was now calling himself Robert Simons; Tony Logeto, who had become Thomas Lanier; Anthony
Bronicata, now known as Alfred Burns; and Johnny Draganata, the old fox, whose nom de plume was
James Dempsey. The subject in the last picture was less familiar to me, although I knew who he was:
Johnny “Jigs” O?Brian, a nickel-dime hoodlum who had been doing odd jobs for the mob in Phoenix
until he married Tagliani?s youngest daughter, Dana. At the time the Triad had done its disappearing
act, O?Brian was doing on—the—job training running prostitution.
Cute, hut not a11 that original. „The new names helped explain initials on suitcases, gold cuff links,
silk shirts, sterling silverware, that kind of thing. The Tagliani bunch was big on monograms.
[hen there were the two missing faces, „Tuna Chevos and his chief executioner and sycophant, Turk
Nance. In the whole mob, Chevos and his henchman, Nance, were the most deadly. The setup here
seemed too perfect for them to be very far away. Besides, Chevos was a dope runner and the coastline
of Georgia from South Carolina to Florida was the Marseilles of America. Dope flowed through there
as easily as ice water flowed through Chevos? veins.
“Recognize these people?” Dutch asked, pointing to the rogues? gallery.
I nodded. “All of „em. Cutthroats to the man.”
“Okay,” he said, let?s get on with it”
I decided to play it humble and sat down on the corner of the desk.
“1 don?t want to sound like I know it all,” I said, “but I?ve been hound-dogging these bastards for
years. I know a lot about this mob because I?ve been trying to break up their party ever since I got out
of short pants.”
Not a grin. A tough audience. Salvatore was cleaning his fingernails with a knife that made a machete
look like a safety pin. Charlie One Ear was doing a crossword puzzle.
“Just what is the Freeze?” Charlie One Ear asked without looking up from his puzzle.
They were going to make it tough.
“Well, I?ll tell you what it?s not. It?s not the Feebies or the Leper Colony,” I said. “We have two jobs.
We work with locals on anything where there?s a hint of an interstate violation. And we go after the
LCN. We?re not in a league with the Leper Colony. We don?t kiss ass in Washington by victimizing
some little taxpayer who can?t protect himself, and we don?t hold press conferences every five
minutes like the Feebies.”
“What?s the LCN?” Zapata asked.
“La Cosa Nostra, you fuckin? moron,? Salvatore taunted.
Zapata looked back over his shoulder t Salvatore. “Big deal. So I never heard it called LCN before.
My old man didn?t suck ass for some broken-down old Mafioso.”
