CHAPTER 11
“Where were you born?” the young female customs officer asked, glaring suspiciously at Servito, who was perched languorously behind the opened window of Allison’s black Lincoln.
“Toronto,” Servito lied, calmly returning her stare. It was his first return to the United States since his escape in July of 1963, and if his identity were discovered, his next home would be a U.S. military prison.
“Where are you going?’ she asked.
“We have a business meeting in Buffalo. We’ll be back here in two or three hours,” Allison said.
“Have a nice day,” the officer said, and then directed her stare to the car behind Allison’s.
The head office of Empire State Oil was located in the recreation room of Bob Bushing’s modest, four bedroom home in Tonawanda, a suburb of Buffalo. Servito and Allison were met at the front door by Bushing’s wife, a short, well-painted brunette adorned with too much jewelry. “Jerry!” she declared, her eyes widening with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I gotta see Bob, Theresa. It’s real important.”
Theresa ushered Servito and Allison into the house and down a flight of stairs to a tacky, 1950s style recreation room. Bushing was pushing papers at a large and very cluttered metal desk. A thin weasel of a man with a narrow black mustache, he looked like he belonged at a racetrack, making book. He directed an angry glare at Allison. “What the hell is this, Jerry? I told you I didn’t want to see you here. Ever.”
Allison trembled as he attempted to explain. “I… this is Jim Servito… ? He’s here because—”
“Jerry’s here because I brought him here,” Servito interrupted.
“Then why are you here?” Bushing asked.
Servito marched toward Bushing and perched on the corner of his desk. He leaned close to Bushing’s face. “We have a new agenda for you, Bob.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“We’re going to restructure your company, that’s what I’m talking about.” Jim grinned nastily. “From now on, Jerry and I are going to own a slice of the gasoline you’ve been selling to his customers. Empire State will continue to purchase it, but it’ll no longer be just your company. You’re going to sell a controlling interest to us. When that’s done, the company will pay you a commission for continuing as president. I’ll be the chairman of the board.”
Bushing stood and cocked his right arm. Just when Bushing stepped forward, Jim jerked his head backward so Bushing’s fist just missed his chin. Then he dodged up under the unbalanced manager and grabbed his right wrist, twisting it until Bushing leaned forward and then wrapping it behind the man’s own back. “Don’t, Bob. There are three of us against little old you.”
“There’s only two,” Bushing retorted, panting heavily. “And Allison can’t punch his way out of a bottle.”
Servito let go of Bushing’s arm and removed his revolver as the man spun back around. “This is number three,” he said, smirking as he cocked the hammer. “Now sit down and listen.”
Bushing’s face had flushed to crimson. “I don’t give shit if you have a gun. Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my house and telling me who’s going to do what?”
“I’ll tell you who I am, Bob. I’m your new boss. The sooner you accept that fact, the happier we’re all going to be.”
“You can take your new agenda and shove it where the sun don’t shine!” Bushing shouted, his face mean and glowing red. “You can’t take over my company unless I want to sell, and I’m here to tell you I don’t.”
Servito smiled and winked. “You’re not going to like the alternative, Bob…” Something in Servito’s face made Bob blanch. “You’ve been enjoying a disproportionate share of the action for too long, and that’s going to change whether you like it or not. Jerry’s given me a complete and thorough description of how you do business and how you forget to pay gasoline taxes. Now, if you don’t want me to have a nice chat with the Canadian and the U.S. feds, then maybe you’ll do what I’m telling you to do, hm?” Jim stepped forward and smacked him lightly on the jowl. “You’ll be hearing from me real soon… Have a nice day.”
A long, tense silence continued until the Lincoln crossed the Peace Bridge and entered Fort Erie.
Then, and only then, did Allison give a deep sigh. “You really did it now, kid.”
“Did what?”
“Bushing’s mad as hell. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever do business with us.”
Servito bared his teeth. “Trust me, Jerry. He will.”
