Prologue
The two men sat at a small table near the back of the coffee shop. On the table between them were scattered some hand written letters and a few pictures. The older of the two men was dressed in a suit. He had white hair and wore an expression of agitation. The other man was younger. He was wearing a button up shirt and slacks. His face was full of skepticism.
"How can I be certain that these signatures are for real?" the younger man asks.
"Any detective worth his weight on the Chicago force should be able to verify them." the older man replied. "Take some pictures of the signatures. Only the signatures. Show them to any cop in Chicago."
The younger man sifted through the documents one more time. He knew a guy that was an expert in his own right about the subject in question. If only the older man were willing to let him take just one letter with him.
"Can I just borrow one letter? That would be so much easier."
"No! I told you. I don't want nobody else to know this exists. I only came to you because I think you will do what is right and tell the story the way it should be told."
The younger man thinks this over. He does not know if he can do what the old timer is asking. He does know that if these pieces of history are real he has an oppurtunity to make a lot of money. He should jump at the chance. The old man's asking price for his collection is what worries him.
"Okay. I will snap a few shots with my phone. If I can get them verified I will get in touch with you and we can discuss a price. How does that sound?" he offers.
"You snap your shots and what not." the old man is becoming more agitated." When you get them verified you can contact me. Only if you have the money. I a'int discussing nothing. You pay fifty thousand or you don't get the package."
The reporter brings his cell phone out of his pocket and snaps a quick picture of one signature. As he is getting ready to snap another the old man snatches the paper from in front of him.
"We got a deal or what?" he asks.
"Yes. I verify these and I will pay you fifty thousand dollars for that envelope."
" Okay. you can take two more pictures. Three should be plenty to show around." the gentleman is already stuffing the photos into a large envelope.
Just as his phone's shutter clicks on the last image the old man stands to leave, grabbing the documents in the process. He takes his coat from the back of the chair and slides it on.
" I look forward to hearing from you soon." he is walking toward the door of the shop.
"Wait!” the reporter calls out. “How will I get in touch with you when I am ready?”
The old man did not respond. He simply walked out of the doors. The young man was left with his thoughts. He had more questions at the moment than he had answers. How was he going to validate the signatures on the letters? Who was the strange old timer that had contacted him? How would he know where to find the stranger?
He scrolled through the three photos on his phone. He decided to call his friend and hope that he would be able to help him out.
The phone rang twice before it was answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey Don, I have something I need you to take a look at for me.”
“Really? What does a sports columnist have that he needs me to look at? Ya know sports aren’t really my thing.”
“ I know. Trust me you are gonna flip. I have three pictures of signatures that I want you to look at. I need you to verify them for me.”
“Okay. I can meet you in about an hour at that little deli by my apartment.” Don said, then added “ Just whose signature do you have?”
“ I have Mr. Alphonse Capone’s.” the reporter replied.
“ I’ll meet you in twenty minutes. Same place.” And he hung up the phone.
Chapter One
“Really Alphonse. I would really love it if you keep your word this time.” The young woman looked at her husband over her coffee mug.
“I will be here Mae. I promise.” her nineteen year old husband replied.
He had his face turned away so that Mae was not able to see the three slash marks on the left side of his face. The area remained hairless and ugly to him. He had gotten into an argument some time ago with a woman at the club where he worked. Her brother had become upset, saying that Al had insulted his sister. When Al refused to apologize to the woman, the man had attacked him with a razor and made three long cuts on his otherwise handsome face. Al hated the scars. Because of them he had earned the nickname 'Scarface' from some who knew him, though most did not call him this to his face.
“You’ve said that every night this week and then you come in near dawn. I know Frankie has you out doing his dirty work.” The young woman stood up and placed her mug in the sink.” Betty says the baby will be here any day. I want us to have at least one meal together before I am stuck in bed.”
“We will. This evening for sure. I’ll tell Frankie when I get to work. I’m sure one of the other boys can cover for me. Milt owes me anyway.”
The woman absentmindedly rubbed her hand across her swollen stomach. The baby inside responded with a soft kick. She turned and swept her eyes across her husband’s face before settling them on the gray Brooklyn morning outside.
“I been missing your good home cooking anyways.” He said as he stood.
Al came over to stand in front of his young bride. He took her face in his hands and gently kissed her lips. She gave a small smile as he turned away. He swept his overcoat from the back of his chair and slid it on. He turned once more to his wife.
