Knock Knock Whos There Read online

  “That’s a nice way to talk.” She hauled up the blanket and sheet

  and covered herself. “Can’t you act like a human?”

  Massino left the bedroom, slamming the door after him. He

  hesitated for a moment, then going into his study he called Andy

  Lucas. He waited a long minute before Andy’s voice came on the line.

  “The money’s been snatched.” Massino told him. “Get over there

  . . . get the boys,” and he hung up.

  55

  Going down to the garage, he got into the Rolls and began the

  three mile haul across the City to his down town office.

  As he pulled up outside the office block, he saw a prowl car and

  Toni’s Lincoln parked by the kerb. Well, at least he was getting some

  action, he thought as he rode up to the sixth floor in the elevator.

  There were two cops standing around looking vague. They stiffened

  to attention when they saw Massino. Both cops worked in Massino’s

  district and were well looked after. They saluted as Massino stormed

  into Andy’s office.

  Benno was sitting on a chair, blood on his face, his eyes glazed.

  Toni stood by the window. Ernie stood by the open safe.

  “What happened?” Massino demanded, coming to rest before

  Benno who made an effort to stand up but promptly sat down again.

  “There was a fire, boss,” he mumbled and his hand went to his

  head. “I opened up and there was a newspaper burning. While I was

  putting it out, I got clubbed.”

  “Who did it?” Massino barked.

  “I dunno . . . didn’t see no one . . . just got clubbed.”

  Massino went to the safe, looked inside, looked at the lock, then

  went to the telephone. He dialled a number while Ernie, Toni, Benno

  and the two cops watched him.

  “I want Cullen,” he said when a woman’s sleepy voice answered.

  “This is Massino.”

  “Oh, Mr. Massino!” The woman’s voice came fully awake. “Jack is

  out of town. He’s attending a conference in New York.”

  Massino cursed and slammed down the receiver. He took out an

  address book from his wallet, checked a number and dialled.

  Assistant Police Commissioner Fred Zatski answered. He sounded

  outraged to be woken at this hour. “Who the hell is this?”

  “Massino. Listen, I want this goddamn town sewn up fast: road

  blocks, the railroad station, the bus station and the airport. I’ve had a

  $186,000 steal and the bastard will try to get out of town. Get

  moving! Hear me! Seal the whole goddamn town!”

  “Just who do you imagine you’re talking to?” Zatski bellowed.

  “Alert headquarters! Don’t bother me! And listen, Massino, you may

  imagine you’re someone in this town, but to me, you’re just a

  bladder of wind,” and he hung up.

  Massino’s face turned purple with rage. He yelled at the two

  cops, “Get moving, you hunkheads! Get someone who can do

  something here . . . hear me!”

  As O’Brien, the older of the two, jumped to the telephone, Andy

  Lucas came in. He had obviously come in a hurry. He was wearing a

  jacket and trousers over his pyjamas.

  He looked into the safe, then at the lock, then met Massino’s

  enraged eyes.

  “It’s an inside job,” he said. “He’ll try to run. He had a key.”

  “You telling me?” Massino snarled. “Think I’m blind! Cullen’s out

  of town and this bastard Zatski won’t play!”

  O’Brien said, “Excuse me, Mr. Massino, Lieutenant Mulligan with

  the squad is on his way.”

  Massino looked around the room like an enraged bull hunting a

  target.

  “Where’s Johnny? I want my best man around me!”

  “He didn’t answer when I called him,” Andy said. “He’s not at

  home.”

  “I want him here!” Massino pointed at Toni. “Don’t stand around

  like a goddamn dummy . . . get Johnny!”

  As Toni left the office, Andy said quietly, “We’d better talk, Mr.

  Joe.”

  Massino snorted. He nodded at Ernie.

  “Get Benno to hospital,” and leaving the office he crossed the

  passage, unlocked his office door and went in, followed by Andy.

  He sat down at his desk and stared at Andy who sat on the

  corner of the desk.

  “We’re in trouble,” Andy said. “At midday we have to pay out or

  there’ll be a riot. We’ve got to borrow the money, Mr. Joe, or we’re

  sunk. If the newspapers get hold of this the numbers will come under

  57

  the limelight and Cullen will also be in trouble.”

  “So?”

  “Tanza is our only chance. It’ll cost, but we’ve got to go to him.”

  Massino clenched his big fists but he knew Andy was talking

  sense. The wail of a police siren sounded.

  “You handle Mulligan,” he said. “Get the town sealed off. I’ll talk

  to Tanza.”

  “Whoever took the money is out of town by now,” Andy said,

  “but we’ll go through the motions.” He went out, closing the door.

  Massino pulled the telephone towards him, hesitated, then

  dialled a number. As he did so, he looked at his desk clock. The time

  now was 04.25.

  Carlo Tanza was the head man of the Mafia cell in town. He was

  just one of the many arms of the Mafia octopus: a man of power, to

  whom Massino paid a weekly cut on his Numbers racket, his loan

  shark service and his vice earnings.