Two miles beyond the outskirts of the city, Allison turned and drove through the opened gates of a toweringly high chain-link fence. “Amerada Tank Lines” was neatly painted in large gold letters on a black sign above the gates. After parking beside a row of trucks and trailers in varying states of disrepair, Servito and Allison entered a gray building clad in corrugated metal. At a wooden counter, perched on a stool, was a young, dark haired girl wearing a breast-enhancing bra under a see-through, white silk blouse. Her long and curvaceous legs extended from a short, skin-tight, pink mini-skirt. Large sunglasses balanced on top of her hair. She peered over the top of her magazine and smacked her gum. “Hi, Jerry,” she said, stilling her jaw long enough to smile. “What’re you doing here?”
“Hi, Deb,” Allison said, returning her smile. “We’re looking for Dave. Is he here?”
“Go right in. He’s in the back office,” Deb said, pointing her thumb at the heavy metal door behind her. Her head drifted back down toward the magazine.
Lasker was seated at his desk, clamping a telephone receiver tightly to his ear with his shoulder as he leaned back. His feet were propped up on the desk in front of him. Below his close-cut blond hair was a badly sunburned face. He wore green trousers and a white shirt with his name printed just above his heart. He quickly cupped his right hand over the mouth piece when he saw Allison. “Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said, and then continued his conversation.
Servito extended one last lecherous glance at Deb’s legs as he closed the metal door. He and Allison sat on metal folding chairs.
Lasker ended his telephone conversation and greeted Allison with an outstretched right arm. “Good to see you again, Jerry. What can I do for you?”
“I have someone I want you to meet, Dave.” Allison gave a squeamish smile. “This is Jim Servito. He’s one of my biggest customers in Toronto… And he wanted to meet with you to discuss some business.”
Servito stood and shook Lasker’s hand, then twisted slightly to sit on Lasker’s desk. “I’d like to buy Amerada Tank Lines, Dave. How much do you want for it?”
Lasker’s mouth dropped open in that unguarded moment. “Amerada’s not for sale, sir… and if it was, my price would be high.”
“How high is high?” Servito asked.
“Probably more than you could afford.”
“I’ll give you a hundred thousand.”
Lasker marched to his metal door and opened it. “You’re wasting my time, Mr. Servito. I’d like you to leave.”
Allison hurried from the office, his mouth twisted in downcast horror.
Servito stood and approached Lasker, his sneer displaying absolute contempt. “You’re not going to like the alternative, Dave. I know all about the tax free gasoline you’ve been hauling across the Peace Bridge. So, if you want to stay the hell out of prison, then I suggest you cooperate, real soon. You’ll be hearing from me shortly… have a nice day.” He turned and followed Allison.
Allison turned to face Servito the second he entered the car. “Jesus, Jim, now you’ve really done it. I’m out of business! Lasker won’t give me the time of day after that little song and dance.”
Servito rolled his eyes and pointed his palms skyward. “Come on, Jerry. Relax. You’re not even close to being out of business. By the time Lasker thinks about what I just told him, he’ll give us a hell of lot more than the time of day.”
“What did you just tell him?”
Servito bared his teeth and pounded his fist on Allison’s dashboard. “Same fucking thing I told Bushing! I just made some attitude adjustments, Jerry, baby. We’ll see who’s prepared to give you the time of day. When you have a man by the balls, his heart and mind will follow.”
At a hastily convened meeting with Bob Bushing and Dave Lasker at Lasker’s Fort Erie office the following week, Servito completed a deal to purchase a fifty-one percent interest in both Empire State Oil and Amerada Tank Lines. The purchases were uncontested and based upon earn-out formulas designed by Servito. They allowed Bushing and Lasker to continue as presidents and chief operating officers of their respective companies, while Servito became chairman of the board. Allison was appointed vice president of marketing and received a hefty salary increase.
With his audacious acquisition of Amerada Tank Lines and Empire State Oil, Servito had established a formidable business infrastructure that would launch him on a meteoric criminal career path. His enterprise was poised to grow, and the fuel for its growth would be Servito’s insatiable greed, his irrepressible ego, and—last but not least—inflation.