by Dave Lacey
Chapter 30
Burt Waldron sat fidgeting at his kitchen table in the quiet of the big house. It was what he loved most about the property, its seclusion and tranquillity. They allowed him to indulge his favourite pastime, reading. Right at this moment, though, reading was the furthest thing from his mind. Barbara had called at three yesterday morning to tell him about the Kasprowicz family being killed in an explosion. At first, he had no idea what she was talking about, or why it should hold any importance for him. He didn’t recall the name, until she told him that Simon Kasprowicz was Sarah’s fiancé. Sarah Miller was Barbara’s daughter, and he really should have remembered all of this, due to the amount of trouble Barbara, and to a lesser extent Burt, had had recently because of the relationship.
The fact that Barbara was a senator and Simon Kasprowicz’s father was part of a crime syndicate caused no end of embarrassment and political grandstanding for the mother. Nothing that either Burt or Barbara had said to Sarah made any difference; the heart wants what the heart wants. Burt was having trouble recalling the name, and having trouble with a great deal just recently, because of the phone call he had had a few days ago. The call had been expected in a way – too many people knew what nobody was supposed to know – but was still shocking when it finally came. Ultimately, there was only one outcome to all of this, and that was for them to tie up the loose ends. Worry had been his closest friend since the call from the man with no name. After the call from Barbara his mind had scattered in numerous directions, with all manner of scenarios he had never imagined possible.
The loose ends were being hastily tied off, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking on his door. He didn’t blame Barb, he blamed himself; he should never have talked. She had only done what she thought was right and told her daughter. Burt hadn’t had the conversation yet with Barb, but he was going to have to have it this morning. His concern was for himself, Barbara, and now her daughter. He had to think of a way to protect them all, and he might as well have two minds working on it as opposed to just his own frazzled one. He waited until the sun had risen, beautiful and blood orange across the enormous panorama he was afforded from his kitchen window. He took his coffee and sat outside to take in its full majestic procession across the sky. Then he made the call.
“Barbara Miller speaking. Who is this please?”
“Barb, it’s me.”
“Oh hi, Burt, sorry I wasn’t expecting a call so early. Everything okay?” Concern edged into her voice now.
“Sort of, yeah, but we need to talk.”
“This sounds ominous. I’m not sure I can deal with bad news right now, Burt. Sarah is inconsolable and the press are just all over the property. Can it wait?” She sounded weary and ever so slightly fragile.
“It’s not bad in the way you might think, Barb, but it’s a conversation you and I need to have, and we may not have much time. I won’t go into it right now, not over the phone. I’d rather speak to you face to face. I’m concerned for our safety.” There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.
“Oh, I see. Or rather, I don’t see, or understand. What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s a pattern in all this, and I’m sure that had you not been so concerned for your daughter’s wellbeing you would have sniffed it out. A young man was killed a number of days ago, and since then Simon and his family have died…”
“Yes, but it’s been reported that it was linked to a rival gang. Surely that’s good enough reason for all this madness?” She seemed puzzled.
“It’d be nice to believe that, Barb, it really would. But I don’t think that’s the case.”
“What do you think it is?” Her voice had become flat.
“If you really think about it, you know exactly what this all relates to.” He allowed the silence to unfold, forcing Barbara to break it. After a moment or so, she did.
“Burt, is it The Coming, The En–”
“Not over the phone, Barb, goddamnit. We need to meet up and discuss this. It’s not a conversation we can have over the phone, do you understand?”
“Not really, this is all too much to bear.” He thought he could hear her sniffling at the other end of the line.
“Barbara Miller, you need to stiffen your resolve now, you hear? This is not a time for you become mortal, Barb, I need you to dig in.” He held his breath. Barbara took another moment to gather herself.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. When do you want to see me?”
“As soon as possible. I don’t think we should waste any time. Where are you supposed to be this morning?” She briefly ran through her itinerary.
“Okay, ditch the first two and get over here as fast as you can. I’ll be waiting.”
***
Ernestine Rook sat in the back seat of the black suburban behind the privacy glass, considering his next move. He didn’t like the direction this project was taking, and he liked even less the steps that had been deemed necessary by the man he reported to. So far, they had been able to manage the fallout out cast by the Mayer and Kasprowicz incidents. Carefully pointing the finger at a rival gang had, up until now, given them some breathing room.
If they had to eliminate Senator Miller’s daughter, well, he could not accurately gauge what would happen. The police up to this point did not know of the relationship between the Kasprowicz boy and the Miller girl, which suggested they could get away with it. A sure fire way for them to find out would be through the girl’s mother, who was also on the list, or Burt Waldron. Waldron was not on the list yet, but if the connection were made by either of these senior figures then it would only be a matter of time before he was. That would be another matter altogether, if they continued down this path; connections would be made and the news would be out before anybody could stop it.