  Tanza answered the telephone himself. He, like Massino, had

  come immediately awake, knowing no telephone bell would ring in

  his big, opulent house at this hour unless there was an emergency

  and Tanza’s needle-sharp brain was always geared to meet an

  emergency.

  He listened to what Massino had to say and produced a solution

  without hesitation.

  “Okay, Joe. Don’t worry about the money. By ten o’clock you’ll

  have it for the pay-out. We’ll keep the press out of this.” A pause.

  “It’ll cost you. Twenty-five per cent, but you’ve got to have it, so

  you’ve got to pay for it.”

  “Hey! Now wait!” Massino did sums in his head. This steal would

  cost him $46,000 out of his own pocket! “You can’t screw me that

  hard. I’ll pay fifteen.”

  “Twenty-five,” Tanza said. “The money in your office at ten. You

  couldn’t get it anywhere else. Now . . . who did it?”

  “All I know it was an inside job,” Massino said. “It’s just

  happened. I’ll find out who did it, you can bet your life on that! I’m

  having the town sealed off, but the chances are the bastard’s out by

  now.”

  “As soon as you know, tell me,” Tanza said. “I’ll turn the

  organization after him. Just let me know his name and we’ll find

  him.”

  “Yeah. It must be one of my punks. Well, thanks, Carlo. I knew I

  could rely on you.” A pause, “How about twenty per cent?”

  Tanza chuckled.

  “You’re a tryer, Joe. I have to work by rule. If it was me I’d let you

  have it for ten, but this will be New York money and it comes pricey,”

  and he hung up.

  Massino sat for a long moment, his face ugly with rage. Then,

 
shoving back his chair, he strode out into the passage and into

  Andy’s office.

  Lieutenant Mulligan, a fat, freckled-faced man was examining the

  safe. Two other plain clothes detectives were fingerprinting. Benno

  and Ernie had gone. Andy stood just inside the doorway, nibbling his

  thumb nail.

  “The road blocks are going up, Mr. Massino,” Mulligan said. “If

  he hasn’t got away by now, he won’t get away.”

  Knowing some thirty vital minutes had been wasted, Massino

  glared at the detective and then spat on the floor.

  Toni Capello had been told to find Johnny. As he got into his

  Lincoln, he decided that the most likely place where Johnny would be

  found was with his girl friend, Melanie.

  Toni envied Johnny. This lush, well built girl was his idea of a

  good lay. He thought it would be fun to batter on the door and get

  Johnny out of bed. Who knows? The girl might even come to the

  door herself.

  He knew her name and where she lived. Once, he had spotted

  Johnny and the girl leave a restaurant and because he had the hots

  for her and nothing better to do, he had followed them back to

  Melanie’s pad.

  59

  It took him only a few minutes to reach the street and he saw

  Johnny’s car parked outside the apartment block. He grinned as he

  pulled up behind the car.

  So Johnny was up there with his whore, Toni thought as he

  crossed the sidewalk. Man! Was he in for a shock!

  He rode up in the elevator. Reaching Melanie’s front door, he

  dug his fingers into the bell push and kept it there.

  There was a long delay, then the door jerked open. Melanie,

  holding a cotton wrap around her, stared at him, terror in her eyes.

  “What is it?” she demanded, her voice strident. What goes on?

  Toni wondered. This chick’s flipping her lid.

  “I want Johnny . . . get him out of bed! The boss wants him

  pronto.”

  “He’s not here!” Melanie began to shut the door, but Toni’s foot

  came forward, blocking it.

  “He is here, baby. Don’t fool around. His car’s outside. He’s

  wanted.” Then raising his voice, he yelled, “Hey, Johnny! The boss

  wants you!”

  “I tell you he’s not here!” Melanie cried. “Get out! He’s not

  here!”

  “Is that right?” Toni moved forward, pushing her back. “Then

  where is he?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “His car’s outside.”

  “I tell you I don’t know!” She waved imploring hands to the door.

  “Go away . . . get out!”

  Suspicion lit a spark in Toni’s mind. Why was she so frightened?

  Why was Johnny’s car outside if he wasn’t here?

  Shoving her aside, he went into the bedroom and turned on the

  light. He looked around, then saw Johnny’s tie on the floor.

  “He’s been here,” he said as Melanie, shaking, came to the

  bedroom door. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know anything! Get out!”

  Jesus! Toni thought, it couldn’t have been Johnny? Not Johnny!

  He caught hold of her wrist, swung her around and flung her down

  on the bed. He bent over her.

  “Talk, baby, or I’ll soften you. Where’s he gone?”

  Shuddering, Melanie tried to sit up. Toni placed his hand over her

  face and flung her back, then he repeated, “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” Melanie sobbed.

  He slapped her twice, jerking her head from side to side.

  “Where is he?” he yelled at her. “Come on, baby, spill it!”

  She lay stunned by the force of the slaps.

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled, trying to shield her face. “I don’t

  know anything!”

  Toni hesitated. He was almost sure she was lying, but to knock

  Johnny Bianda’s girl about could be asking for real trouble if he was

  making a mistake.

  If Johnny suddenly walked in and caught him with this chick,

  Johnny would kill him. Toni had no doubt about that.

