Carmine paused, his expression becoming suspicious. "Why you wanna do that?"
"Somebody should stay here to answer the phone," said Tony, who knew that Don Fiavorante was sure to call back about his nonnegotiable check.
"Good thinkin. You stay by the phone. We'll get you a doggy bag if you promise not to go on the fuggin' rug while we're out," Carmine said, laughing.
When Don Fiavorante did call minutes later, Tony Tollini was profuse in his apologies.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Fiavorante," he explained. "Don Carmine hasn't mastered the modern office system yet. I'll drive the check down tonight, okay?"
"You are a good boy, Tony. I trust you. Why don't you send it Federal Express?" Don Fiavorante's voice sank to an unctuous growl. "But if I don't have my rent money by ten-thirty sharp tomorrow morning, it will not be a good thing, capisce?"
"Capisce," said Tony Tollini, who called Federal Express the minute he got off the phone with his uncle.
In the weeks that followed Tony Tollini almost forgot he was in league with the Mafia.
Business hummed. Carmine Imbruglia hummed.
From the Salem Street Social Club, the bettor slips came in by fax. Tony logged them onto the PC system. Any incidental paper was destroyed once it had served its purpose or the information was entered into the LANSCII program.
There were a few incidents, to be sure, such as the time an odds list immolated itself while passing through the fax.
"What's with this fuggin' fax?" demanded Don Carmine. "It's trying to sabotage me."
"It's the paper," complained Tony. "I told you, you don't need to use flash paper anymore. Its outdated."
"What if the feds bust in?"
"You just erase the computer records."
Don Carmine squinted at the glowing amber lines on the PC screen.
"How do you erase light?"
"By typing star-asterisk-star. It wipes the hard disk clean."
"Star-asterisk-star," muttered Don Carmine, making a mental note to look up the spelling of asterisk. "Got it. Can I get it back afterward?"
"Maybe. Unlikely."
Carmine shrugged. "What the hell, it's better than twenty-five to thirty in the pen," he said philosophically. "We're making money hand over fist, although we're barely making rent. "
"You should think about expanding," said Tony, who, although he was still working off his debt to Don Carmine at thirty-six percent interest, felt a flush of pride in his work.
"Whatchu mean?"
"You need larger quarters. And you should think about incorporating. "
"You mean, go legit?"
"Not that exactly. But create a corporate shield around yourself. "
Don Carmine waved to his ever-present bodyguards, Pink Eye Scanga and Vinnie the Maggot.
"I got all the shield I need right here. Ain't that right, boys?"
"Whatever you say, boss."
"You know," Carmine said slowly, "I hear there's fast money in heroin up here. Maybe we should get into that."
"I thought the Mafia-"
"Hey! We don't use that word around here," Carmine snapped. "There's no such thing as the Mafia. This is just Our Thing. Got that?"
"Got it," said Tony Tollini. "I thought the, you know, didn't get involved in drug trafficking."
"What joik told you that?"
"My Uncle Fiavorante," said Tony truthfully.
"He was pullin' your fuggin' leg. If there's a dishonest buck in it, we do it. Now, how do we move drugs without it gettin' back to us?"
Tony Tollini considered this business problem seriously. "You could Fedex them, I suppose."
"Fedex? Is that like faxin'?"
"Not exactly. It's slower. Takes a day or two."
Don Carmine nodded sagely. "That makes sense. It's one thing to send paper through the telephone. Sending drugs is harder. We should start with cocaine, though."
"Why is that?" Tony wondered.
"What are you, retarded or somethin'?" Carmine jerked a nubby thumb at Tony Tollini. "Listen to this guy. He's askin' why we should start Fedexin' coke and not smack."
Don Carmine's underlings laughed on cue.
"You dink," said Don Carmine, lifting the fax receiver and holding it up to Tony Tollini's suddenly white face. "Cocaine is powder. Like salt. It's the best thing for sending through the little holes," said Carmine, stabbing at the receiver mouthpiece with a blunt finger.
"That's not how Fedexing works," said Tony woodenly.
Don Carmine looked at the phone receiver.
"You know," he said slowly, "I'm thinkin' maybe we should try Fedexin' salt first. You know, in case we dial a wrong number. It could be embarrassin', not to mention expensive. Coke ain't cheap."
There were no dissenting opinions to this observation. Tony bit his tongue.
The next day, Vinnie the Maggot showed up with a suitcase filled with cocaine in one-ounce plastic bags. The case was opened under Tony Tollini's eager eyes.