Coletta seemed to manage another small smile followed by a grimace of pain, or perhaps it was a smirk. Jake couldn’t tell what control Coletta had over his facial muscles or what expression he was trying to make. Coletta was now in a semi-conscious state. His eyes focused in a blank stare on the walls around the bed like he was seeing his room for the first time.
Jake felt his time with Coletta ending as the mobster drifted off to sleep again. He lightly nudged Coletta to ask another question.
“How do I get the key to the bank box?”
“I’ll call my attorney and you can pick it up.”
The nurse anxiously stared through the window of the door. She came in without invitation and checked Coletta’s monitors.
Already knowing the answer to his question, Jake asked anyway. “Is he asleep again?”
“He’s worn out. I’m afraid that’s all he can provide you with today.”
“If he wakes up, please remind him to call his attorney. It’s very important. I’ll make certain you have the authority to get a phone to him. Hopefully, he’ll remember the number to dial.”
The nurse looked down at Coletta and then waved Pisano over to the other side of the room out of ear shot. She whispered, “I don’t think he’s got much longer.”
“I can see that, but I have to get access to some vital documents in a bank vault. I can have a court order issued, but I don’t trust his attorney, and there may not be enough time for that. Knowing Coletta, he’s probably got a fail-safe mechanism to have them destroyed when he dies unless I get to them first. I need you to make sure he calls his attorney.”
“I’ll work on that as soon as he wakes up.”
Pisano left the prison hospital uncertain about what he’d accomplished.
Chapter 2
Naval Submarine Reserve Facility
New Orleans, Louisiana
It was his weekend for reserve duty. Wade squirmed uncomfortably in the oak student desk as the instructor droned on about Southeast Asia’s geography and the waters surrounding Vietnam. Shiny new maps of Southeast Asia hung from the classroom walls, telling their own story about what the Navy was thinking.
The instructor rapidly ran through a list of nautical distances between the coastal cities of Qui Nhon, Hai Phong, and Cam Ranh. The glassed-over eyes of the students were steadfastly ignored by the instructor. He must have expected the class to either be familiar with the Asian coast line, or have photographic memories.
Bored beyond understanding, Wade drifted off into another world as the instructor went on lecturing about ocean depths and key navigational land reference points in the South China Sea.
During the break, members gathered around benches under a tree not far from the classroom. Wade went over to sit with his friend and classmate, Chief Shaun Ellsworth and asked him, “Where are they going with all this Southeast Asia stuff? Who the hell cares?”
“We’re being set up. Can’t you see that?”
“For what, exactly?”
“Unit activation. I’ve been there before. The Navy likes to sneak up on us. They never tell us what’s really happening.”
“Do you think our unit will be activated?”
“Yep. You can bet on it. I don’t know when, but they wouldn’t be doing all this because of some sudden interest in Southeast Asian geography.”
“You’ve been around for over 16 years. It’s not a sea battle over there. Why the hell are U.S. submarines needed off the coast of Vietnam?”
“China. And perhaps Russia. That’s where North Vietnam is getting all their weapons.”
“Do you see us getting into undersea battles with the Chinese or the Russians?”
“Only if they themselves become active in the war. I think subs will mainly be used for surveillance and reconnaissance missions, perhaps Special Forces deployment.”
“What’s your best guess on timing?”
“If I were to guess, I’d probably say in three to six months.”
“I just can’t believe it. I’m trying to finish school, and barely survived the Prowfish deployment interruption, and now this?”
“All this has messed up my life too. I’m supposed to retire in two years. It’s the Navy, man. You’d better believe they’ll be in the thick of things if the Vietnam War moves forward.”
Class resumed with more nautical distances and reference points to land sites. Next they went over sea depths from positions in the Gulf of Tonkin and Gulf of Thailand. After the class, Wade stayed behind to ask the instructor a question.
“Lieutenant, why is Southeast Asia so much a part of our lectures now?”
“No particular reason. Locations around the world are randomly chosen to use as examples. Next month we may be talking about the waters around Denmark.”
“Not likely, Sir. We’ve been talking about Southeast Asia for three months now.”
“It’s a big continent, surrounded by large bodies of water.”
Wade left, shaking his head in disbelief at the ludicrous answer.
The following week, Wade received a call from his former XO on the USS Prowfish, Lieutenant Commander Charles Benson.
“Wade Hanna speaking.”
“This is Commander Benson. I’m calling on behalf of Captain Hodges. We’re trying to locate prior shipmates for our upcoming deployment, and were interested in knowing if you might like to serve with Captain Hodges again, along with some of your old Prowfish crew.”
