Angle of Attack by Rex Burns Page A

points, Wager knew. But just now they were groping, and that was on a rumor from an uncorroborated source. “We’re not sure,” he admitted.
    The inspector swiveled back quickly. “You mean you’re fishing?”
    “We have a tip, but … yessir, a lot of it’s fishing.”
    “I can’t allow you to blindly poke around, Wager. The subject is extremely sensitive, and I don’t want anyone making waves right now.”
    “A good informant told me that Marco Scorvelli’s hit and this latest homicide were linked.”
    “What informant?”
    “Tony-O. He told me Sunday afternoon that one Frank Covino knew something about Marco’s death, and on Sunday night Covino was killed.”
    “Lord, is that old man still around? He goes back as far as the Scorvellis. Further, even.”
    “Yessir.”
    “But he’s also been out of the action for a long time. His tip could be wrong; we never had a whisper to indicate who actually killed Marco.”
    “Yessir, he could be wrong. But Tony-O knows the street, and you have to admit it’s a weird coincidence. So there’s a chance that he could be right, too.”
    “Wager, if you had some specific questions, I could answer them. But as it is …” Sonnenberg shook his head.
    “It’s the only lead we have on a class A felony, sir. Homicide.” Wager did not spell out the threat the way he’d had to for Ed.
    The inspector played with the cigar again. Wager heard Axton beside him shift his weight in the groaning captain’s chair. Ed, restless as ever, slowly rocked from one thin ham to the other.
    “All right. I’ll let you have as much as I feel you need to know, Wager. But for God’s sake keep the lid on it.”
    That wasn’t necessary, Wager kept his mouth clamped and gazed back into Sonnenberg’s blue eyes.
    “We have a contact inside the Scorvelli organization. You know what it would mean for him if anything I tell you gets out.”
    “I know.”
    “Well, you remember it. And remember this, too: the only reason I’m telling you is that you’ve worked with us before and I trust you.” The chill blue eyes shifted to Axton. “And if Wager’s told, his partner has to be let in. But nobody else. Absolutely.”
    “Yes, sir,” said Axton.
    “All right.” Sonnenberg drew another mouthful of smoke and then lowered his voice and leaned across the desk toward them. “The contact is an agent—not local, but you don’t have to know anything more than that. He tells us that Dominick had his brother Marco killed because he—Marco—objected to the direction in which Dominick wanted to take the organization. It involved a possible loss of local autonomy, but you don’t need to know about that, either. Who the hit man was, we have no idea. A local soldier, somebody from out of town—we just don’t know. Apparently Dominick made the arrangements very surreptitiously in order not to create any divisions in the organization after his brother’s death. But the fact, if not the details, leaked out, and Dominick had to convince a lot of people that the move was the right one. In the last few months, it’s become clear that he’s consolidated his position and now feels that he can develop whatever it was that Marco objected to. Apparently, Dominick’s organization is looking for new capital to finance a major expansion, but in what direction, our man hasn’t found out yet. As usual, Dominick’s very close-mouthed about his plans. But here’s why things are so very sensitive just at this time: our agent has a chance to be promoted when the expansion does occur. The organization trusts him that much. Dominick told him that the expansion’s going to be in an entirely new direction, one that will require new personnel, and that he has our agent in mind for a very responsible position in the new division.”
    “That’s really something!” said Axton.
    Sonnenberg said with emphasis, “It is. And we don’t want anything to shake him out of that position. Anything!”
    “It’s not a