Caballeros,â Mr. Trafficante said. âIt has your fingerprints all over it.â
Mr. Thomassen wasnât drinking his coffee anymore. Instead he had both hands on the table, more tense than Iâd ever seen him.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â he said. âAnd more than that, I donât know why youâre concerned. Based off what youâve told me, theyâre only targeting the Cosa Nostra. Which, last time I checked, didnât include the Trafficante family.â
Mr. Trafficante popped his knuckles as I took my seat back next to Mr. Thomassen.
âNo,â he said, and shot me a look. âBut it does include the Bonannos and the Giancanas, and theyâve started to complain.â
âTo you?â Mr. Thomassen said. âWhy would they come to you?â
âBecause, you idiot, they recognize a Cuban operation when they see one.â He leaned in over the table. âAnd I recognize one of yours when I see it, too.â
I looked at Mr. Thomassen to see if he was scared. Iâd be scared, that was for darn sure. But he didnât look an ounce nervous at all. Instead he reached for his coffee cup.
âWould one of your goons mind topping me off with some decaf?â he asked.
Mr. Trafficante almost spit fire out as he nodded to one of his fellas.
âNow,â Mr. Thomassen said, âyouâve had your chance to talk to me. Let me talk to you.â
Mr. Trafficante sat back in his seat and quieted down a bit. As soon as they brought Mr. Thomassen his coffee, he added a little cream and sugar and took a sip.
âI already knew about the Three Caballeros,â he said. âIâm not saying that Iâm one of them, or that Iâm affiliated with them, but I know about them. And I can tell you right now that they arenât interested in you.â
âI wasnât concerned aboutââ Mr. Trafficante started.
âLet me finish.â Mr. Thomassen put his cup down and his face changed and even I got a little scared of him all of a sudden. âThey arenât interested in the Trafficantes at the moment. From what I hear, these days you are as much a patriot as I am.â
Mr. Trafficante studied his face for a second and nodded.
âSo this is about patriotism for you?â
âFor the Three Caballeros, from what I understand, yes,â Mr. Thomassen said. âItâs about keeping this nation from becoming the cesspool Havana was. Keeping the hands of the Cosa Nostra from holding power in the government. Because we saw what happened in Havana once people got sick of you and your family. They brought in the Commies to clip your wings.â
Mr. Trafficante reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. He lit it and took a couple of puffs while Mr. Thomassen sipped his coffee. I didnât much know what to do, so I started using the spoons as drumsticks and played a beat on the table. Mr. Thomassen snatched them out of my hand real quick.
âSo youâre saying I should stay out of it?â Mr. Trafficante finally said.
âNo, Iâm saying you should get out of it.â
âBut Iâm not in it. Like you said, my wings are clipped. The Three Caballeros havenât got any beef with me, remember?â
âNot yet,â Mr. Thomassen said. âBut thereâs a matter of a price tag Iâve been hearing about.â
Mr. Trafficanteâs eye started twitching again. He slammed his hand on the table.
âThat doesnât have anything to do with you. Or with the Three Caballeros.â
âOh, but it does. Because it stinks of the old days in Havana, of exactly what theyâre trying to prevent.â
âThatâs because it came out of the old days in Havana.â
âThen get rid of it,â Mr. Thomassen said. âLeave it back there.â
âI canât,â Mr. Trafficante said. âI wonât. Some things you