1 Paulie Gatto hated quickie jobs, especially when they involved violence. He

liked to plan things ahead. And something like tonight, even though it was punk

stuff, could turn into serious business if somebody made a mistake. Now, sipping

his beer, he glanced around, checking how the two young punks were making out

with the two little tramps at the bar.

2 Paulie Gatto knew everything there was to know about those two punks. Their

names were Jerry Wagner and Kevin Moonan. They were both about twenty

years old, good-looking, brown-haired, tall, well-built. Both were due to go back

to college out of town in two weeks, both had fathers with political influence and

this, with their college student classification, had so far kept them out of the draft.

They were both also under suspended sentences for assaulting the daughter of

Amerigo Bonasera. The lousy bastards, Paulie Gatto thought. Draft dodging,

violating their probation by drinking in a bar after midnight, chasing floozies.

Young punks. Paulie Gatto had been deferred from the draft himself because his

doctor had furnished the draft board with documents showing that this patient,

male, white, aged twenty-six, unmarried, had received electrical shock treatments

for a mental condition. All false of course, but Paulie Gatto felt that he had earned

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his draft exemption. It had been arranged by Clemenza after Gatto had "made his

bones" in the family business.

3 It was Clemenza who had told him that this job must be rushed through, before

the boys went to college. Why the hell did it have to be done in New York, Gatto

wondered. Clemenza was always giving extra orders instead of just giving out the

job. Now if those two little tramps walked out with the punks it would be another

night wasted.

4 He could hear one of the girls laughing and saying, "Are you crazy, Jerry? I'm

not going in any car with you. I don't want to wind up in the hospital like that

other poor girl." Her voice was spitefully rich with satisfaction. That was enough

for Gatto. He finished up his beer and walked out into the dark street. Perfect. It

was after midnight. There was only one other bar that showed light. The rest of

the stores were closed. The precinct patrol car had been taken care of by

Clemenza. They wouldn't be around that way until they got a radio call and then

they'd come slow.

5 He leaned against the four-door Chevy sedan. In the back seat two men were

sitting, almost invisible, although they were very big men. Paulie said, "Take them

when they come out."

6 He still thought it had all been set up too fast. Clemenza had given him copies

of the police mug shots of the two punks, the dope on where the punks went

drinking every night to pick up bar girls. Paulie had recruited two of the strong-

arms in the family and fingered the punks for them. He had also given them their

Instructions. No blows on the top or the back of the head, there was to be no

accidental fatality. Other than that they could go as far as they liked. He had given

them only one warning: "If those punks get out of the hospital in less than a

month, you guys go back to driving trucks."