The Anderson Tapes (14 page)

PATRICK: I swear to God, Papa, I never. If you say it’s okay, it’s okay.

PAPA: Little Pat, you will be don soon enough. Soon enough. A year.

Two at the most.

PATRICK: Papa, Papa … you’ll outlive us all.

PAPA: Two years at the most. Probably one. But if you are to be don you must learn to think …
think
. Not only must you think should we do this thing, can we profit from this thing, but also, what are the consequences of this thing? What will result from this thing a year, five years, ten years from now? Most men—even big executives in the best American companies—gather all the facts and make a decision. But they fail to consider the consequences of their decision. The long-term consequences. Do you understand me?

PATRICK: I think so, Papa.

PAPA: Suppose there is a man we must put down. We consider what he has done and what a danger he represents to us. On the basis of these facts, we say he must be put down. But we must also consider the consequences of his death. Does he have relatives who will be embittered? Will the blues get upset? What will the papers say? Is there a young, smart, ambitious politician who will take this man’s death and get elected on it? You understand? It is not enough to consider the immediate facts. You must also project your mind and consider the future. In the long run, will it help us or hurt us?

PATRICK: Now I understand, Papa. But what has that to do with Anderson’s hustle?

PAPA: Remember about four years ago in Buffalo, we… .

[Lapse of four minutes nine seconds.]

PAPA: So what did that teach us? The advantage of fear. We first create and then maintain an atmosphere of fear. Why do you think we have been so successful in our legitimate dealings? In real estate and garbage collection and banks and linen service?

Because our rates are lower? Ah, you know our rates are higher.

Higher! But they fear us. And because of their fear, we do good business. The steel fist in the velvet glove. But if this is to continue, if our legitimate enterprises are to flourish, we must maintain our reputation. We must let businessmen know who we are, of what we are capable. Not frequently, but occasionally, choosing incidents that we know will not be lost on them, we must let the public know that beneath that soft velvet glove is bright, shining steel. Only then will they fear us, and our legitimate enterprises will continue to grow.

PATRICK: And you want to use Anderson’s campaign as an example?

You feel it will end in failure, but you want the newspapers to play it up as ours? You want people hurt and people killed? You want businessmen who read about it in the papers to shiver, and then call us and say yes, they’ll take another million yards of our rayons or use our trucking firms or our insurance business?

PAPA: Yes. That is exactly what I want.

PATRICK: Is that why you okayed Al Petty’s job two years ago when… .

[Lapse of forty-seven seconds.]

PAPA: Of course. I knew he could never succeed. But it made headlines all over the country, and the men arrested were linked to us. Three people, one a child, were killed on that job, and our collections took a five point two percent jump in the following six months. Fear. Let others—the English and the Americans—use persuasion and business pressure. We use fear. Because we know it always works.

PATRICK: But Anderson, he’s not… .

PAPA: I know he is not linked closely with us. So we must put a man in who is. Toast came to visit me yesterday.

PATRICK: Toast? I didn’t know he was in town. Why didn’t he call me?

PAPA: He asked me to apologize to you. He was between flights.

He just had time for a quick trip out here by car, and then on to Palm Beach.

PATRICK: How old was she this time?

PAPA: About fifteen. A real beauty. Long blond hair. And blind.

PATRICK: Blind? That’s good—for her sake.

PAPA: Yes. But Toast has a problem. Perhaps we can solve it for him with this Anderson thing.

PATRICK: What is the problem?

PAPA: Toast has a man—Vincent Parelli. You know him? They call him Socks.

PATRICK: That idiot? I’ve read about him.

PAPA: Yes. Parelli has gone crazy. He fights people. He runs them down in his car. He shoots them. He just doesn’t care. He is a very great embarrassment to Toast.

PATRICK: I can imagine.

PAPA: Parelli is very closely linked with us, very closely. Toast wants to get him out. You understand?

PATRICK: Yes.

PAPA: But Parelli is not that easy. He has some muscle of his own.

They are all crazy … crazy. Al Capones. Throwbacks. They cannot think. Toast asked if there is anything I can do.

PATRICK: So …?

