"Why is that, Mr Sutter?"

"Because you think you're going to-die."

"That does sound like fun."

"But, of course, the objective is not to die. So you put out your trysails and see if you can run before the wind to safety. Or maybe you lower all your sails, put the engine on full power, and head into the wind. There are other times when you might want to ride to a sea anchor. You have to make intelligent decisions. Not like with desk work where it really doesn't matter." He nodded. "About once a year I have to make a decision about pulling my gun. So I can appreciate what you're saying."

"Good." Having gotten the 'my balls are as big as your balls' stuff out of the way, I went below and poured two mugs of coffee from my thermos and brought them up. "Here." Thanks."

I stood at the helm in my faded jeans and T-shirt, one hand resting on the wheel, the other holding my mug. I really looked good. I regarded Mr Mancuso with his silly outfit and his pale skin, sitting on a cushioned locker. I said to him, "Did you say you wanted to speak to me about something?" He seemed to be contemplating what it was he'd wanted to say, as if perhaps it was no longer relevant. Finally, he said, "Mr Sutter, I have been an FBI agent for nearly twenty years."

"It must be interesting."

"Yes. Most of that time has been spent in various organized-crime task forces.

The Mafia is my special area of concern."

"Did you want sugar with that? I have no milk."

"No, thanks. So, I've seen a lot of what life is like in the underworld, Mr Sutter, and there is nothing romantic about it."

"Who ever said there was?"

"They hurt people, Mr Sutter. They sell drugs to children, force young girls into prostitution, extort money from honest businessmen. They engage in loan-sharking activities and beat people who can't make their payments. They corrupt unions and politicians -"

"I'm not sure who corrupts whom in that case."

"They murder people -"

"They murder other types of scum. They do not murder cops, businessmen, judges, or people like you or me, Mr Mancuso. I hear what you're saying, but the average citizen is more concerned with, and outraged by, random street violence, rapists, muggers, car thieves, armed robbers, burglars, and drug-crazed maniacs running around. I personally know people whose lives have been touched by those sorts of criminals, and so do you. I don't know anyone personally who has been a victim of the Mafia. Capisce?"

He smiled at that word, then nodded in agreement. "Yes, I understand that, Mr Sutter. But admit that organized crime and racketeering are hurting the entire nation in insidious ways that -" "Okay. I admit it. And I told you I'd sit on a jury in a Mafia case. That's more than a lot of citizens would do. You know why? Because they are frightened, Mr Mancuso."

"Well, there you are, Mr Sutter. People are frightened by mobsters. People -" "Well, of course they would be frightened if they had to sit on a jury. But that's a remote possibility. What people are really frightened of is walking down the street at night."

"The FBI doesn't patrol the streets, Mr Sutter. What you're talking about is another issue."

"Well, then, let's talk about the Mafia. Why would the average citizen be frightened to sit on a jury or testify in an organized-crime case? I'll tell you why; because you are not doing your job."

For the first lime, Mr Mancuso seemed annoyed with me. In truth, he had shown a good deal of patience on this occasion and the last, but I could see I'd gotten to him. Actually, I was only blowing smoke at him, and I wanted him to tell me that everything was under control, that the republic was safe, and that I would be able to walk the streets of New York in a few more weeks, maybe a month. But that wasn't the case. He did, however, give me some hopeful news. He put his mug on the deck and stood. He said, "In fact, Mr Sutter, we are doing our job. In fact, sir, we are winning the war against organized crime." "Have you told the Mafia this?"

"They know it very well. Better than the American public, which is fed mostly bad news. But let me give a good-news headline: MAFIA ON THE RUN." I smiled but said nothing.

Mr Mancuso went on, "Since 1984, Mr Sutter, the federal government has obtained hundreds of convictions under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act – the RICO Act. We have seized millions of dollars in properly and cash, and we have destroyed or seriously damaged nearly all of the twenty-four organized-crime families in this country. There is only one remaining stronghold of the Mafia in America, and that is here in New York. And of New York's five traditional crime families, four have been crippled by prosecutions and by death and by early retirements. The old legendary dons are all gone now. The calibre of the remaining leadership is very low. Only one family remains strong, and only one leader commands respect."

"Who could that be?"

Mr Mancuso, having delivered himself of this satisfying monologue, smiled. "You know who."

I asked him, "What is your point?"

"Well, the point, obviously, is Frank Bellarosa and your relationship with him." "I see." Mr Mancuso had intrigued me, and it occurred to me that he could answer some questions for me, rather than vice versa. I asked him, "How rich is Mr Bellarosa?"

He thought a moment, then replied, "We estimate that his illegal empire grosses about six hundred million dollars a year -" "Six hundred million? Mamma mia, Mr Mancuso."

Mr Mancuso smiled. "Yes. But I don't know how much profit there is and how much of that he keeps personally. We do know that he is involved in fourteen legitimate businesses -" "Sixteen."

Mr Mancuso regarded me a moment, then continued, "Fourteen or more legitimate businesses, from which he showed a taxable income last year of five and a half million dollars."

"And he paid his taxes?"

"Oh, yes. Overpaid, actually. The IRS refunded him some two hundred thousand dollars. He had a serious tax problem some years back that sent him away for nineteen months. So he's very careful with his taxes on his legitimate income." Mr Mancuso added, "I would not be surprised if he asked you to do his tax work at some point."

I didn't reply, but asked, "Why do you suppose he's not satisfied with five million legitimate dollars a year?"

Mr Mancuso informed me, "There are other factors at work, Mr Sutter. Bellarosa is a unique personality. He does not make decisions the way you or I would. This man fought his way to the top of New York's largest crime family, and he killed or caused to be killed at least nine men whom he perceived to be a danger to him, or who were, in fact, a danger to him, or men who were simply in his way during his pursuit of the emperor's crown. Personalities like this exist, of course, and history is full of them. Frank Bellarosa is a power freak. The money is incidental. Do you see?"

"I understand."

"Understand, too, that he likes living on the edge. You may find this hard to believe, Mr Sutter, but in his primitive way he enjoys being the target of assassins. His enemies can pay him no higher compliment than trying to kill him. Capisce?"

I smiled involuntarily. "Capisce."

"No, you say capisco. I understand. Capisce?"

"Capisco."

"Very good. But work on your accent. I understand your wife speaks some Italian.

Maybe she can help you."

I didn't reply. In fact, neither of us spoke for a while. As the Paumanok drifted, I realized that I should, at some point, let Mr Mancuso know that I was representing the man who was the subject of our conversation. But as he hadn't asked, and since nothing of a confidential nature was being discussed yet, I let it slide. I wanted to know more about my client, and since my client wouldn't even admit that there was a Mafia, let alone that he was the emperor of it, I figured that Mr Mancuso was my best source. I asked, "How big is his empire, actually? Not money, but people."