Bone in the Throat - Anthony Bourdain [8]
"I certainly hope not," interjected Sullivan.
"Sure, he's fucking us a little bit," continued Al. "He's fucking the wise guys. He's fucking his ex-wife and his girlfriend, and everybody else for all I know. Sounds like an amazingly lifelike re-creation of a frightened, desperate scumbag restaurateur to me. So the guy screws us for a little money. Good. He gets in a little deeper with the Wig. Maybe Sally gets mad and is kind enough to commit a few more felonies for us. Maybe on tape. I'm even wondering, maybe Harvey can get a knock-down loan from the Brooklyn people. They've been coming around, I understand. Acting real friendly, offering their services."
"They haul his garbage now, right?"
"Yeah. Maybe he borrows a little money from outside Sally's crew. That should send Sally right up the wall. I mean, they want to help, maybe we should let them help. You got anything against prosecuting people from Brooklyn?"
Sullivan smiled. "Okay, okay. . . We'll let this go one time with the money. But you're gonna have to get him on a tighter leash in the future. He can fuck everybody else for their money, but I don't want him playing around with ours. I've personnel and automobiles and technical assets diverted full-time on this. I've got two observation posts sucking up overtime and rent and resources, I've got the clock running on the Title Threes . . . Sooner or later, I'm gonna get a phone call asking me what the fuck I've got to show for it."
"Right this minute, we've got enough for bribery and extortion. We've got probable cause for some more Title Threes . . . We've got people on tape making usurious loans, arranging kickbacks. Things are progressing."
"I'm looking for more than that. . . Racketeering. That's what this office is interested in, goddammit. I want some of that good ol' 'continuing criminal enterprise' on tape. I want more than Sally Fucking Pitera . . . I want his whole crew. I want Charlie Wagons. I want Danny Testa and all their little helpers. The whole bunch. I don't want them for some diddly-shit loansharking. At the end of all this, I want to be able to seize assets and salt the ground so nothing grows there ever again."
"How about the Brooklyn thing?" asked Al. "They're offering."
"Sure, sure," said Sullivan. "The Brooklyn thing interests me. Sure. Why not? Tell your friend to borrow some money from them. A few thousand. He shouldn't go overboard. Let's see what happens."
"It'll make Sally angry," said Al. "And his people."
"Good, good," said Sullivan. "Tell him not to tell them right away. It'll give us something to tickle the wires with later. Maybe we'll get some interesting conversations for a change."
"We don't want to start a war," said Al.
"Who's talking about starting a war? Hopefully, by the time they find out, they'll be well on their way to a meeting with the grand jury."
"Harvey will have to testify," said Al.
"So, he testifies. We get him into the program and he can go off to East Buttfuck somewhere and write his memoirs."
Six
TOMMY SIPPED HIS COFFEE in the empty kitchen. The night porters, Big Mohammed and Little Mohammed, had finished their work; he could hear them arguing in Arabic in the changing room. Otherwise, the kitchen was quiet.
This was his favorite part of the day. The cutting boards were rubbed clean and white; the stainless steel work tables and reach-in refrigerators gleamed. There were no other cooks due in until two-thirty. A dishwasher would be in at noon to help him with the scut work and to catch up on the pots. Tommy would be undisturbed until then, free to cook at his own pace and in his own way. He went over the prep list taped to the reach-in door by the saut