PAPA: I owe a favor to Toast. You remember last year he got Paolo’s nephew into the university after the boy had been turned down all over? So here is what we do… . I will tell Toast to send Parelli in from Detroit to be our man on the Anderson campaign. Toast will tell Parelli that we have definite evidence of at least a million dollars’ worth of jewelry in the house. Otherwise Parelli would laugh at us. Toast will tell him we want a good, trustworthy man of our own on the scene to make sure there is no chance of a cross.

This Parelli is gun-happy. He will probably blast. At the same time, you tell Anderson that we approve his plan providing he carries a piece and, at the end of the action, he puts Parelli down. That is our price for financing his hustle.

[Lapse of eleven seconds.]

PATRICK: Papa, I don’t think Anderson will go for it.

PAPA: I think he will. I know these amateurs. Always the big chance, the big hit, and then retirement to South America or the French Riviera for the rest of their lives. They think crime is one big lottery. They don’t know what hard work it is … hard, grinding work, year after year. No big hits, no big chances. But a job—just like any other. Maybe the profits are larger, but so are the risks.

Anderson will stall a while, but then he will go for it. He will put Parelli down. Anderson has the blood and the pride to keep a bargain. I believe the whole thing will be a madness, with innocent people hurt and killed, and Vincent Parelli, who is so closely linked with us, found dead at the scene of the crime.

PATRICK: And you think that will help us, Papa?

PAPA: It will be in headlines all over the country and, eventually, it will help us.

PATRICK: What if the campaign comes off?

PAPA: So much the better. Parelli will no longer be a nuisance to Toast, we will get credit for the grab, and we will also profit. And maybe Anderson will end up in Mexico after all. Patrick, phone me every day and tell me how this is coming. I am very interested. Explain to the Doctor only as much as he needs to know. You understand?

PATRICK: Yes, Papa.

PAPA: I will take care of Toast, and Toast will make certain that Parelli is here when needed. Do you have any questions?

PATRICK: No, Papa. I know what must be done.

PAPA: You are a good boy, Patrick … a good boy.

On 12 July, 1968, at 2:06 P.M., a meeting took place between John Anderson and Patrick Angelo in the dispatcher’s office of the Jiffy Trucking & Hauling Co., 11098 Tenth Avenue, New York, New York.

This company was a subsidiary of the Thomas Jefferson Trading Corp., of which Patrick Angelo was an officer (secretary-treasurer) of record. The premises were under surveillance by the Bureau of Customs, pursuant to Federal Court Order MFC-#189-605HG, on suspicion that they were being used as a drop for smuggled merchandise. The following is tape USBC-1089756738-B2.

ANDERSON: Well?

ANGELO: It looks good. Papa okayed it.

[Lapse of four seconds.]

ANDERSON [sighing]: Jesus.

ANGELO: But you’ve got to do something for us.

[Lapse of six seconds.]

ANDERSON: What?

ANGELO: We’ve got to put our own man in. You know, that’s SOP—

Standard Operating Procedure.

ANDERSON: I know. I figured that. Who?

ANGELO: A man from Detroit. Vincent Parelli. They call him Socks.

You know him?

ANDERSON: No.

ANGELO: You heard about him?

ANDERSON: No.

ANGELO: A good man. Experienced. He’s no punk. But you’ll be the boss. That’s understood. He’ll be told he takes orders from you.

ANDERSON: All right. That sounds all right. What else?

ANGELO: You got a brain.

ANDERSON: What else do I got to do?

ANGELO: We want you to cut down on him.

[Lapse of five seconds.]

ANDERSON: What?

ANGELO: Put him down. After it’s all over. When you’re ready to leave. You put him down.

[Lapse of eleven seconds.]

ANGELO: You understand?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: You knew you’d have to carry a barker on this job?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: So … you cut this Parelli down. Just before you take off.

ANDERSON: You want me to kill him.

[Lapse of seven seconds.]

ANGELO: Yes.

ANDERSON: Why?

ANGELO: You don’t have to know that. It’s got nothing to do with you, nothing to do with this hustle. We want him out—that’s all. You get him out. That’s our price.

[Lapse of sixteen seconds.]

ANGELO: Well?

ANDERSON: You want me to answer now?