Deep within, there was a part of him that didn’t care whether it did or not; at least the gnawing in his gut would go away. Rook had done terrible things in his past: terrible, violent acts that did not deserve forgiveness. He was old enough to know, or imagine, that at some juncture he would be expected to pay for these acts, that he would have to balance the scales. He understood why they had decided to keep the secret, he really did, but that didn’t mean that their methods were acceptable. If only Waldron had been able to keep quiet, if only his years of service and secret keeping had extended to this particular morsel… what the hell, it was too late for what if’s now.
It was the secret to end all secrets, and nobody knew how it would unfold, but one thing was for certain: it would not end well for everybody. His men didn’t know the secret they were keeping, poor fools. But they were dependable, and he knew they would do what was required. They were handpicked. Agent Robbins opened the door opposite Rook and climbed in.
“Well?” Rook asked.
“I don’t think she’s told anybody else, sir. Our friend was highly doubtful that anybody else knows, and thinks that so far we’ve contained it.” He looked convinced.
“Good. Or at least I hope it is. Where is she now?”
“She’s with her mother, the senator, at her house. The senator took a call from the major general a little while ago.” Robbins looked a little sheepish.
“Did you hear the conversation?”
“No, sir, but it would seem that Senator Miller is going over to his place soon. If you want to do this, sir, now might be convenient?”
“Would it? Would it really, Agent Robbins? Such a casual attitude toward killing somebody, don’t you think? Has a human life become so cheap now that we can’t even give it its full consideration? I’m inclined to wait to see how the next few days pan out, Agent Robbins. I’m inclined to see if the three of them can keep their mouths shut. And I worry that if we do murder the senator’s daughter, it would leave very little reason for the senator to keep quiet about this herself. Are you with me?”
“Yes, sir, I understand. But if that became the case, if the senator did decide to throw caution to the wind,
then would we not just simply remove her too? That would just leave Waldron.” The younger man seemed confused by Rook’s more complicated viewpoint.
“Major General Waldron you mean? It would, but I ask you, if we did indeed kill both mother and daughter, would that not then give the major a great incentive to reveal all. After all, what else would there be for him?”
“His children? We could always threaten him with them,” Robbins responded immediately.
“Is there no end to this, Robbins? I’ll need to give it some thought, I’m afraid. It’s rarely as simple as it appears.” He looked intently at the man sitting next to him, feeling a twinge of disgust. Some people became agents because they were bright, fleet of thought and altruistic. Others did it because they enjoyed certain aspects of the job too much. It seemed clear now that Robbins enjoyed one particular discipline more than was healthy. Or maybe he just had the guts to do what was necessary, what Rook couldn’t do. Rook wondered if he should have him removed from the operation and replaced with another agent. It certainly warranted further thought. He himself had joined the agency because he wanted to serve his country, but also because he had a deep seated desire for excitement.
Rook believed he had remained fairly true to his nature, regardless of what life had thrown at him. He therefore found it unfathomable that others chose to embrace the dark recesses of their souls. To talk of killing a mother and daughter so easily was distasteful; to then compound it by talking of threatening one of the most distinguished soldiers the country had produced with the murder of his children was sickening. His decision was made: he would have Robbins dropped from the team. It may indeed be necessary to enact the steps they had discussed, but it would be a last resort, and it would not be discussed as glibly as it had in the car with this child.
Chapter 31
Moretti and his partner, Leshaun Jackson, had spent most of the morning pounding the streets in search of friends and associates of the Kasprowicz family. It was relentlessly futile work, and almost everywhere they went they were met with stone cold silence. This was the ridiculous world of organised crime, where silence is considered loyal, regardless of the fact that you may or may not be trying to help. So far, they had turned up nothing. The only thing keeping Nick’s temper in check was the fact that this was not his crusade and that he knew that, somewhere, Ambrosii Ryabukha was sitting back and drinking vodka.
The ‘something else’ that had triggered in Nick’s mind since his telephone conversation with Ryabukha’s attorney still evaded him. His attempts to ignore it so that it would gradually drift to the forefront of his mind unbidden had been in vain. Leshaun had browbeaten him about their current escapade to the point where Nick was just hours from abandoning his search. The message delivered by the old man on the phone was ephemeral at best, useless at worst. ”Speak to the loved ones,” like who?
In addition to the family perishing, all of their possessions had been destroyed along with them, which meant that there was very little to give the detectives a clue as to what they did in their spare time, who they might have been sleeping with, etc. As a long shot, Nick had sequestered the home and mobile phone records for each member of the family. He looked forward to trawling through that pile of paperwork just as soon as he was done trudging all over the city.
“This is pointless, Nicky,” Leshaun growled beside him.
“I know, I know. Please, just a little longer? I’m trying to put off going through the phone logs for as long as possible,” Nick begged.
“If the chief finds out about this, he’s gonna kick our collective asses,” his partner said good naturedly.