“I love you Mae. I will be home early tonight.” With that he left the apartment.
In the lobby he found his closest friend waiting for him. Francis Arnini had known Al since they were both schoolboys. They had begun their lives of crime around the same time. Both had seemed destined for the big house when Frankie Yale offered them jobs. He had hired both of them. The pay was decent and they didn’t worry so much about the law messing with them. Frankie had most of them in his pocket.
“How’s Mae?” he asked Al.
“She’s doing okay. Staying on my back to be home early for supper. I promised her I would be here tonight.”
“How ya gonna get Frankie to let ya go early? It’s Wednesday. You know the joint is always busy on Wednesday.”
“Just you let me worry about Frankie. Milt owes me for last week. I’m gonna make him cover for me. Frankie can’t say no if I got someone to take my place.”
The pair stepped outside into the brisk December morning. There was a bite to the air that Al had not expected. Luckily he had remembered his scarf and he pulled it close around his neck. He knew Francis had not brought his car. They rarely ever drove to the Harvard, preferring the walk. It was not far, only a few miles and they were always on time.
“I hear the action’s getting hotter over in Chicago.” Francis said after a few seconds of silence.
“Yeah I heard too. Heard them fellas got more work than they can handle out there.” Al responded.
“See I been thinking about maybe going over that way. See if I could do a little better. Give Eve and the boys a better life. Besides Eve wants to get outta Brooklyn soon anyway. She says it’s just a matter of time before the law comes sniffing around at Frankie’s place.”
“You should talk to Frankie. You know, he's got that partner out there. What's his name, Johnny Torrio? Maybe he could get you set up real nice.”
“Nah. I’m thinking, maybe if I go out there I might I don’t know, go legit. Ya know, me and Eve we got the boys now. I don’t wanna be worried every minute that someone’s either gonna plug me or stuff me in the slammer.”
“Yeah, I know. I been thinking about it myself. Sure would make Mae happy if I was home every night for supper.Money's better in this line of work though."
The two men realized they had reached the Harvard Inn where they were both under the employ of Frankie Yale. Al knocked on the door so the doorman would know it was them and not the law. After thirty seconds a burly bearded man cracked the door and peered out at them. He quickly opened the door when he seen who was knocking.
“Boss wants to talk to you,Al. Says it’s urgent so you better head right to his office. First thing.”
“Sure thing, Jack. See ya in a few Francis.” Al turned in the direction of the boss’s office.
“He wants to talk to Francis too. Soon as you are done.” The door man addded.
Al looked at Francis and grinned. Together they made their way to Frankie’s office. Al rapped lightly on the door.
“Get your ass in here!” came from inside.
Al gave Francis a surprised look before slipping into the room. Was it just him or did Frankie sound kind of angry? Al couldn’t think of any mistakes he’d made recently. A mistake in his line of work could cost him his life. Al always made sure any job he pulled was done perfectly. He never left any loose ends. He liked to please his employer.
“Sit down Alphonse.” Frankie was the only person other than Mae and his mother that called him Alphonse.
“Sure thing Boss.” Al replied as he sat across the desk from his boss.
“Al I got some guys from Chicago that won’t leave me alone ‘til I ask you this. What do you think about heading up to Cicero for a while? Doing a few jobs for Johnny?” Frankie asked.
Al thought for a minute. He didn’t really want to go to Chicago right then. Maybe in a few months after Mae had the baby. He wasn’t sure what Frankie expected him to say though. The last thing he wanted to do was make Frankie angry.
“Really? Johnny wants me to work for him? I wouldn't think he'd remember me after all this time passing."
“Yea he remembers you. Hard for him to forget when I'm always telling him how good you do when you go out for me."
Al looked at his mentor and employer. His breath caught in his chest. Frankie looked terrible! His skin was pale, almost a gray color. His eyes were so bloodshot it was impossible to tell which part was iris and which part was supposed to be white. He had sores that resembled popped zits all over his neck and even a few on his face.
“Boss, you feeling okay?” he asked sheepishly.
“Some crazy asshole bit me last night. I got up this morning feeling like shit. Doc says I should start feeling better sometime today. I sure can’t feel much worse than I do right now.”
Frankie removed a silk handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to cough loudly into it. Al thought he might be sick just listening to it.
“Who’s the dead man that bit you, Boss?”
