. Tom looking askance at Tony. Tony looking out the window.
"D’Amato's here," Tom said, changing the subject. "He checked in Friday under an assumed name. He's with some guys called Blasi and Angie. "
"Angie? Angie Genarro?" Tony's voice quickened with interest.
Tom nodded.
"Something’s up. He's muscle. He's D’Amato's enforcer, now that D’Amato pretends he's legit."
Tom looked surprised. "Muscle? That little twerp?"
"Don't kid yourself, son. He'll whack you and never blink an eye. Go right out afterwards to his baby's christening. I bet he's hit twenty guys. He's the best in Chicago."
"I don't believe it! Do you know him? He does wear a gun."
"Paunchy little guy, about forty four? Looks like an accountant?"
"Yeah."
"Ice. Quick, lethal. It ain't like it is in the movies. He may not look mean, but he's deadly. You can't read him. He moves quick, and it's over before they know what hit them. Then he blends into the crowd. He's virtually unidentifiable. They say sometimes he sits down after a hit and watches the crowd. Nobody even notices him. Ice."
Tom shook his head. Ice? The Vice President of Personnel? He stared at Tony. Tom sighed, knowing he was out of his league.