“Whatever. We also explained to you that the reason the Mob’s usual methods weren’t working was that the Bazaar merchants had hired us to chase the Mob out. Remember?”
“Yea. That was really a surprise when you told us. You really had us goin’, know what I mean?”
“Now that brings us to the present. The money we’re collecting from the Bazaar merchants and passing on to Don Bruce, the money he thinks they’re paying the Mob for protection, is actually being paid to us to keep the Mob away from the Bazaar. Get it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Then, understanding the situation as you do, you can see why I don’t want a moll or anyone else from the Mob hanging around. If word gets back to Don Bruce that we’re flim-flamming him, it’ll reopen the whole kettle of worms. That’s why you’ve got to get rid of her.”
Guido nodded vigorously. “No,” he said.
“Then all you have to … what do you mean, ‘no’? Do I have to explain it all to you again?”
My bodyguard heaved a great sigh.
“I understand the situation, Boss. But I don’t think you do. Allow me to continue where you left off.”
“But I…”
“Now, whatever you are, Don Bruce considers you to be a minor chieftain in the Mob running a profitable operation. Right?”
“Well…”
“As such, you are entitled to a nice house, which you have, a couple of bodyguards, which you have, and a moll, which you don’t have. These things are necessary in Don Bruce’s eyes if the Mob is to maintain its public image of rewarding successful members . . . just as it finds it necessary to express its displeasure at members who fail. Follow me?”