“Don’t worry yourself. I took care of it. I got him in the bar. When I feel better I plan on dealing with him.”
“Give yourself a couple days to think this whole thing over, Kid. I told that guy that came to give me a few days. Talk to Mae, see what she thinks about it. This is a big deal. I can tell you though, Johnny Torrio is the man to work for in Chicago.” He hacked some more into his handkerchief.
“Maybe you should go home. Rest a couple hours. You know, come back when you’re feeling like yourself again.” Al suggested.
“Nah. I can rest later. I gotta talk to Francis too. Same guy wants him to come out there with you. Course I only wanna spare one of you boys. You two are my best workers.” Frankie managed a small smile.
Al stood and walked to the door.
“He’s just outside here. I’ll tell him to come on in.” Al left the office and Francis entered.
He had a sudden urge not to let his friend go in the office. That he should do what he could to stop him. Al knew better though. If you didn't do what Frankie Yale asked of you, you usually were not around to make that mistake again.
Al walked to the front of the club. If any cops happened to get in they would not immediately realize the club was a very illegal place of business. There was a brothel upstairs that operated every evening after ten and many of the clients that came in to see the boss were actually there to pay up for the next month of 'protection'. Either they paid, or Frankie wreaked some very undesired pain on them and theirs. Many of Brooklyn's finest visited the club on any given night. Probably over half knew what was going down in the rooms upstairs and down. They were paid well by Frankie to look the other way.
Al stepped up to the coat check counter. The pretty young blond Frankie had hired was waiting there for someone to need their coat checked. It was still fairly early in the day. Most folks didn’t start patronizing the Harvard Inn until after noon. Al slipped his coat off and handed it to her.
“So you ready to take me up on that offer yet Looker?” she asked him.
“No Martha. I told you, I only have eyes for my wife.”
She sighed as she hung Al’s coat up on his hook. She had it bad for Al. He admitted that yes she was a beauty, he just didn’t want to do something like that to Mae.
As he walked away from Martha and the coat counter Francis walked over. He handed Martha his coat also and then the two decided to head to the bar. Waiting for customers to start coming in they would enjoy a drink. They sat on stools and both men told the bar man, Arnie, to give them whiskey. The bartender responded by sliding two glasses of the liquor over to them. Both men picked their glass up at the same instant. Al looked over at Francis and almost dropped his own drink. There was a huge swollen bite on the inside of his friend's hand.
“What did Frankie need to talk to you about?” Al asked Francis.
“I’m not sure. I was about to sit down when he asked me if I wanted a smoke. Of course I did so I reached over to get one and Frankie grabbed my hand and bit me.” Francis slid his sleeve up just a bit to give Al a better look at the nasty bite on his hand. “He bite you too? That his new way of marking us or something?”
“No. He said Johnny Torrio in Cicero wants me to go to work for him. He looked pretty sick though. Said some crazy bastard bit him last night.” Al explained.
“Yeah he brought the guy in this morning.” Arnie interupted. “That guy over there. He fell asleep about thirty minutes ago.”
The barkeep jerked his thumb toward the other end of the bar. Sure enough there was an older man sitting there. His head slumped over on the bar. Al wondered if whatever the guy had was contagious without being bitten.
Al looked over at Francis’ hand again. Frankie had got him pretty good. The wound looked nasty and pus was oozing out of it.
“You should have that looked at. Frankie was pretty sick. Doc should be around here somewhere. I can go find him for you.” Al wanted an excuse to move. He felt the need to get away from the ooze dripping from his friend's hand.
As he stood and turned around he realized the man he had just been talking about was standing five feet away from them. He was talking to Jack, the door man. Al walked toward them and Doc turned to face him.
“Doc! I was just talking about you. Frankie bit the shit out of Francis’ hand. I hoped maybe you could help him out with it.”
Doc looked at Al. He looked tired and much older than what he actually was. His real name was Edward Litrino. Everyone called him Doc due to the time he’d spent in the military doing medical work for the government. He had been a field doctor in the first world war. He and Frankie had been good friends before the war so when Eddie was discharged Frankie sought him out. He wanted the man to work for him. Fix wounds, sew holes, treat diseases. No questions asked. Of course Eddie had agreed. He was fairly wealthy less than a year after returning from the war.
Doc came over to where Francis was sitting. He sat on the stool beside him opposite of Al.
