"Why do you think I'm telling you all this, Turk?" the Capoasked. "And with these other two boys right here listening in. Why do you think?"

Turk didn't have to think. He knew. The thing was almost ceremonial — something pretty great was being conferred here tonight. He hesitated slightly, then replied, "I guess you're showing us your love for this thing of ours, Gio."

"That's right, that's part of it. I don't love it this much, though, just because I'm the boss. It's the other way around. I'm the boss because I love our thing this much. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yessir, and I appreciate the lesson, I really do."

"Okay, don't mention it. But think about it. You think about it, and when you're done thinking you tell me what all this means to you."

"I guess I can tell you right now, Gio."

"So?"

"So it's a damn shame you have to be part of this dirt that's going on, and I don't like you being a part of it. By your leave, Don Gio, I'm taking full charge of things out here tonight. I don't want your mind bothered with such trash. With these two boys sitting here as witnesses, I'm saying that I take full responsibility for what goes on here at this place — and all over town, for that matter. However it comes out, I'm the one made the decisions."

"So. About what?"

"About everything," Turk declared. "But in particular about Joliet Jake Vecci and his downtown rag-a-tags."

Don Gio promptly left his fully automated throne, walked around the desk, placed his hands upon Larry Turk's shoulders, and kissed him full on the mouth. Then he quietly said, "All right, you boys leave me alone now. And send Pete the Hauler in here."

The three confidants to the throne took a hurried leave, and once they were outside, Larry Turk chuckled nervously and said, "Shit, I hope that's no kiss of death."

"It wasn't," Charles Drago assured him. "I never saw the old man do that before. He was genuinely moved, Turk. He really was."

"Well I didn't mean that part," Turk replied. "I mean, if we win, sure, it's going to be beautiful. But what if we lose? Who's holding this big dirty bag, eh?"

Rocco added, "And what if we win here and lose somewhere else. You know what you just did, Turk. You just offered to take all the blame, in case the nationals decide something ain't exactly straight about all this."

"We'll worry about that when we need to," Turk replied brusquely. "Right now we got a lot of things to do. First we got to pull some people offa that Bolan watch. He's tying down just about all the talent we got. And I guess we're not going to play that game, not with what we know now. And we gotta start contacting people. I'll work the underbosses. Benny, you take over and start working on the caporegimesand the freelooting civilians, I mean all of 'em. Charlie, you got the oil — I guess you know what your job is."

Drago grinned and replied, "Okay, I'll start phoning people in Jake's outfit."

"You guys have to know," Turk declared soberly, "I'll always remember you for this."

Humorously, Rocco said, "You don't think we'll ever let you forget. You know, this could go down in history."

"And what about Bolan?" Charles Drago asked darkly.

"FuckBolan," Larry Turk growled. "That guy is way down on my list of worries right now."

The trumpets of destiny were loudly sounding the call to battle, it seemed, and more than one empire had been built upon the ruins of war. The turkeymaker would do well to remember, however, that the world is subject to both wars and rumors of wars — and "that guy" — wherever his place on Larry Turk's list, is something of an expert in both.

The atmosphere in Manny's back room had become almost unbearably dense with smoke from cigars and cigarettes, and there was hardly room left to cram another person inside. Crew chiefs sprawled about on the floor, some sitting with their backs against the wall, others kneeling or squattng on their haunches. They had carefully left a "pacing path" for the boss, however, and the old man was seemingly bent on wearing out the thin carpeting along that route, muttering to himself in monosyllabic Italian and every so often pounding his palm with a fist or slapping the wall above the head of a crew chief. Meninghetti and Spanno sat in straightback chairs and stared glumly into space.

No one was talking; all seemed to be quietly pondering the fates of the night. When the boss "thought" — everybody "thought."

Then Captain Hamilton came in and left the door standing ajar, wrinkling his nose at the stale air. He caught Vecci's eye during a downward pass and demanded, "Well?"

"Well I ain't decided yet!" the underboss snarled.

"You've got to make up your mind, Jake," the Captain pleaded. "I can't keep those cars circling the neighborhood all night. People are already starting to notice. Either we start loading right now or I've got to send them on without you."

"Since when," Jake coldly wanted to know, "is a kinky Chicago cop, even a fat-ass captain of detectives, so damn sure of living through th' night?"

Hamilton's eyes recoiled and he replied, "Don't threaten me, Jake."

"That's not a threat, it's a promise!" Vecci yelled. "Now shut up and lemme think!"

Hamilton crossed over and edged his rear end onto the desk. Mario Meninghetti caught his eye with a sympathetic smile; Hamilton gave him a sick one in return.

The pacing continued for another minute, then Vecci planted his feet and punched a quivering finger toward the police captain. "I ain't sending my soldiers out on no routine patrols until I find out what the hell is going on around here!"

The cop nodded his head agreeably. "I think you're right, Jake — that's good thinking. So let's cancel the whole thing. What you need is a defense line, not a patrol."

"Shut up! Just shut up! Mario!"

Meninghetti looked up quickly. "Yeah, boss?"

"Tell me again. Tell me what he said. Exact words now, exact!"

"They said that Charlie Drago is calling around. He's saying the time has come to leave the sinkin' ship. Any boys that make it out there by midnight will be welcomed with open arms. Anyone showing up after that, meaning anyone from the Loop regime, had better just keep on going clear outta the state."

"That ain't exactly the way you told me before!" Vecci cried.

"Christ, Jake, I'm not no tape recorder."

"Did they say anyboys?"

"Yeah, that's what they said."

"By midnight?"

"Exactly boss, that's exactly."

"Awright, that's great! That's exactly what we'll do!"

Meninghetti scowled. "We'll do what?"

"We'll allgo out there. We'll get this misunderstanding cleared up. We can make it by midnight." The subcapoturned to Captain Hamilton. "Didn't you say it'd stopped snowing?"

Hamilton nodded, obvious relief written all over his face. "But it's still nasty as hell out there, Jake. It's a freezing rain now, not too heavy, but the streets are getting hellish. You'd better get moving right away if you're going to make it by midnight."

Meninghetti growled, "Well now wait a minute, Jake. Are yougoing out there too?"

"Sure I am."

"You'll be walking right into it!" the caporegimereplied despairingly.

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't." Vecci's mind seemed to be made up. Even his good humor was returning. He winked at Pops Spanno and said, "Go out and tell the boys to get ready. We're loadin' up."

"Loading up in what?" Captain Hamilton groaned.

"Stop worrying, we're not riding in your bubble-gum machines, that's for sure. I ain't dumb enough to go rolling in there in police cars. Save about two out, and send the rest of them on, Ham."