“I know, but maybe this has something to do with the case?” Nick ventured.
“Cases, Nicky, remember? At the moment, those two cases have not been linked, not officially anyway. Even if they are, how does finding the ‘loved ones’ of this family have anything to do with a gang war?”
“At the moment, I really don’t know. But I don’t think Ambrosii asked me to do this just to pass on his condolences. There’s a reason, and it must have something to do with the deaths. I just wish I knew what the hell it was!”
“It’s not something we should be getting mixed up in either. I’d be an awful lot happier if you’d let somebody else run with it?”
“Why?” Nick bristled.
“Because Zef was your friend, man, and I don’t want you getting personally entangled in all this…and all what may be to come.” Leshaun looked genuinely concerned. Nick didn’t answer immediately. He was still a little angry, but he was also touched by his friend's concern. Finally he spoke.
“I know, and thanks. But I just feel at the moment this is something I have to do. You understand? I can’t just walk away from it. I know you’re not a big fan of Ambrosii…” Leshaun made as if to argue, but Nick held up a hand. “But I like him, and it seems as though he feels this is important. There is something in this. I can feel it, and I’d like to get to the bottom of it. But I completely understand if you’d rather not go through it.” His eyes searched those of his partner’s, looking for a decision.
“Okay, I most certainly cannot leave you to do this on your own, especially with the link to this other gang. What do you wanna do next?” Nick conveyed his gratitude with a squeeze of the big man’s arm.
“I need to think about it. At the moment I feel like I’m trying too hard to think about what it might be, rather than just letting it happen and seeing what’s in front of me. When I spoke to the attorney, he said something that jarred with me, but I can’t figure out what it is. It’s something significant, and I know if I can just grab hold of it, it’ll make life easier. It looks as though, right now, I’m gonna have to hit the phone records and go about this the hard way.” Nick shook his head.
Leshaun laughed. “Shit, Nicky, you think talking to these pasty white hoods is easy?”
***
Arriving back at his desk at the precinct, Moretti looked with dread at the pile of phone records that lay waiting for him. It took him back to his early days on the force, not that long ago, when he was effectively a gofer. Leshaun had offered to accompany him back to work and go through the records with him, but Nick had declined strongly and sent him home to spend some quality time with his family. He was a good guy, and Nick didn’t want to wear him down by having him buy into his obsession. And that’s what it was becoming, an obsession. Not overtly, but certainly internally he could feel it starting to occupy his thoughts more and more. So, he set himself a target. If he didn’t come up with anything after going through the phone records and two more days of treading sidewalks, he would hand it over and go back to his day job.
He made a start with the home telephone – it was not as intimidating as the cell phone printouts for the father, mother and eldest son of the Kasprowicz clan, and would make for a gentle start. It was amazing how twenty years ago home telephones were hammered by just about every person who lived in a household, kids often having to be dragged away to eat meals and keep the bills down. But these days, hardly anybody used them, and, coupled with the fact that the head of the family was involved in less than legitimate dealings, it explained why the list of calls made from and to the landline was so short.
Nick highlighted a half dozen numbers that seemed to crop up regularly. He set the landline list aside and picked up the sheaf of paper that represented those calls made to and from Simon Kasprowicz’s cell phone. This was going to be a very different proposition from the landline: there were seventy-eight pages covering the last six months. Nick was on page six and had highlighted eight repeated phone numbers when it came to him. He dropped the highlighter and banged the desk in triumph. The thought that he had tried to summon since his conversation with the old man. The thing that he knew was important, but did not know why. Well, now he knew. He dialled Leshaun’s number.
“Nicky, what can I do for you?” Leshaun answered.
“Sorry to bother you, but I just figured out what’s been buggin
g me.” He paused for dramatic effect.
“And?”
“If you were a big time hood, and you suddenly ended up in a turf war with a new gang, who, it seemed, had no particular aversion to killing each and every member of your gang until you gave up; if you, as said hood, then decided to make a run for it and wave goodbye to your business and associates, would you not take your daughters with you?” Nick was greeted with a ponderous silence.
“He doesn’t see them does he? I mean, they don’t talk to him do they?” Leshaun asked finally.
“Would that stop you from taking them with you, Leshaun? I mean, it doesn’t look to me like these guys are squeamish. Imagine what they might do to your family.”
“Then I don’t understand what’s happening here.”
“Neither do I at the moment. But I’m pretty certain that the man I know, and have known for most of my adult life, would not leave his daughters behind if there were any risk to them. Whether they were talking to him or not.” Nick spoke with utter conviction.
“What if they wouldn’t leave?”
“It’s possible, but I can’t imagine that would have stopped him, Leshaun. Would it stop you?”
“No man, hell no. Wild horses ‘n all,” he said.
“Then I think I’m going to keep at this until I find out what’s going on.”