Angle of Attack by Rex Burns Page B

takeover of somebody’s territory?” asked Wager.
    “No. From Dominick’s point of view, that’s the beauty of it. The move won’t cause any territorial disputes because so far nobody else has thought of it. And he’s not about to let the idea out until the last minute, when the whole operation is set up and can be activated without opening doors for someone else to move in. He promised our man that he’ll be—and these are Dominick’s words—‘in on the ground floor of a major new operation, a very big operation.’ It’s supposed to happen soon, but only Dominick knows when. Our man thinks Dominick’s waiting to make sure of some out-of-town negotiations before he says go. At any rate, Dominick passed the word that nobody in his organization is supposed to stir up anything without his personal approval.”
    “When did this word go out?”
    “Perhaps a month ago. So you see why I’m not inclined to lay your homicide at Dominick’s door.”
    “Unless it was an emergency. Unless Covino somehow found out something about Marco’s death.” But, Wager wondered, how in the hell would a straight kid like Frank Covino learn anything about the Scorvellis?
    Sonnenberg puffed out another stream of yellow-white smoke. “I suppose that is a possibility. I suppose you will have to consider that angle. But you can see what it will mean for us if we get our own man promoted to a lieutenant in Dominick’s organization. If we can penetrate that far, we stand a good chance of getting Dominick himself, a good chance of flushing a big wad of filth down the toilet. And by God, I’d like that!”
    Axton let out a long breath. “Jesus. It’s like a pile of toothpicks. We can’t wiggle one without shaking the whole mess.”
    “That’s exactly why I don’t want any wiggles at all. At the present time, anyway. And you realize that if you do find your killer, it won’t be Dominick himself. He doesn’t do his own work, even on his brother. Our only chance to nail someone as big as Dominick is through a conspiracy charge, and this is the best opportunity we have ever had.”
    “Jesus,” said Axton again. “That really puts Gabe and me between a rock and a hard place, Inspector. The Bulldog’s going to want to know why we’re not chasing down that Scorvelli rumor, and you don’t want us near the guy.”
    “I know Chief Doyle,” said Sonnenberg. “And of course there’s absolutely no question about his reliability. But, Wager, you know as well as I do that the greater the number of people who know something about an operation, the greater the chance is for a leak. It may be unintentional, but all it takes is a hint or a careless word; and the Scorvellis have ears everywhere—clerks, janitors, perhaps even some officers. The Scorvellis pay well for information, and this item would be worth a very great deal.”
    What Sonnenberg said was true, and Wager went along with it. From the last estimate he had seen, the Scorvelli organization had a payroll half the size of the police department’s. Tax free. They could—and did—buy people wherever they needed them. “I suppose we could keep searching for other leads for a while, and the chief wouldn’t get uptight about it. For a few days, anyway. But what you’re asking for is anything from a couple of weeks to a couple of months. I don’t see how we could stall for that long if Scorvelli’s name keeps popping up.”
    “I’ve tried to explain the necessity of it.”
    Wager said, “Let me ask you, Inspector: What’s the first thing that happens whenever there’s a gang killing?”
    Sonnenberg studied the ash of his cigar. “You mean it’s routine to pull in a Scorvelli for questioning?”
    “Yessir.” It was just as routine to let him go again, too, but Wager didn’t like to admit that. “And if Tony-O heard that rumor about the Covino kid and Marco, there’s a good chance Scorvelli picked up on it. After all, Covino ended up dead, didn’t