“Let me take a look at that.” He reached for Francis’ injured hand.
Reluctantly Francis offered his hand to the man. Doc turned it over as he studied it. He seemed to be as repelled as Al by the look of it.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,Al. When I looked at Frankie’s bite it didn’t look this bad. He had been bitten hours before I seen it. How long ago did you get this bite Francis?” the man looked worried.
“He just bit me maybe fifteen minutes ago. I was in there talking to him. He was fine and the next thing I know he grabs my hand and takes a chomp.” Francis emphasized this point by chomping his teeth.
Doc asked Arnie to pour him a large glass of whiskey. Al found this odd. Doc never drank. Francis must have thought the same thing because he looked over at Al questioningly.
“ Al I need you to hold his arm still. I need to pour this whiskey directly into the bite. It should kill any germs that may be in there. This should save him from getting any sicker.” Doc explained.
Al moved behind Francis. He held onto his friend’s arm. The bite was exposed and Al seen that it looked much worse than it had just moments before. Certainly the bite on Francis’ hand looked much worse than the one Al had noticed on Frankie. How was this possible?
He held Francis still while Doc poured a large amount of liquor onto the open wound. Francis was spitting obscenities and screaming in pain. After the glass in Doc’s hand was empty he let go of the hand. He removed a linen handkerchief from his coat pocket and began to wrap the sore. Al noticed that each time the linen made a round it became more and more bloodstained. He didn’t think the bite had been bleeding before but perhaps Doc had squeezed while he was working on it. Either way he let go of his friend's arm and sat back down on his stool.
“ So you think that will help him, Doc?” Al asked.
“I sure hope so. I had asked Frankie to let me do the same for him. He was adamant about me leaving it be. Said it hurt enough without me messing with it. Maybe that’s why our young friend here has a bite that looks much worse much more quickly.” Doc stood.
“He needs to go home and rest. Shouldn’t be here until he feels better. That way if he gets bitey himself he cant hurt anyone else.” Arnie spoke up.
“No. I ain’t going to my place. Eve and the boys are there. I don’t wanna bite one of them either.” Francis said between clenched teeth.
“You can go to my place then.” Al suggested.
“Are you deaf, Al? I don’t wanna put my family in harms way. Why the hell would I put your pregnant wife in danger? What if I bit her and she got sick and lost the baby?”
“Well where do you wanna go?” Al asked.
“He can go to my house. I got no wife so there’s nobody there to worry about getting bitten. He can have the whole place to himself---“
Doc was interrupted at that second by Martha screaming and running toward them. The old man who they had all thought asleep on the bar was chasing her. Only he didn’t appear to be moving very quickly and he had a terrible limp. He actually appeared to be dragging his left leg .
“Get this creep away from me!” Martha shouted.
Before any of the men could react the old man managed to catch up with Martha who had tripped over a fallen chair.He took a bite out of her arm. Blood spewed all over the man’s face. Instead of spitting the flesh from his mouth, however, the man gobbled it up.
Francis retched as did Arnie. Before Al or Doc could move to help anyone Jack ran over and tackled the old man to the floor. This seemed to agitate the old guy and he chomped his teeth toward Jack’s face. Jack whacked him in the head with a pool stick. That did nothing to slow the old man. Finally Jack hit him so hard that it should have knocked him out cold. It did not. The old man kept trying to chew on the door man’s arm. Just as it looked as if he might get a bite Doc came to attention.
He moved pretty quickly for his age. He yanked the tie from his neck and found a scarf in his pocket. He moved so fast Al wasn’t sure what he was doing. At last he finished tying the man up. With his arms and legs unable to do his bidding the old man became enraged. Instead of cussing or threatening he procceded to screech as loudly as he possibly could. It was a deafening sound that none of them could block from their minds.
Al looked over at Martha. She had lost so much blood! Her face was pale and she looked like she was barely hanging on.
“Doc! I think you should check Martha out.” Al called.
The older man came over to where the woman was lying on the ground barely breathing. He felt her neck then her wrist.
“The sick crazy must have bitten into an artery I’m afraid.” He said solemnly.
Al looked at Martha lying on the floor. He felt sorry for the pretty girl. Already her eyes were glassing over. He knew she was on her way out. Doc was kneeling beside her stroking her hair in an attempt to comfort her. Al didn’t know if she could be comforted. She was not screaming or hysterical but it was almost as if she knew she was dying.
