as good as a camera.”
“Yes. He’ll be here sometime this evening to go over the photos with you. And Howard was on the phone earlier. They hope to get on the ground of the Platt estate tomorrow. They’ve laid the groundwork and should have something for us tomorrow night if all goes well.”
“Yes, sir. Uh . . . as far as this evening is concerned——”
“Yes?”
Giordano hesitated. “Well, I did make a dinner date with one of the tellers. I don’t have to show up if you think it’s more important to meet with Frank tonight, but I thought it might be worthwhile to develop that contact. She’s just a teller, of course, but she might know a lot about bank routine.”
“Yes, of course.” The colonel turned away for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “A dinner date,” he said suddenly. “You only went there to change a bill, didn’t you?”
“Yes, a twenty.”
“And it was crowded, and of course the girl must have been rushed.”
“Yes, sir, she was.”
“And you still managed to date her?”
“Well . . . ”
The colonel chuckled softly. “I see,” he said. “I gather you’ll be spending the night in New Jersey, then?”
Giordano fought against the rush of blood to his face. It was bad enough to be short and skinny and nearsighted. Why the hell did he have to blush? “She seems like a quiet sort of girl,” he said. “I don’t know, I mean, I——”
The colonel spun his chair back, wheeled himself over to his desk. “I think you’re quite right, Louis. You should develop this relationship. A dinner date, you won’t have very much time, will you? I could call Frank and suggest he make it tomorrow. No, that’s not good. Will those prints be dry by the time you’re ready to leave?”
“Easily.”
“Good. Bring them up before you go, and I’ll go over them with you so that I know what they are. Then Frank and I can work together on them. I think that should do well enough. You’ll have a look at his scale drawing tomorrow. Just give me a call when you know where you’ll be staying.”
“The Cavalier Motel on U.S. One.”
“Oh?” The colonel raised an eyebrow. “Did you take the room before you met the girl or after? You don’t have to answer that, Louis.”
Giordano blushed furiously. “I’ll check those prints,” he said, and fled from the room.
TEN
Manso started out at six thirty. He went to four restaurants on the list and had a drink at each of them. He drank Bloody Marys because he could drink them almost indefinitely without feeling the vodka they contained. He nursed each drink for about fifteen minutes, then left and drove the rented Plymouth to the next place on the list.
After four restaurants and four drinks he was hungry. The fourth restaurant was a steakhouse in Clifton named for the ex-prizefighter who functioned as its maitre d’hôtel. Photos of other fighters covered the wall behind the bar. There were elaborately framed oils of boxing matches in the dining room, and the menu featured such items as Jake LaMotta Open Tenderloin Sandwich and Fried Chicken à la Sugar Ray Robinson. There was also a Jersey Joe Walcott Special, which turned out to be a combination of lobster tail and sirloin.
The fighter didn’t own the restaurant. Like the three others on Manso’s list, it was one of Albert Platt’s places. He didn’t really expect Platt to show up, but it seemed worth a try. From what he had seen of Platt in Vegas, he had a taste for night life and enjoyed being seen. Most gangsters liked to show up at their own restaurants.
Manso knew a lot about gangsters. When they flew him back to the States, he had close to three grand in his pocket and he took the whole roll straight to Vegas. He won the first three nights straight and had the feeling that he had found the only sensible way in the world to make a living. The fourth night he stepped up to the crap table of the Sands with $8,500 on his hip. By midnight he had run it up to twenty
“Yes. He’ll be here sometime this evening to go over the photos with you. And Howard was on the phone earlier. They hope to get on the ground of the Platt estate tomorrow. They’ve laid the groundwork and should have something for us tomorrow night if all goes well.”
“Yes, sir. Uh . . . as far as this evening is concerned——”
“Yes?”
Giordano hesitated. “Well, I did make a dinner date with one of the tellers. I don’t have to show up if you think it’s more important to meet with Frank tonight, but I thought it might be worthwhile to develop that contact. She’s just a teller, of course, but she might know a lot about bank routine.”
“Yes, of course.” The colonel turned away for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “A dinner date,” he said suddenly. “You only went there to change a bill, didn’t you?”
“Yes, a twenty.”
“And it was crowded, and of course the girl must have been rushed.”
“Yes, sir, she was.”
“And you still managed to date her?”
“Well . . . ”
The colonel chuckled softly. “I see,” he said. “I gather you’ll be spending the night in New Jersey, then?”
Giordano fought against the rush of blood to his face. It was bad enough to be short and skinny and nearsighted. Why the hell did he have to blush? “She seems like a quiet sort of girl,” he said. “I don’t know, I mean, I——”
The colonel spun his chair back, wheeled himself over to his desk. “I think you’re quite right, Louis. You should develop this relationship. A dinner date, you won’t have very much time, will you? I could call Frank and suggest he make it tomorrow. No, that’s not good. Will those prints be dry by the time you’re ready to leave?”
“Easily.”
“Good. Bring them up before you go, and I’ll go over them with you so that I know what they are. Then Frank and I can work together on them. I think that should do well enough. You’ll have a look at his scale drawing tomorrow. Just give me a call when you know where you’ll be staying.”
“The Cavalier Motel on U.S. One.”
“Oh?” The colonel raised an eyebrow. “Did you take the room before you met the girl or after? You don’t have to answer that, Louis.”
Giordano blushed furiously. “I’ll check those prints,” he said, and fled from the room.
TEN
Manso started out at six thirty. He went to four restaurants on the list and had a drink at each of them. He drank Bloody Marys because he could drink them almost indefinitely without feeling the vodka they contained. He nursed each drink for about fifteen minutes, then left and drove the rented Plymouth to the next place on the list.
After four restaurants and four drinks he was hungry. The fourth restaurant was a steakhouse in Clifton named for the ex-prizefighter who functioned as its maitre d’hôtel. Photos of other fighters covered the wall behind the bar. There were elaborately framed oils of boxing matches in the dining room, and the menu featured such items as Jake LaMotta Open Tenderloin Sandwich and Fried Chicken à la Sugar Ray Robinson. There was also a Jersey Joe Walcott Special, which turned out to be a combination of lobster tail and sirloin.
The fighter didn’t own the restaurant. Like the three others on Manso’s list, it was one of Albert Platt’s places. He didn’t really expect Platt to show up, but it seemed worth a try. From what he had seen of Platt in Vegas, he had a taste for night life and enjoyed being seen. Most gangsters liked to show up at their own restaurants.
Manso knew a lot about gangsters. When they flew him back to the States, he had close to three grand in his pocket and he took the whole roll straight to Vegas. He won the first three nights straight and had the feeling that he had found the only sensible way in the world to make a living. The fourth night he stepped up to the crap table of the Sands with $8,500 on his hip. By midnight he had run it up to twenty
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