  “Get your clothes on,” he said. “You and me are going for a ride.

  Come on!”

  “I won’t go with you! Get out!” Melanie screamed. Then sliding

  down the bed away from him, she was on her feet and out into the

  sitting-room before be could stop her.

  Cursing, Toni rushed after her, caught her at the front door and

  dragged her back into the bedroom. He pulled his gun and shoved

  the barrel into her chest.

  “Get dressed!” he snarled.

  She looked with horror at the gun, then he had no more trouble

  with her.

  Twenty minutes later, he led her into Massino’s office.

  “Something stinks here, boss,” he said as Massino glared first at

  him and then at Melanie. “Maybe you can talk to her.” He went on to

  tell Massino about Johnny’s car, about Melanie’s terror and no

  61

  Johnny.

  “What are you trying to tell me?” Massino snarled. “You telling

  me Johnny took the money?”

  “I’m telling you nothing. She’ll tell you.”

  Massino turned his bloodshot, enraged eyes on Melanie who

  shrivelled under his glare.

  “Where’s Johnny?”

  She began to sob helplessly.

  “I don’t know. He went out on a job . . . that’s what he called it.

  Don’t touch me! He told me I was to be his alibi. He lost his medal . .

  .”

  Massino drew a long slow breath.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Here, Toni, give her a chair.” Then he began

  to question Melanie who talked, terrified by the staring bloodshot

  eyes and the fat, stone-hard face.

  “Okay,” Massino said finally. “Take her home, Toni,” and getting

  up he went into Andy’s office where Lieutenant Mulligan was about

  to leave. Massino drew him aside. “I want you to pick up Johnny

  Bianda,” he said. “Turn every goddamn cop you’ve got on the job.

  Keep it quiet . . . understand?”

  Mulligan gaped at him.

  “Bianda? You think he’s behind this?”

  Massino grinned like a wolf.

  “I don’t know, but if you can’t find him in four or five hours, he

  could be. Drop everything . . . get after Bianda!”

  At 10.00, Carlo Tanza arrived in a Cadillac with three bodyguards.

  With a wide, oily smile he watched them dump two heavy suitcases

  on Massino’s desk.

  Tanza was a short, stocky Italian with a balding head, a big

  paunch, tiny, evil eyes and lips like red wine.

  He shook hands with Massino, waved his men out of the office,

  nodded to Andy who stayed to count the money, then sat down.

  “There’s the money, Joe,” he said. “You ask, you get. How’s that

  for service?”

  Massino nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  “The boss talked to me on the phone,” Tanza said.

  “He wasn’t pleased. If you want to hold on to your Numbers, Joe,

  you have got to wake up your ideas. This safe . . .”

  “I’m getting a new one.”

  “I guessed you would. Now, who took the money?”

  “Nothing certain yet,” Massino said, “but it points to Johnny

  Bianda. H
e’s gone missing.”

  “Bianda?” Tanza looked startled. “I got the idea he was your best

  man.”

  “Yeah.” Massino’s face turned red and his little eyes glittered,

  “but it points to him,” and he went on to tell Tanza about Melanie,

  the alibi and the fact Johnny’s car was still parked outside Melanie’s

  pad.

  “You’re sure the girl knows nothing?”

  “I’m sure. I scared the crap out of the bitch.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Massino closed his big hands into fists.

  “If he’s skipped town, I want the organization to go after him. If

  he’s still in town, I’ll find him.”

  “He can buy himself a lot of protection with all that dough,”

  Tanza said thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll tell the Big Man. So you want us to

  find him . . . right?”

  “If he’s not holed up here . . . yes.”

  “I don’t want to start something too soon, Joe. Once the

  organization gets moving its hard to stop and it costs. Suppose you

  make certain he isn’t in town, then give me the green light, huh?”

  “If he’s skipped, the longer you wait the further he’ll go.”

  63

  Tanza grinned evilly.

  “It don’t matter how far he goes . . . if he goes to China, we’ll find

  him. We’ve never failed yet. You make sure first he isn’t in town,

  then we’ll take over.”

  He got to his feet. “I’m only trying to save you money, Joe. We

  don’t work for nothing.”

  When Tanza had gone, Massino called Toni and Ernie into the

  office.

  “Go to Johnny’s place and search it.” he ordered. “I want every

  scrap of information, every scrap of paper you can find there. I want

  you to send out some of the boys to ask around. I want to know who

  his friends are.

  When they had left, Massino called Lieutenant Mulligan.

  “Anything new?” he asked when the Lieutenant came on the

  line.

  “It’s my bet he’s skipped town,” Mulligan said. “There’s no trace

  of him. I’ve dug up his record, his prison photo and his finger prints.

  Would they be of any use to you?”

  “Yeah. I want everything you’ve got on him.”

  “I’ll send a man over with the photostats right away, Mr.

  Massino.”

  “Would you know if he has any relatives?”

  “Doesn’t seem to from his record. His father died five years ago.”

  “Anything on him?”

  “An Italian: worked in a fruit cannery in Tampa. Johnny was born