"Got it off a guy," said the Maggot casually.
"Just like that?"
"Well, I had to shoot him first, of course."
"Oh."
"Okay," said Don Carmine briskly. " I got a customer to send it to. Get to Fedexin'."
Tony Tollini looked at the small lake of pure white coke under his nose.
"Maybe someone should sample it," he suggested eagerly.
"Good idea. We mighta got took. You wanna do the honors?"
"Gladly," said Tony Tollini.
He popped a bag and sifted a small pile of white powder onto the table. Unscrewing his solid silver ball-point pen, he emptied it of its ink reservoir and used the hollow lower end to inhale a line.
"Whew! Great!" said Tony, his eyes acquiring a shine.
"Good stuff?" asked Don Carmine gruffly.
"The best," said Tony, grinning.
"Great. You now owe me three hundred little ones."
The shine went out like a wet match. "Three hundred!"
"Street price. What-you think I'd give you a free hit? Hah, I don't give nothin' free out of the goodness of my own heart. Is that pen silver?"
"Yeah," said Tony unhappily.
Don Carmine snapped his fingers twice. "Give it here. My price just went up. Three hundred and a silver pen. Nice doin' business with you, joik. Now, get the phone number from Pink Eye and Fedex an ounce to the guy what lives there. "
" I need the address too."
"Makes sense," said Don Carmine. "You gonna move somethin' heavy like coke you need the address too. It's only reasonable."
Tony picked up the fax receiver.
Don Carmine watched him carefully. If he had to whack out this guy, he would want to know exactly how to Fedex coke.
To Don Carmine's surprise, Tony Tollini simply dialed a number, spoke briefly, and then hung up.
"It's all set," Tony said, turning to Don Carmine.
"Whatchu mean, it's all set? You never moved the coke. It's still fuggin' in the case there!"
"They pick it up."
Don Carmine pushed out a thick lower lip. "Who does?"
"The Fedex people."
"Oh. Oh. This I gotta see. What's their cut?"
"They usually charge about twenty dollars a delivery."
"Fine. It comes outta your end.
"Why?"
"On account of you didn't tell me first," Don Carmine snarled. "You wanna spend my money, you tell me first. The double sawbuck comes outta you. Consider it an object lesson. A cheap one."
Less than a half-hour later there came a knock at the door.
"I'll get it," said Bruno the Chef casually.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Don Carmine said with hushed urgency. "Everybody wait one fuggin' minute here. I smell a rat."
"What?" asked Bruno, dropping into a crouch.
"Check out the window. Look past the curtain. What d'you see? Tell me what you see."
Bruno stopped dead in his tracks and scrunched down. He looked over the green chintz curtain that blocked off the lower part of the storefront windows.
"I see a van," Bruno said, eyeing the street.
"Right. What's on the side of the van?"
"Words. I can make one out. Says 'Federal.' Wait a minute! 'Federal'!"
"That's just-" Tony Tollini started to say.
"The feds!" hissed Carmine Imbruglia. "You. Maggot. Toss me your piece."
A .38 revolver went sailing into Carmine Imbruglia's meaty hand.
"Cover me. I'll show those feds not to mess with the Kingpin of Boston."
"No, wait," Tony tried to say, waving his hands frantically.
"Shut him up," Carmine barked.
A hand went smack against Tony Tollini's face and he crumpled in a corner.