Paradise Gold: The Mafia and Nazis battle for the biggest prize of World War II (Ben Peters Thriller series Book 2)

Paradise Gold: The Mafia and Nazis battle for the biggest prize of World War II (Ben Peters Thriller series Book 2) by Vic Robbie Page B

Book: Paradise Gold: The Mafia and Nazis battle for the biggest prize of World War II (Ben Peters Thriller series Book 2) by Vic Robbie Read Free Book Online
Authors: Vic Robbie
he was unarmed having been instructed by Rovicco on no account was he to be carrying anything that could be construed as a weapon; not even a cigarette lighter for Christsakes. He felt naked without his .38 Colt Police Special. It had gone everywhere with him for years even getting in the way several times when he was in a delicate position with a lady. Some women even liked a weapon on their body; others went ape. It takes all kinds, he supposed. He regarded the gun as one of his spoils of war. When he was first making his way in the business, there was a hotshot cop in Brooklyn hassling him, giving him a hard time. He had only meant to frighten him. Break into his house at night and stick a gun under his nose when he was in bed canoodling with his wife; show him how vulnerable he was and he could get to them anytime. Things kinda got out of hand. When he pulled off the sheets, she was naked and hot. The cop wouldn’t stay still so he shot him through the neck and the blood was pumping out everywhere and the wife was screaming and it just made him all the hornier. So he did what he had to do – he screwed her there and then with her husband lying alongside feeling the life flowing out of him. Later when he looked back, it was the perfect revenge. To finish it off, he took the officer’s gun hanging in its harness over a chair and shot the wife between the eyes before the cop lost consciousness. He didn’t feel great about shooting her, but she would have fingered him for killing the cop. He liked the feel of the Colt with its four-inch barrel; it was light and perfectly balanced and he decided to keep it as a souvenir. It also amused him that over the years every time the cops found one of his targets, they realised the victim had been shot by one of their own firearms.
    His nervousness increased the farther they went into the jail and he was conscious he was chattering away and calling every guard ‘Sir’ in a sarcastic tone and receiving reciprocal looks of disrespect. Gates were opened and locked behind them and the more doors they went through, the louder they slammed shut. And at any moment he expected to feel a hand on his shoulder.
    The three visitors underwent full body searches, especially on account of the guy they were visiting, and he realised why Rovicco had stressed they had to be clean. Then he remembered he’d heard about some guys smuggling drugs into inmates and he went cold at the thought of bending over and some horny-handed guard sticking his finger up his ass.
    ‘Jeez,’ he said louder than he’d thought and everyone looked at him in surprise.
    They reached a door leading out to what appeared to be an exercise yard and he looked at the pale complexion of the guard escorting them and wondered if he should be out there getting some leisure time. ‘Prisoner 24806 is up on the hill over there,’ the guard told them. ‘I’ll lead you to him. You mustn’t talk to anyone other than the prisoner you’ve come to see.’
    Prisoner 24806, or as he was better known outside these walls ‘Lucky’ Luciano, was expecting them and got to his feet as they approached. He threw out his arms and enveloped Rovicco in a welcoming embrace and kissed him on both cheeks.
    ‘Is this the one?’ he hissed in Rovicco’s ear.
    Rovicco nodded in Paradiso’s direction and stepped back so Luciano could shake Manny’s hand.
    Paradiso stepped forward. ‘Honoured to meet you,’ he said sticking out a hand. ‘I–’
    A glower from Luciano, who seemed to be dissecting him with his eyes, stopped him in his tracks. And in the background he saw both Rovicco and Manny shaking their heads.
    Unlike the other prisoners, who were dressed in uniforms, Luciano wore a white silk shirt and pressed slacks. Beside him, another prisoner was laying out a meal for him on a low table, a meal for one. He guessed Luciano was in his forties with wavy black hair and a face cratered with pockmarks like the moon. His nose was large and

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