The Good Guys

The Good Guys

Bill Bonanno, Joe Pistone, David Fisher

Language: English

Pages: 368

ISBN: 0446529656

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

* Chain-smoking Mickey Fists isn't sure if he's an "addict" or an "attic." * The Freemont Avenue Social Club is on Elizabeth Street in Little Italy. So are the best wiretaps FBI money can buy. * Skinny Al weighed 320 pounds and lived life to the fullest...until someone burned out his eardrums and shot his body full of holes. Hundreds of writers have tried to capture life inside the mob, but no one has ever had the inside access to write a book like this one. Drawing on the firsthand experience of former undercover FBI agent Joe Pistone-aka Donnie Brasco-as well as former Mafia prince Bill Bonanno, The Good Guys straddles both sides of the law, races relentlessly through the New York City underworld, and crackles with characters and moments so vivid they will never let you go. At Columbia University, a professor of Russian literature has gone missing. A few miles and light-years away, Little Eddie LaRocca and Bobby San Filippo are on the move-dealing in everything from hot-sheet hotels to bootleg Fuji film. When the hoods are sent to find the professor, they find out that someone else is looking, too. Beautiful FBI agent Laura Russo is making her preppy partner's head spin. She knows the missing man is important-and somehow connected to a recent mob hit. While Eddie and Bobby are fighting their way through ugly deeds and pretty coeds, these feds will cook up some business of their own, turning a little disagreement among criminals into an all-out war... Capturing the organized crime world of the go-go '80s, Pistone and Bonanno's one-of-a-kind collaboration is bad to the bone-and as marvelously authentic as it gets.




















nothing happens to you.” He tried to find something promising to say but could think of absolutely nothing. Finally the professor said something to himself in Russian. When Russo asked him what it was, he smiled weakly and said with resignation, “It’s just an old prayer peasants used to say at the beginning of winter.” An hour later O’Brien and Russo were sitting with Slattery in his office. Another team of agents had escorted Peter Gradinsky to a safe house, one of several apartments the

explained to his mother. Bringing America together. Healing the societal wounds. He had used every cliché to explain it, but the bottom-line truth was that it seemed like it might be important—as well as interesting and fun. His father had provided him with financial security, which he interpreted to mean that his father had not wanted him tied to a desk doing a job he hated, the position in which he had found himself. Maybe more important than anything else, each day would be different. So when

was carefully professional. When you’d go through Quantico? Who were your instructors? Where’d you go from there? You know so-and-so? Russo was surprised how comfortable she was with him. If he was coming on to her, she decided, he was amazingly good at hiding it. She tried to identify the strange feeling in her chest. It took a while, but finally she realized that it wasn’t what she was feeling, but rather what she wasn’t feeling. And that was anxiety. Connor wasn’t treating her like this was a

thought. “Let me ask you this. Why didn’t you call information? We’re listed.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Sure, come on in.” He led them into the office and closed the door. The room was obviously soundproof, as the thunderous music was reduced to a distant thump. There was a single three-line phone sitting on a coffee-cup-stained glass-top desk. While Russo checked the phone numbers, O’Brien surveyed the room. In addition to the desk, the office contained a high-back leather executive

Neither O’Brien nor Russo made a sound. Within seconds Ike leaped into the silence. “He was around Monday night with a few of his people. They come in the office, I go out on the floor. If somebody made a phone call, it was one of them.” He finally took the cold stub out of his mouth and squashed it into an Off Limitsashtray. “Anything else?” “No,” Russo told him, “I think that’s it.” She looked at O’Brien. “You?” He shook his head. “Nothing.” As they stood up, Russo promised, “We got your

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