After about three minutes Doc stood. He looked over at young Al and shook his head a tiny bit. Martha was dead.
“Doc, what kind of shit is this? What makes a man attack another man like that?” Jack asked.
“I really wish I could answer that. I have never seen anything like this. Not even in the war and I seen men do crazy things out there.”
Al looked at Francis. He looked pretty bad already. Why was this affecting him so much more quickly than it had Frankie? There were so many questions that Al had no answer for.
All of a sudden everyone’s attention was pulled toward the Boss’s office. Loud banging had started and there was a terrible moan coming from inside. Al looked back at where Martha’s body lay. Should they move her or let her be? He didn’t know.
As if to answer his question for him Martha’s leg began to jerk. Al thought he was seeing things. Then ever so slightly her hand started to move. The next thing he knew she was sitting up. How in the world was she sitting up? She turned her attention to the banging sounds coming from across the building. Al caught a flash of her eyes as they swept by. Her eyes were still glassy. They didn’t appear to even see him standing merely feet away from her.
“Doc, I thought you said she was dead?” Arnie said shakily.
The older man turned toward the woman. His eyes were full of surprise.
“She was. I felt her pulse stop.” He whispered.
"Maybe her heart just skipped a beat or something." Francis offered.
Suddenly Martha whipped her head around in the direction of the men's voices. Before any of them could react she was off the floor and on top of Arnie. She knocked him down to the ground and began trying to bite him. He was holding her teeth from his face with a strong arm. She finally settled for the arm and took a chunk out of it. Arnie screamed in pain. Jack ran over and tried to pull the petite woman off the bar man. She smacked him hard enough to send him stumbling back a few feet. He quickly gathered himself and moved toward her again.
“Get off him you crazy bitch!” the door man yelled.
He was trying his hardest to push the woman off but to no avail. She had already managed to rip into his face and was currently eating his cheek. Al finally got into motion and rushed to help Jack. Together they managed to pull Martha off. They held her arms and legs as tightly as they could and decided to throw her into the store room. They could lock her in and she wouldn’t be able to bite (or eat) anyone else.
“Doc, go ahead and take Francis to your place.” Al said.
Francis and Doc both looked toward him. Doc reached into his pocket and came out with a pistol.
“Geez man! What the hell is that for?” Francis asked,frightened.
“Don’t worry it’s not for you. It’s just in case any more crazies decide to get bitey on our way to my place.” The older man explained.
“Oh.” This seemed to calm Al’s friend a bit.
Al wanted to talk to Francis before he left with Doc. He wanted to tell him he would go and make sure Eve and his two sons, Marco and Loren were okay.
“Francis, you stay with Doc out there. When you get to his place stay inside. I will bring Eve and your boys to my place to be with Mae. They can visit for a while until you feel better.”
Francis nodded slightly at Al. The two had known each other and been friends since they were both very young. Al was actually a few months younger than his friend. In all those years he had never known Francis to show fear. Not even when they were out on a job and bullets were whizzing past their heads. Francis’ eyes were terrified at that moment.
“Al, promise me you will take care of my family. Take Eve and my boys to Chicago with you and Mae.” Francis pleaded.
“Look now. Don’t you be talking like that. You are gonna come take care of ‘em as soon as you feel up to it. You just need a couple days rest. Then if I decide to go to Chicago, we can all go together."
At that second an anguished howl came from the store room. Both men quickly looked in that direction. Martha crashed through the flimsy wooden door and was running toward Doc. He moved out of the way at the last second and she tripped over Arnie who still lay on the floor.
This did not deter Martha. She just leaned over the man and started eating his face. Al wanted to look away but found himself inexplicably unable to stop watching the carnage.
The old man that had attacked and killed Martha began howling too. He was wiggling and trying very hard to get loose. Jack and Doc had done a good job tying him up though and he remained where he was.
Al’s attention was still focused on the grizzly scene in front of him. He watched in disgusted amazement as Martha plucked Arnie’s eye from its socket and popped it into her mouth just before Doc raised his pistol and fired two rounds into her chest. Those shots should have killed her but did not phase her in the least. She instead turned to Doc and rose to her feet. She was running toward him screeching. Doc raised his pistol once more and put a bullet in her head. This stopped her and she fell to the floor.
“I got a bad feeling you may be wrong, Al.” Francis whispered.