Following the turn of the century, New York City’s streets cleaned up a lot. But back in the 70s, it was a halcyon for the Italian Mafia to run the racketeering world.

The year was 1977. The underground crime world was still in turmoil following the death of Carlo Gambino, head of the Gambino famiglia. Violence was on the rise, and the crime was getting worse. Not a single place was safe—not a single borough.

It was mid-afternoon, and you walked into a coffee shop—Caffè Reggio in the heart of Greenwich Village. Instantly, the atmosphere grew tense. Four men were in the corner of the shop, each with little cups of espresso in their hands.

Three of them looked up at you sharply, their dark eyes scrutinizing you with intensity. The fourth, in a finer suit than the others, didn’t bat an eye. He sipped from his tiny cup. “Gentlemen, let’s focus,” he said in a thick Italian-American accent. He just barely looked up at you, but then he did a double take.