Nick Vito parked his car around the corner from the apartment house and walked up to the building. He let himself in the front door with a piece of celluloid, ignored the elevator and walked up the stairs to the third floor. He moved toward the door at the end of the corridor, and when he reached it he pounded on it.
“Open up! Police!”
He heard quick sounds from behind the door and a few moments later it opened on a heavy chain and he could see the face and part of the naked figure of Marina, Salvatore Fiore’s mistress.
“Nick!” she said. “You crazy idiot. You scared the hell out of me.”
She took the chain off the door and opened it. “Sal, it’s Nick!”
Little Salvatore Fiore walked in from the bedroom, naked. “Hey, Nicky boy! What the fuck you doin’ here?”
“Sal, I got a message for you from Mike.”
Nick Vito raised a .22 automatic with a silencer and squeezed the trigger. The firing pin slammed into the .22 caliber cartridge, sending the bullet out of the muzzle at a thousand feet a second. The first bullet shattered the bridge of Salvatore Fiore’s nose. The second bullet put out his left eye. As Marina opened her mouth to scream, Nick Vito turned and put a bullet in her head. As she fell to the floor, he put one more bullet in her chest, to make certain. It’s a waste of a beautiful piece of ass, Nick thought, but Mike wouldn’t like it if I left any witnesses around.
Big Joseph Colella owned a horse that was running in the eighth race at Belmont Park in Long Island. Belmont was a one-and-one-half-mile track, the perfect length for the filly that the giant was running. He had advised Nick to bet on it. In the past, Nick had won a lot on Colella’s tips. Colella always put a little money on for Nick when his horses ran. As Nick Vito walked toward Colella’s box, he thought regretfully about the fact that there would be no more tips. The eighth race had just started. Colella was standing up in his box, cheering his horse on. It was a large-purse race and the crowd was screaming and yelling as the horses rounded the first turn.
Nick Vito stepped into the box behind Colella and said, “How you doin’, pal?”
“Hey, Nick! You got here just in time. Beauty Queen’s gonna win this one. I put a little bet on it for you.”
“That’s great, Joe.”
Nick Vito pressed the .22 caliber gun against Joseph Colella’s spine and fired three times through his coat. The muffled noise went unnoticed in the cheering crowd. Nick watched Joseph Colella slump to the ground. He debated for an instant whether to take the pari-mutuel tickets out of Colella’s pocket, then decided against it. After all, the horse could lose.
Nick Vito turned and unhurriedly walked toward the exit, one anonymous figure among thousands.
Michael Moretti’s private line rang.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Who wants him?”
“This is Captain Tanner.”
It took Michael a second to place the name. A police captain. Queens precinct. On the payroll.
“This is Moretti.”
“I just received some information I think might interest you.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“A public telephone booth.”
“Go ahead.”
“I found out where all the heat’s coming from.”
“You’re too late. They’ve been taken care of already.”
“They? Oh. I only heard about Thomas Colfax.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Colfax is dead.”
It was Captain Tanner’s turn to be confused. “What are you talking about? Thomas Colfax is sitting at the Marine Base in Quantico right now, spilling his guts to everybody who’ll listen.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Michael snapped. “I happen to know—” He stopped. What did he know? He had told Nick Vito to kill Thomas Colfax, and Vito had said that he had. Michael sat there thinking. “How sure are you about this, Tanner?”
“Mr. Moretti, would I be calling you if I wasn’t sure?”
“I’ll check it out. If you’re right, I owe you one.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
Captain Tanner replaced the receiver, pleased with himself. In the past he had found Michael Moretti to be a very appreciative man. This could be the big one, the one that could enable him to retire. He stepped out of the telephone booth into the cold October air.