2

THE STOCKY MAN LOOKING out the window wore a black pinstripe Armani suit over a fine white Egyptian cotton shirt and red paisley necktie selected from a catalog mailed monthly by an exclusive designer men’s shop in Milan. He took in the view around him a few seconds longer before answering the question put to him by the junior United States Senator from Rhode Island.

“You can do whatever you like, Senator,” he said, turning away from the window. “Go back to your jewelry factory if you want. And if that’s not good enough anymore, set yourself up as a consultant or a lobbyist.” Sandy Tarantino’s voice was gruff, as if fighting its way through some bronchial congestion. “Do something with the influence you’ve got. Use the fucking connections you’ve made here in the last five years. Or maybe you want to take some time off. My family will carry you for a while. Like I said before, we’re trying to make this easy for you.”

The Senator was peeved, and it showed when he spoke. “Your father never said I’d have to quit after one term. If Sal told me that, I might not even have bothered to run.”

Tarantino walked over to one of the chairs in front of Spence Hardiman’s desk and sat down. He stared hard at the white-haired man, twenty years his senior, before speaking. “That’s bullshit, Senator. You’d have jumped at the chance to come here if the goddam term had been for just a year. And my father never gave you any guarantees when he financed your campaign.”

Hardiman was having a difficult time keeping himself under control. The phone call he received from the elder Tarantino a few days earlier was friendly. Sal just said that his son would be in Washington to see him. Hardiman assumed the Family needed his help on some matter and that he’d solve the problem by speaking to the right person. But instead, the cocky young man with the menacing half smile had wasted no time in telling him that the Tarantinos didn’t want him to run for a second term.

“We want John Sacco out of the Statehouse after next year,” Sandy said. “There’s one hell of an issue on casino gambling coming up and our thinking is he’d probably be against us on it. The Family never put anything more than chump change in Sacco’s campaign so there’s nothing he owes us. We’ve got to have our own man in the governor’s chair, someone we can count on to veto any bill that would hurt us. So Sacco’s got to find a place he’d rather be than Providence. That’s right here, Senator, where you’re sitting. My father’s sorry you have to move out, but that’s the way it is.”

Hardiman tried to find out more about the gambling matter. He wanted Sandy to feel he still had plenty of influence in what went on in Rhode Island. “Believe me,” he said, pointing his thumb at his chest, “there’s guys in both the House and Senate back there I can still control. They’ll do what I tell ’em.”

“Forget it, Senator. The decision’s already been made. Sal’s not taking any chances. He’s got to know the governor’s in our pocket when we need him.”

Hardiman began to feel nauseous. He wanted Tarantino out of his office. He was being pushed hard to agree to something he wanted no part of. It would be better to get his old friend Sal on the telephone and talk about it. Maybe he could get the Tarantinos the help they needed, even if they didn’t think so. But goddammit, being a United States Senator meant everything to him and he couldn’t let this kid just walk in and change his life on the spot.

The Senator got up from behind his massive oak desk and walked over to where Tarantino was sitting. He anticipated that his movement would prompt Sandy into getting up also and that he’d be able to walk him to the door. When Tarantino ignored his approach, Hardiman wasn’t sure what to do. He took a couple of steps backwards, pushed aside some papers on the corner of the desk and sat down, somewhat tentatively. Unaware of his body language, he folded his arms together in front of him while he considered his next move.

“I’m glad I finally got to meet you today, Sandy,” Hardiman began, shaking his head up and down slightly for emphasis. “Sal has spoken to me about you any number of times. He’s proud of you and knows the Family will be in good hands when it’s time for you to take his place.”

Tarantino didn’t say anything. He thought he knew where Hardiman was going with this. But one of the lessons his father had taught him was never to speak too soon. “Sometimes,” Sal had cautioned him, “they’ll know just from looking at your face that you’re not happy with what they’re saying and they’ll change it halfway through. So be patient. Don’t interrupt. You’ll always get your chance to talk.”

Hardiman was becoming uncomfortable with Tarantino’s silence and the fact that his effort to be friendly didn’t have any effect. The ominous smile was still visible on his visitor’s face. “I’m sure this isn’t something that has to be decided today,” he continued. “I’ll think over everything you’ve said and give Sal a call. Tell him he can expect to hear from me in a few days.”

Tarantino started to get up. Hardiman thought the meeting was finally over. But just as the Senator began moving away from his desk, Sandy was on top of him, grabbing his shirt and tie just a few inches below the older man’s neck. Hardiman couldn’t believe what was happening. He felt stabs of pain as Tarantino’s strong hold on him seemed to be pulling hairs from his chest.

“We’re not asking you to do us a favor, Senator,” Sandy hissed into his face. Hardiman could feel a few drops of spittle land on his cheek. “You’re goddam through here when your term’s up. That’s been decided. My old man got you elected and now he’s telling you it’s over. Don’t give us any of that ‘I’ll call him later shit.’ There’s nothing to talk about.”

Tarantino kept a tight grasp on Hardiman while he spoke. But as he held on, his hand shook back and forth so that his knuckles kept pounding into the Senator’s chest. Hardiman thought about shouting for help but was afraid to do it. He knew things would get a lot worse for him if Sal’s son were arrested in his office for an assault. There’d be no way to stop the publicity and Sal Tarantino would become his enemy. That’s one thing he didn’t want. He’d just have to hope this nightmare was almost over.

Suddenly, as if he’d read the Senator’s thoughts, Tarantino’s free hand whipped across Hardiman’s face, slapping his left cheek with a force that made the Senator’s head jerk back. The blow would have sent him sprawling on the floor if Sandy hadn’t been holding onto his shirt and tie.

“Do you understand me now?” Sandy asked. He kept his voice low. “We’ll give you the time frame to announce to the folks back home that you’ve decided not to run for a second term. My father will let you know. So get used to the fact that you won’t be campaigning again next year. Do you hear me loud and clear, Senator?”

Hardiman had to swallow before he could answer. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Okay.”

At that, Tarantino released his hold. Tears had filled Hardiman’s eyes just seconds after he’d been struck and were slowly rolling down his cheeks. He seemed oblivious to it and made no effort to wipe them away. Tarantino walked over to the closet where he hung his suit jacket earlier, slipped it off the hanger and put it on. He looked in the mirror on the back side of the closet door and straightened the knot in his tie before returning to where Hardiman stood. The Senator hadn’t moved.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Senator. Just listen to what my father tells you. Because if you don’t, you know what can happen. We wouldn’t want it to come to that—you and Sal have known each other a long time—but business is business. Sometimes things get out of hand.”

Tarantino hesitated a few moments before extending his right hand to the Senator. “Thanks for the meeting,” he said.

Like a beaten fighter who has gotten up off the canvas dazed and unsteady on his feet, Hardiman shook the hand that had just disrupted his world. “Okay,” was all he could say again.