The Last Don - Mario Puzo [156]
“I’ll report it to the Don himself,” Cross said. “How about you? Do you want to take a vacation down in Brazil until we find out what it’s all about?”
Lia had eaten very little. He helped himself to the brandy and Havana cigars Cross put out.
“I’m not nervous, not yet,” Lia said. “I’d just like your permission to protect myself against this man.”
Cross was alarmed. “Lia, you can’t do that,” he said. “It’s very dangerous to kill a police officer in this country. This is not Sicily. So I have to tell you something you shouldn’t know. Jim Losey is on the Clericuzio pad. Big money. I think he’s just nosing around to claim a bonus for laying off you.”
“Good,” Vazzi said. “But it remains a fact. There must be an informer.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Cross said. “Don’t worry about Losey.”
Lia puffed on his cigar. “He’s a dangerous man. Be careful.”
“I will,” Cross said. “But no preemptive strikes on your part, OK?”
“Of course,” Lia said. He seemed to relax. Then he said casually, “What’s under that quilt?”
“A little gift to a very important man,” Cross said. “Do you want to spend the night in the Hotel?”
“No,” Lia said. “I’ll go back to the Lodge and you can tell me what you learn at your leisure. But my advice would be to get rid of Losey right now.”
“I’ll talk to the Don,” Cross said.
Senator Warren Wavven and his entourage of three male aides were checked into their Xanadu Villa at three in the afternoon. As usual, he had traveled in an unmarked limo and without any sort of escort. At five, he summoned Cross to his Villa.
Cross had two of the security guards put the quilt-wrapped trunk in the back of a motorized golf cart. One of the guards drove and Cross sat in the passenger seat keeping an eye on the trunk, which rested in the cargo space that usually held golf clubs and ice water. It was only a five-minute run through the grounds of the Xanadu to the separately secured compound that held the seven Villas.
Cross always loved the sight of them, the sense of power. Small palaces of Versailles, each with a diamond-shaped emerald swimming pool, and in the center a square holding the pearl-shaped private casino for the Villa occupants.
Cross carried the trunk into the Villa himself. One of the senator’s aides led him into the dining room where the senator was enjoying a sumptuous array of cold food and iced jugs of lemonade. He no longer drank alcohol.
Senator Wavven was as handsome and affable as ever. He had risen high in the political councils of the nation, was the head of several important committees, and was a dark horse in the next presidential race. He sprang up to greet Cross.
Cross whipped the quilt off the trunk and put it on the floor.
“A little gift from the Hotel, Senator,” he said. “Have a pleasant stay.”
The senator clasped Cross’s hand with both of his. His hands were smooth. “What a delightful present,” he said. “Thank you, Cross. Now, could I have a few confidential words with you?”
“Of course,” Cross said and gave him the key to the trunk. Wavven slipped it into his trouser pocket. Then he turned to his aides and said, “Please put the trunk in my bedroom and one of you stay with it. Now, let me have a few moments alone with my friend Cross.”
They left and the senator began to pace the room. He frowned, “I have good news naturally, but I also have bad news.”
Cross nodded and said amiably, “That’s usually the case.” He thought that for the five mil the good news had to be a hell of a lot better than the bad.
Wavven chuckled. “Isn’t that the truth? The good news first. And very good news it is. I’ve devoted my attention in the last few years to passing legislation that would make gambling legal all over the United States. Even the provision to make sports gambling legal. I think I finally have the votes in the Senate and the House. The money in the trunk will swing some key votes. It is five, isn’t it?”
“It’s five,” Cross said. “And money well spent. Now, what’s the bad news?”
The senator shook his head