Macchiato Ristorante, Toronto
VICTOR CIPRIANO of the Toronto Outfit held court in a back room of Macchiato Ristorante on King Street in downtown Toronto. Cosimo Saputo and Primo Troilo, two former members of the deceased Sal Russo's Hamilton organization, sat to his right. Mauro 'Count' Contini from East Toronto and Giovany 'The Bull' Nuvolette from North Toronto, sat at the far end of the table. They headed separate Camorra crime families, a force that originated in the region of Campania and its capital Naples centuries before. The clinking of plates and cutlery, mixed with the voices of pleasant conversation could be heard from the crowded restaurant just beyond the closed door. The spicy aroma of rich spaghetti sauce, roasting garlic and baked bread floated around the room.
"This Rocco DeLuca has become a problem," Cipriano said.
Contini looked at his glass of wine as he spoke, "Maybe for you, Victor. You promised us profits from moving whiskey into the Niagara region. You made the promise in return for us working together."
"He's right," Nuvolette agreed. "So...tell me why we should keep working together? Can you tell me?"
Cipriano pursed his lips, "Well, for one thing, it keeps us from killing each other."
Contini laughed, "I think it's more about you not getting killed by Nolan McCabe and the Irish. He really wants the liquor business, Victor."
"Maybe if we step out of the way...?" Nuvolette added. He let his voice trail off with the implication.
"Where would the profit be in that?" Cipriano asked.
Contini swirled the wine in his glass, "We just continue on with what we do. La Mano Nera."
"Selling whiskey to an eager and thirsty public is much easier than forcing money from people," Cipriano pointed out.
"But maybe not as much fun," Nuvolette said.
Cipriano turned his attention to Cosimo Saputo and Primo Troilo. Both men had sat silent to this point, picking at the meal on their plate. "What about Guido Vitalie?" he asked. "What's he saying?"
Saputo put his fork down, "He's made a deal to get his whiskey from DeLuca."
"Has he thrown his lot in with DeLuca?" The angry question had come from Nuvolette.
Saputo shook his head no, "He told us he just wasn't interested in getting in a war with DeLuca–"
"With Provencano gone, the territory is wide open," Contini said. "Why wouldn't he just move in across the city and take it all?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to go to war with us either," Saputo suggested.
"Maybe he doesn't want to go against you two?" Contini shook his head derisively.
Primo Troilo put down his fork, turned his chair a bit and looked down the table towards Contini, "Why don't you come down some day and try it yourself?"
Contini exaggerated several nods of his head, "Maybe I will."
Nuvolette smiled at the fractious interchange but addressed Cipriano as if any threat from Cosimo Saputo and Primo Troilo was of little concern. "And what happened to that promise of easy whiskey from that place downtown?" he asked.
"The Gooderham and Worts Distillery? I'm still working on it. When the government ordered them to support the war effort and convert the distillery operations to manufacturing acetone, the equipment was left unattended and deteriorated. The boys that returned home from service were trying to refurbish everything when prohibition killed that idea. They don't want to buck the law. I'm trying to buy it, but the family also doesn't want to sell–"
"And you don't see the importance of forcing people to cooperate," Nuvolette interjected sarcastically.
Cipriano grit his teeth, "We can get all the whiskey we want from Greenshields in Quebec–"
"As long as DeLuca doesn't interfere. Right?" Contini asked.
"He won't," Cipriano insisted.
"So you say," Nuvolette added.
"If we dump him into Lake Ontario, we won't have to worry about that," Saputo said forcefully.
"Right. We...that's why you're here right? 'Cause you can't do it on your own?" Nuvolette growled.
Cipriano raised a hand to calm everyone, "If we work together–"
"Why do we want to get dragged into a war?" Saputo asked. "For more promises? More broken promises?"
"What do you want?" Cipriano asked slowly.
Nuvolette sniffed his wine and took a sip, smacking his lips before he answered. "West Toronto."
"And Oshawa," Contini added.
Cipriano looked at the two men without reaction, watching them drink their wine and looking pleased with each other. "Are you trying to surround me?" he asked softly.
Nuvolette looked at Contini and give a slight shrug, "I don't see it that way. You got a lot of territory in the middle of the city. And you moved into Parkdale and Brockton Village." His eyes slowly moved towards the far end of the table and gave Cipriano a hard look, "It seems to me you're spreading your wings, Victor. Moving further and further away from your home...."
Cipriano drummed his fingers softly on the table as he considered the two crime bosses at the far end. Then he gestured to Saputo and Troilo, "Why don't I talk to these two gentlemen from Hamilton and determine exactly what they need. Then we can all get back together and finalize this deal?"
Nuvolette picked up a serviette and wiped his hands off, "That sounds good to me. This was a great meal, Victor. Give my compliments to the chef."
Contini drained his glass of wine and set it down on the table hard, "Yeah. Good wine, good meal ..." He pushed his chair back and rose from the table, leaving the obligatory 'good company' hanging in the air.
Cipriano didn't bother rising and he never said anything as Nuvolette moved around the end of the table to join Contini.
Contini patted Saputo hard on the shoulder as he passed, "You two have a safe trip home."
Troilo put a hand on Saputo's leg to keep him from rising.
The sounds and conversation from the busy restaurant rose in pitch as the door opened for the two departing crime bosses. A moment later the sound was muted as the door closed.
Saputo picked up his wine and said under his breath, "I'll kill that mother...."
Troilo glanced at Cipriano, "Sorry, Victor. He gets a little hot headed at times–"
"You don't need to make apologies for me," Saputo spat.
An amused smile crossed Cipriano's face, "I can understand your feelings. Those two have caused me problems for some time now. And...as you can see...they're trying to box me in." Cipriano picked up his wine glass and took a sip, "I had plans to expand west...all the way to London eventually. But...with those two around...."
Saputo lifted his wine glass to his lips and then suggested in a low voice, "Perhaps...we can solve that problem...."
"Perhaps," Cipriano said quietly. He picked up a napkin and passed it across his lips, "Anything I can do...?"
Troilo sniffed and passed a hand across his nose, "We would need a supply of liquor."
Cipriano nodded. "There are some spots along Burlington Bay where cases could be dropped off–"
"And we want the opportunity to supply the Buffalo market," Saputo added.
Cipriano didn't answer. He just folded the napkin in half, then folded it again.
Troilo sniffed again, "It's a natural extension to the Hamilton market. From a business point of view."
"I see," Cipriano said. "And...how about Guido Vitalie? Isn't he between Hamilton and Buffalo?"
"Not a problem," Saputo said. "We'll drop him in the bay...right beside DeLuca. If you want."