TAPE NYPD-SIS-196-BL. PREMISES of candy store at 4678 West End Avenue. Approximately 10:28 A.M., 3 June, 1968.
CYNTHIA HASKINS: The New Urban Reorganization Committee. May I help you?
THOMAS: It’s me, Snap.
CYNTHIA: What’s wrong?
THOMAS: I bombed out. The fucking Irishman on the door won’t talk unless he gets a go-ahead from the management agents, Shovey and White, on Madison Avenue.
CYNTHIA: Oh, my God. Duke will kill us.
THOMAS: Don’t get your balls in an uproar, luv. I thought of something on the way here. I’m calling from a pay phone on the corner of Seventy-third Street and York Avenue.
CYNTHIA: Jesus’ sake, Tommy, take it easy. Duke said not to take any chances. Duke said if anything came up to lay off. Now you say you thought of something. Tommy, don’t. …
THOMAS: You think he’s paying us five bills to lay off? He wants us to use our brains, doesn’t he? That’s why he looked us up, isn’t it? If he wanted a couple of dumdums he could have bought them for a bill. Duke wants results. If we don’t blow the whole goddamned thing—whatever it is—he won’t care how we did it.
CYNTHIA: Tommy, I. …
THOMAS: Shut up and listen. Here’s how we’ll work it. …