The two young gangsters were in a hurry. They always seemed to be in a hurry. It was very different than the old country. Very different then how things were done when the Clutching Hand was the capo di tutti i capi.

In the beginning of the century his clan ruled Manhattan with an iron fist. They pushed the queer and wrote the missives to the Italian businessmen who trembled in fear of the Black Hand. Anyone who objected was sent to the “murder stable” and made their way out in a barrel. Most of the time that did not even need to happen. He would just send his brother in law to speak to them. One gesture from Lupo the Wolf would be enough to turn their bowels to water. He would take off his fedora and ruffle the feather. Dust some imaginary lint off his white suit and smile. They would deliver. Not just from their trespasses. From their poverty. Anything to avoid the caress of the Black Hand.

Lupo was gone now. Tommaso the Ox. All of them. Dead or on the lam or in prison. His half-brothers as well. The only one left was the stunad Ciro. He was another of these young punks like Luciano and Anastasia. He had a hand in their liquor business with Castiglia and all the rest. Not someone to rely on when the trouble comes. And trouble always comes.

“So Don Guiseppi the Boss sent us to pick up the escarole” said the jovial Scalise. He was the jokester. The clown. Anastasia was the quiet one. More the surly one. He glowered in the corner with his hat in his hand. Which was a surprise in itself. He never went anywhere with his hat in his hand. Unless he was hiding a gun.

“I did not hear from him Francesco. Usually I send Joseph downtown. So you can understand why I might ask a question.”

“Why don’t you call him if you think we are lying to you” growled Anastasia. Some people go through life looking for a fight. It was a measure of how far he had fallen that these young punks would dare to speak to his this way. A humiliation. Just another one of many that he had to endure these days..

“This is not business that should be done over the phone. You should know this my friend. I have no problem giving you the cash. I know your word is good. I know you would not disrespect me or Don Masseria by doing anything that you would regret. Joseph gather up the cash and put it in the bag from the pears.”

“Thank you Don Morello. I am sorry to disturb you. But I need to do what I am told.” “Yes as we all do. As we all must do.”

Enough with the Mustache Pete's

The Clutching Hand sat behind the desk and shuffled the cash on his desk. The stacks were placed by denominations. Five on fives. Tens on tens. Singles on singles. The collections were never for big bills. It came in dribs and drabs from the storefronts that bought protection.

The big money was in the drink. That flowed downtown with the newer men like Luciano and Castiglia. Costello he calls himself now. They handled the money which flowed in like a river. Joe the Boss kept him out of it. He trusted the Old Fox enough to make him the consigliore. But he didn’t trust with too much money. Money had a way of sticking to the Clutching Hand. If he couldn’t steal it he could print it. Better not to suffer temptation. The smaller payments were enough for him to handle in his semi-retirement.

The door opened and Joey Perianno came in carrying two paper sacks. He opened one and put two pears on the desk. He opened the other and put more crumpled dirty bills on the blotter.

“Buon giorno Don Giuseppe. I made the collections. And a found some beautiful fruit to break our fast. Can I brew some espresso?”

“That’s not necessary Joseph. My stomach. I will have the pears though. Grazi.”

“Prego. Have you heard from downtown? When do they want us to bring down the week? Or are they sending someone again?”

“They said they would send someone. So we wait.”

They continued to mix and match the money on the desk. Munching on a pear spilling the juice on his old fashioned waist coat Don Giuseppe looked at his underboss. “What is happening downtown Joseph. Is that fop Luciano still pushing his way into everything?” “Si patron he dips his beak in every pot it seems. He controls most of the liquor. And the white powder. Not so much with the gambling. He likes the girls as well. He uses a different whore every night and visits all of the houses to see the operations. He is a greasy pimp in that regard.”

Morello shook his head. “I told Joe he will regret getting in bed with him. He is a snake. I know. I have seen it before.”

The door opened. Nobody would dare to rob them. It was Umberto Anastasia and Francesco Saclise. Two of Joe the Boss's henchmen. Cronies of Luciano.

This was not good.

Enough with the Mustache Petes

The door to the social club opened and the short soft spoken Jew walked into the room. He walked softly. He talked softly. He was deadly none the less. A snake without a rattle to warn you.

A scar faced man in an expensive suit sat at the table drinking espresso. He looked up and a flash of pleasure made a brief trip across his features. A flicker at most. You had to know him to see it. Luckily Meyer knew him well.

"Charley" he said as he pulled out a chair and put his hat on the table. "We got a problem"

"Hows that Meyer? Things seem to be calming down. We are in good with that Pig Masseria. He trusts me about as much as he trust anybody. I know you hates you but it ain't nuthun personal. It's just cause you're a Jew. He don't even like most wops if they don't come from his shit hole village back on the other side."

"Well I hear there is a new game in town. It seems that a new patron is setting up. Salvatore Maranzano. He was a hot shit back in Sicily and he came prepared. Money. Guns. Guys who can and will use them. He is already making some moves to muscle into bootlegging. It is going to come to guns sooner than later. Do you think betting on Massiera is the right play. He ain't that smart. Shrewd I grant you. But he is a dumb fuck."

"He's on top right now. Plus he has the fucking Clutching Hand and Ciro and all those fucks uptown in his pocket. It ain't the time to make the move now. We need to get more of the boys on board. It's gonna happen just not quite yet."

Meyer shook his head. "I don't know. This Marazano is not going to go quietly. He has a lot of support. Especially in Brooklyn. He's gonna make a move. I know it. I can smell it. We don't want to be standing between him and Massieria. Somethin to think on Charley. That's all."

"Fair enough. We don't have to do shit tonight. Let's go for some Jew food. I feel like pastrami."

"Katz's it is." They got up and put on their hats and walked toward the door.