"Please. Don't kill me."
"Show him the ad, somebody," ordered Don Carmine.
A newpaper was thrust into Tony Tollini's field of vision. He blinked the blurry tears from his beady frightened eyes and scanned the crumpled page.
Smack in the middle of the racing results was a blackbordered notice. It read:
LANSCII DISK FOUND
WILL RETURN FOR PROPER REWARD CALL CHIUN 555-522-9452
"Chiun was the name the Jap gave," Don Carmine growled. He glared at Tony. "Your Jap."
"He's not my Jap," Tony moaned.
"You sent him."
"I hired him off the street, Don Carmine. Please don't nibble me to death like a baby duck."
"I own you, Tollini. If I wanna nibble you into the ground, I can. And you know why. Because I'm the fuggin' Kingpin of Boston, that's why. Now, tell me where the hard-on disk is."
" I don't know. I swear to God!"
"Okay, if that's the way you want it," said Don Carmine, jerking levers. The nibbler sank an eighth of an inch, but it made Tony Tollini's tortured sternum creak like a loose shutter in the wind.
"Had enough?"
"I swear," Tony sobbed.
The nibbler dropped again.
Now Tony could not breathe because his cracking ribs were compressing his lungs. His heart felt like it was about to burst.
He clicked his heels together and thought: There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
Abruptly the nibbler lifted. The pressure went away. When Tony opened his eyes, he could inhale again. He filled his lungs greedily.
A shadow crossed his face. He looked up. Don Carmine's brutish face was looking down at him. "Scared you, didn't I?" he said.
"Yes. Don't shoot me."
"I ain't gonna fuggin' shoot you." Don Carmine made motions with his paws. "Let him up, boys. Let him up."
Tony Tollini's head, wrists, and ankles were released, and he was hauled to his feet.
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"Nothin'. You're tellin' the truth. You gotta be. A weasel like you ain't man enough to be stand-up in the face of a nibbler." He swept his hands around to indicate the rusting
construction yard with its idle equipment and piles of metal. "How'd you like my latest acquisition?"
"You bought a construction company?" asked Tony, prying a rusty gear off' the back of his dirty Izod shirt.
"Naw. I just stuck a gun in the owner's face and he said it was mine. That's what I love about this state. Nothin's worth nothin' no more. So people don't put up a fuss when you take it away from them. I figure when things bounce back, I'll be in the driver's seat."
Tony found a hearty arm around his shoulders. He looked. It was Don Carmine's arm.
" I like you, Tony. Did I ever tell you I liked you?"
"No. "
"You're sharp. You got brains. You also got what we call intesticle fortitude." He shook a lecturing finger in Tony's miserable face. "This is a good thing to have."
They were walking toward the Cadillac now. Bruno the Chef opened the rear door. Carmine stepped in. Tony meekly walked around to the trunk and waited for the lid to be opened.
"G'wan," said Don Carmine. "Get in here. From now on, you ride up front with me."
Tony slid into the back seat. The others got in. The Cadillac pulled out of the construction yard.
"Something's up," said Don Carmine as they hummed south along Route One. Tony saw sights he had never seen before. A miniature golf course guarded by a twenty-foot-tall orange plastic dinosaur, strip joints with fruit names like the Golden Banana, the Green Apple, and the Pink Peach. Chinese restaurants sprouted along the roadside like deformed mock-bamboo mushrooms.
"What do you mean, boss?" asked the Chef.
"Something about this doesn't add up. Think about it."
Everyone thought. Even Tony Tollini, although thinking wasn't in his job description.
"Anything, any of yous?" asked Don Carmine.
"Nope."
"Naw. "
"I ain't got a thing," admitted the Maggot.
"Hah. That's why yous are all soldiers and I'm the kingpin. Listen up," said Don Carmine, ticking off points on his left hand with a stubby forefinger. "Tony hires this Remo character off the street. He breaks the box and whacks out Frank, Luigi, and Guido. Bing bang boom. Just like that. Dead. All three of 'em."
"Yeah?"
"What was the last thing I said before they dragged this Remo away?"
Everyone thought. The Maggot ventured an opinion.
"Scroom?"
"No, not scroom. I said, 'Get me a Jap.' Right?"