The direct question caught Wade off guard. He had to think quickly before he stuttered, “I-I really enjoyed serving with you and Captain Hodges.”
“We have a great new nuclear ship under our command. The Captain thinks he can get your extra nuclear shore training waived. You can pick up the training while onboard with us. For your rating, there are only a few new navigation equipment changes you’ll need to learn. That should be a snap for you.”
“Sounds interesting. Do you know where you’ll be deployed?”
“We don’t have orders yet, but rumor has it we’ll probably be off the South China Sea, just off Vietnam.”
Wade’s mind was racing. He wanted to be diplomatic, but he wasn’t about to commit to a three-year deployment in the South China Sea. He knew his longer-than-normal silence was conveying uncertainty. He tiptoed over eggshells, choosing his next words carefully. “I would consider it an honor to serve with you and Captain Hodges again.” Then he quickly thought, I can’t end on that note.
“It’s good to hear that. I’ll be sure to convey your sentiments to the Captain.”
“I just want to let you know, though, that I’m still dealing with some personal issues right now. My mother died recently, and I’m trying to hold things together at school for the next few months until I graduate.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother. But it sounds like your school issues might be under control soon. I’ll explain that to the Captain. Call me when everything gets sorted out, but don’t wait too much longer. Some final decisions will have to be made soon. You wouldn’t want to miss out on a great opportunity like this one.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you for thinking of me.”
The call ended with some relief, along with overarching worry. The muscles in Wade’s jaw tightened, thinking about how the conversation had gone. He knew whatever time he had left before his status would change had just gotten shorter. His brow line contracted as he hung up the receiver and thought nervously about the call. Hodges snatched me right out of my reserve unit in the blink of any eye when he needed men for the Prowfish. He could do it again. His stomach tightened with a new sense of urgency.
Two weeks after the Coletta meeting, Jake called Wade to meet at the Old Grill. The two men arrived at the same time and walked over to Jake’s favorite table. Wade saw the strained expression on Jake’s face. He’d seen it before; this meeting wasn’t going to include a lot of idle chit chat.
“Good to see you again. Your message sounded urgent.”
Jake began withou
t preamble, “I met with Coletta before he died last week in prison. He transferred $12 million of our marked blue-dye currency to Lugassi just weeks before we made our arrests. The deal was that Lugassi was supposed to give Coletta $8 million back in clean currency. But Lugassi never paid Coletta the $8 million. That’s why we never found the missing funds.”
Wade shook his head in disbelief. “Those two guys hated each other. Why would Coletta just give Lugassi the money?”
“Coletta had an insurance policy. He has records on Lugassi’s drug operations in Central and South America. They were also going into the auto parts business together in Central America.”
Wade sighed aloud. “So the marked money has already been disbursed through multiple offshore banks and is now probably all over the world.”
Jake nodded in acknowledgement before Wade spoke what was uppermost in his mind. “Well, at least Coletta is out of the picture now. Things should calm down for me.”
“That’s partially true, but it’s not all that simple. That’s the reason I called you.”
“What else?”
“The other thing Coletta said was that he transferred all his ‘hit contracts’ to Lugassi - and that you’re on that list. If it’s any consolation, I’m also on the list, but then I’m on every criminal’s hit list.”
Wade frowned. “What? That’s all I need to hear right now. Lugassi’s mob is fifty times larger than Coletta’s gang. I thought with the Coletta guys in prison, things would cool down for me. Damn it! I just got off submarine deployment and missed a lot of school. And now the Navy is getting ready to activate our unit for Vietnam. I’m totally screwed.”
“Did anything ever come of that meeting with the intelligence group?”
Wade’s voice sounded morose when he answered. “Yeah. I met with Jenkins a couple of times. I put together the proposal they wanted, but I don’t have any commitment from them yet. I’m still waiting for a response. They’ve told me they’re interested, but the thing is taking forever to finalize.”
“According to Coletta, Lugassi thinks you’re still out at sea. That’s a good thing for a while.”
“Yeah, good until someone sees me.”
“Then you have to make yourself less visible. Stay away from public places, the Quarter, any mob restaurants or hangouts. If you want to carry a weapon again, I can make a permit happen.”
“I don’t go out as it is. I have no social life - no life at all. I haven’t been to the race track for ages. In fact, I don’t even go to the damn movies anymore.”
“Have you ever considered going to the police academy?”
“No. I promised myself and my parents I was going to finish college before I do anything else with my life – assuming I survive that long.”
Seeing Wade’s discomfort, Jake tried to mollify him.
“One good thing about Lugassi is that he’s so busy, it’ll take him a long time to get to you. You aren’t a threat to any of his businesses, which means you probably won’t get his immediate attention. His operations are all over the state. In fact, they’re so big their size works against them. With Coletta gone, you probably fall under “old business.” He’s got much bigger fish to fry.”
