Sherman - Animal: The Bloody Rise and Fall of the Mobs Most Feared Assassin

Joseph Barboza is the most dangerous individual known

FBI DIRECTOR J. EDGAR HOOVER, 1965

If Joe Barboza felt out of place, he certainly didnt show it. He was the lone Portuguese mobster swimming with a school of Sicilian sharks in the dark, dangerous water that was the Ebb Tide Lounge. It was their hangout after allnot his. Barbozas dream was to become the first non-Italian inducted into La Cosa Nostra, but to the gathered Mafiosi, Barboza was not one of them and never would be. They called him the nigger behind his back, and to them he was nothing more than a blunt instrument used to erase their enemies.

Joe Barboza knew exactly what he wasthe meanest, deadliest man in the New England mob. Tonight hed prove it to these so-called men of respect. Fats Domino had just completed his second set of the night. A waitress was wiping the big mans sweat off the piano as Fats was led upstairs for a rigged game of dice. Poor Fatshe was one hell of an entertainer but he was also a degenerate gambler. He played the Ebb Tide a few times a year, earning twelve grand a week. Most times though, Fats would hit the road owing the house more money than he had earned.

The lounge was relatively quiet now, just a few wiseguys huddled around the bar discussing past and future scores in hushed tones. Joe Barboza sat at a table, with his broad shoulders pressed against a wall and his eyes on the front door. The Ebb Tide was intentionally built with a narrow entrance to block armed men from bursting through the front door all at once. Still, Barboza had plenty of enemies, and the only way to stay alive in this game was to plan for the unexpected. He sipped at his glass of Crown Royale while regaling a buddy with stories from his brief but colorful career as a prize fighter. His deep, baritone voice rose above the other conversations around him, much to the annoyance of one respected Mafiosi.

Hey, quiet down over there, the gangster shouted in Joes direction.

Barboza paid little attention and kept talking, so the mobster repeated the order.

Joe raised his thick eyebrows and smiled at his buddy as he slipped out of his chair and made his way toward the man, who was leaning against the bar. Barboza moved through the club slowly, his muscled shoulders carving through the crowd like a sharp blade. All eyes were on him now. He savored the attention. It was the same feeling he got each time he had entered the ring, only the spectators in this crowd were all like himdangerous men. He approached the Mafiosi and offered a crooked smile followed by an open-handed slap across the face. The sheer sound of the impactflesh on fleshechoed through the bar. The Mafiosi staggered back and tried to brace himself for another blow. Barboza kept his own dark eyes on the gangster. Your move, he muttered.