ANGELO: No. Take a day or two. We’ll be in touch. If it’s no, then no hard feelings and we’ll forget the whole thing. If it’s yes, the Doctor will get the scratch to you and we’ll start the operations plan. We can get you the schedules of the beat fuzz and the sector cars.

But it’s up to you. It’s your decision.

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: You know exactly what you must do? There’s no misunderstanding? I’ve made it plain? In things like this, it’s best to make absolutely certain everyone knows what’s going to happen.

ANDERSON: I know what’s going to happen.

ANGELO: Good. You think about it.

ANDERSON: All right. I’ll think about it.

In addition to the microphone transmitter implanted at the home of Dominick Angelo, 67825 Flint Road, Deal, New Jersey, a telephone tap had been installed by the Federal Bureau of Narcotics. This portion of tape FBNDA-10935 is dated 12 July, 1968. The time: 2:48 P.M.

ANGELO: He was shook, Papa … really spooked. I think you were right. I think he’ll go for it. Now about this thing with Benefici in Hackensack … I think we should… .

Tape SEC-13JUL68-IM-4:24PM-149H. This was a Saturday.

INGRID: So … how is it you are here at this hour? You are not working?

ANDERSON: No. I’m off this weekend. I get every other weekend off.

INGRID: You should have called first. I might have been busy.

ANDERSON: Are you busy?

INGRID: No. I have been doing some mending. You would like a drink?

ANDERSON: I brought some Berliner Weisse and raspberry syrup.

INGRID: You darling! How wonderful! You remembered!

ANDERSON: You have big glasses?

INGRID: I will serve it in big brandy snifters I have. How wonderful!

You remembered!

[Lapse of two minutes eighteen seconds.]

INGRID: Here you are. Such a beautiful color.
Prosit
.

ANDERSON:
Prosit.

[Lapse of fourteen seconds.]

INGRID: Ah. So good, so good. Tell me, Duke—how are things with you?

ANDERSON: All right.

INGRID: That meet you had, the last time I spoke to you … that turned out well?

ANDERSON: Yes … sort of.

INGRID: You are troubled,
Schatzie?
That is why you came? You want to get out?

ANDERSON: No. But I got to talk. I don’t mean that the way it sounds.

I got to talk to
you
. You’re the smartest one I know. I want your opinion. Your advice.

INGRID: This is a job?

ANDERSON: Yes.

INGRID: I don’t want to know about it.

ANDERSON: Please. I don’t say please very often. I’m saying please to you.

[Lapse of thirteen seconds.]

INGRID: You know, Duke, I have a feeling about you. A very bad feeling.

ANDERSON: What is that?

INGRID: I have this feeling that through you I will meet my death. Just by knowing you and talking to you, I will die before my time.

ANDERSON: Does that scare you?

INGRID: No.

ANDERSON: No. Nothing scares you. Does it make you sad?

INGRID: Perhaps.

ANDERSON: Do you want me to leave?

[Lapse of twenty-two seconds.]

INGRID: What do you want to tell me? Why is this thing so important you need my advice?

ANDERSON: I have this hustle planned. It’s a good one. If I hit, it means a lot of money. A lot of money. If it works out, I can go to Mexico, South America, Europe—anywhere. And live for the rest of my life. I mean,
live
. I would ask you to come with me. But don’t think about that. Don’t let that influence what you tell me.

INGRID: I won’t,
Schatzie
. I have heard that before.

ANDERSON: I know, I know. But for this hustle I need money, ready money. To pay people and plan things. You understand?

INGRID: Yes. You want money from me?

ANDERSON: No, I don’t want any money from you.

INGRID: Then the people you will get money from, the people whose cooperation you need—they want something …
nein?

ANDERSON: You’re so goddamned smart it scares me.

INGRID: Think of what my life has been. What do they want?

ANDERSON: I have a staff. Five men I can get. But these money people must put their own man in. Okay. This is understandable.

I’m a freelance. It happens all the time with freelancers. You get permission to operate but they must put their own man in to make sure there’s no cross, so they know definitely what the take is.

You understand?

INGRID: Of course. So?

ANDERSON: They want to bring a man in from Detroit. I’ve never met him. I’ve never heard of him. They tell me he’s a pro. They tell me he will take orders from me. I will be the boss of this campaign.

INGRID: So?