Omerta - Mario Puzo [37]
“You have the ability to fight back?” Marcantonio said.
“Oh, yes,” Astorre said, and he leaned back and smiled at his cousin. It was a deliberately sinister smile that a TV actor would give to show that he was evil, but it was done with such mocking high spirits that Marcantonio laughed.
He said, “That’s all I have to do? I won’t be involved further?”
“You’re not qualified to go further,” Astorre said.
“Can I think it over for a few days?”
“No,” Astorre said. “If you say no, it will be me against them.”
Marcantonio nodded. “I like you, Astorre, but I can’t do it. It’s just too much risk.”
The meeting with Kurt Cilke in Nicole’s office proved a surprise for Astorre. Cilke brought Bill Broxton and insisted that Nicole be present. He was also very direct.
“I have information that Timmona Portella is trying to establish a billion-dollar fund in your banks. Is that true?” Cilke asked.
“That’s private information,” Nicole said. “Why should we tell you?”
“I know he made the same offer he made your father,” Cilke said. “And your father refused.”
“Why should all this interest the FBI?” Nicole asked in her “go fuck yourself”voice.
Cilke refused to be irritated. “We think he is laundering drug money,” he said to Astorre. “We want you to cooperate with him so we can monitor his operation. We want you to appoint some of our federal accountants to positions in your bank.” He opened his briefcase. “I have some papers for you to sign, which will protect both of us.”
Nicole took the papers out of his hand and read the two pages very quickly.
“Don’t sign,” she warned Astorre. “The banks customers have a right to privacy. If they want to investigate Portella, they should get a warrant.”
Astorre took the papers and read them. He smiled at Cilke. “I trust you,” he said. He signed the papers and handed them to Cilke.
“What’s the quid pro quo?” Nicole asked. “What do we get for cooperating?”
“Performing your duty as good citizens,” Cilke said. “A letter of commendation from the president, and the stopping of an audit of all your banks that could cause you a lot of trouble if you’re not absolutely clean.”
“How about a little information on my uncle’s murder?” Astorre said.
“Sure,” Cilke said. “Shoot.”
“Why was there no police surveillance at the confirmation service?” Astorre asked.
“That was the decision of the chief of detectives, Paul Di Benedetto,” Cilke said. “And also his right hand. A woman named Aspinella Washington.”
“And how come there were no FBI observers?” Astorre asked.
“I’m afraid that was my decision,” Cilke said. “I didn’t feel there was any need.”
Astorre shook his head. “I don’t think I can go through with your proposition. I need a few weeks to think it over.”
“You’ve already signed the papers,” Cilke said. “This information is now classified. You can be prosecuted if you reveal this conversation.”
“Why would I do that?” Astorre asked. “I just don’t want to be in the banking business with the FBI or Portella.”
“Think it over,” Cilke said.
When the two FBI men left, Nicole turned on Astorre with fury. “How dare you veto my decision and sign those papers! That was just stupid.”
Astorre was glaring at her; it was the first time she had ever seen any trace of anger in him. “He feels secure with that piece of paper I signed,” Astorre said. “And that’s what I want him to feel.”
CHAPTER 5
MARRIANO RUBIO was a man with a finger in a dozen pies, all of which had fillings of pure gold. He held the post of consul general for Peru, though he spent much of his time in New York. He also was international representative of big-business interests for many South American countries and for Communist China. He was a close personal friend of Inzio Tulippa, the leader of the primary drug cartel in Colombia.
Rubio was as fortunate in his personal life as he was in business. A forty-five-year-old bachelor, he was a respectable womanizer. He kept only one mistress at a time, all suitable and generously supported when they were replaced by a younger beauty. He was handsome, an