron under their arms. Young, dark-haired, pale and bored-looking, almost identical.

“You Gianelli?” one of them asked. “The one they call Eddie G?”

“That’s me,” I said, and even to myself I sounded like a bad Edward G. Robinson impersonator. “I’m Eddie Gianelli.”

“I’m Vince, this is Bobbo,” Vince said. “Mr. Roselli sent us.”

“Johnny Roselli?” Otash asked.

“You know another one?” Vince asked.

I’d met Roselli one time. He ran L.A. and Vegas for Sam Giancana and his group. Entratter had said he’d call Roselli and get me some help looking out for Jerry.

“Dis da guy?” the other man asked. “Jeez, he’s a big one. How’d they take him down?”

“From behind,” I said.

He looked at his partner and said, “Ain’t dat always da way?”

“Shut up, Bobbo,” Vince said. He looked at me. “We’ll be here for six hours and then we’ll be relieved. Mr. Roselli says you should go and do what you gotta do. Him and Mr. Entratter made all the arrangements, and Mr. Roselli made a promise.”

“The cops were supposed to be here watchin’ him,” I said.

“That figures,” Vince said.

“Well, they may be back.”

“That’s okay,” Vince said, “we get along good with cops. They understand cash.”

“Okay, Vince,” I said. “Just make sure nothin’ happens to him.”

“Hey,” Vince said, “Mr. Roselli makes a promise, we keep it. That’s our job, and we’re good at it.”

“Hey,” Bobbo said, “is it true you’re friends with Frank and Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“Jeez, dem guys is great.”

“I tell you what,” I said. “You do your job, and I’ll get you free tickets next time they’re in Vegas. And a comped room at the Sands.”

“Really?” Bobbo asked. “Jeez, thanks, Mr. Gianelli.”

“We’ll do our job either way,” Vince said.

“I’m countin’ on you guys.”

“No problem, Mr. G.,” Bobbo said. “It’s in da bag.”

As Otash and I left the hospital he said, “Never thought I’d be throwing in with Johnny Roselli.”

“Actually,” I said, “he’s kind of throwin’ in with us.”

“Even stranger,” he said, “only …”

“Only what?”

“How can you be sure you can trust these guys?” he asked. “I mean, how do we know they were really sent by Roselli?”

“They mentioned Jack Entratter,” I said. “Nobody knows that Jack was callin’ Johnny. My only worry is what happens if the cops come back.”

“You know, at one time the L.A. Police Department was the most corrupt in the country-even worse than Chicago. There’s no reason to believe some of that’s not still true.”

“You’re sayin’ they’re on Roselli’s pad?”

“Roselli’s, the FBI, they’re on somebody’s.”

“I kinda thought Stanze was different.”

“He may well be,” Otash said, “but he’s only one man, and he can’t buck the whole system.”