“I need to make something work in my life. I’m graduating from high school in three months, and then I need to find a way to get out of town and start college before someone grabs me.”
Wade paused with his head down. He continued to think out loud, open for any suggestions Jake might be able to provide. Jake was silent, also thinking about what he could do to help.
Wade spoke next. “I’ll go back and contact the Agency to see if I can arrange another meeting. I also have my summer reserve sea duty coming up, and that’ll take me out of town for a few weeks. I guess I’ll have to just spend more time in the swamp.”
Jake offered what little advice he could. “I think the Agency is a good option for you, at least in terms of the mob. You’ll be out of town for training and assignments, and you’ll have the Agency behind you. The mob thinks twice before they target someone in the Agency. Hitting an Agency guy will bring down a whole lot of hurt on them.”
Wade squirmed in his chair. He had the sudden urge to change the subject. “Have you tried Dean’s Seafood lately? I heard they changed management.”
Jake looked into Wade’s eyes, ignoring the question. But before he could conjure up some response to the last question, Wade changed the subject again.
“I’m going to need that permit to carry a concealed weapon.”
“Just fill out the application and drop it off at my office. I’ll take care of it.”
Wade took the time to fill out the permit paperwork never believing he would need it, since most of his previous work had been on behalf of the NOPD. The hope of a calmer existence with Coletta out of the picture was gone with the wind.
Wade oiled the hinges to the hidden trap door under the dash. He put in his old Colt .45 ACP where he always kept it. It wouldn’t be a long wait for the permit to come back, and Wade knew that Jake would cover him if he had to use the gun before that time.
His routine fell into a normal pace. The goals were clear and simple. Finish high school as quickly as possible before the mob found him or the Navy deployed him. Sometime in the next few months, he had to find out if the Intelligence Agency wanted him. Whoever got to him first would change his future in ways he could not imagine. None of his alternatives seemed very bright right now, and a few seemed downright deadly.
Chapter 3
Wade was preparing for a final exam at his friend’s house, a half block off Magazine Street near the upscale “Garden District.” As the study session ended, exam questions rolled around Wade’s head like they were on a loose sprocket wheel. After hanging over books most of the day and evening, a milkshake from the drive-in sounded like a good idea. The drive-in was on the way home, and Wade was long past being ready to leave.
Thoughts of milkshakes quickly faded two blocks from the Dairy Queen. The same headlights that had shown in Wade’s rear view mirror for the last six blocks were still there.
He slowed down, allowing the tail to come closer. The vehicle didn’t pull around him, but instead backed off when it got within a car’s length of Wade’s rear bumper.
It approached close enough for Wade to get four digits of the license plate number as they showed in reverse in his rear view mirror. Wade wrote the numbers down in the proper sequence on his hand with a ball point pen. By the number sequence, Wade knew his follower was not an unmarked police patrol car.
Wade pulled forward again, resuming normal speed. He made a left turn, and then followed it with a right turn at the next block. The tail was still following. Wade slowed down again. The car behind pulled closer and then fell back as it approached his vehicle.
He repeated the same pattern several more times. Wade slowed again, trying to get a better look at the passengers. The two men inside were middle-aged, wearing dark suits. They looked like mob enforcers. When the trailing car backed off this time, Wade down-shifted the four-speed floor transmission into second gear just before releasing the clutch and slamming the accelerator to the floor.
The two four-barrel carburetors sitting atop the Corvette manifold made a deep whooshing sound like air sucking through an industrial vacuum. The high-performance 283-cubic-inch Corvette engine screamed like a wild pig. Tire rubber squealed, and white smoke enveloped the rear fenders of Wade’s `55 Chevy. The acceleration pushed him back against the bench seat as he grabbed a tighter hold on the steering wheel, trying to control the beast.
Residents of the serene Garden District had either gone to bed or were watching the last late-night program on TV. Restful Garden District or not, Wade had no choice but to lose his followers before they got to him.
A click of the under-seat button with his left hand brought the bottom of his hidden dash compartment down. The handle of his old 1911 semi-automatic Colt .45 ACP popped out like a welcome friend who had come to joi
n the party. Wade put his companion on the front seat next to him to enjoy the ride.
The black sedan following picked up speed, but the sound told Wade his followers had a smaller engine and was no match for what he had under the hood. And there would be no stopping to ask, Why are you following me? If these men got close enough to Wade, he’d be showered with bullets. If he stopped to engage them in a gun fight, the two probably had more fire power than a small army – with more men waiting nearby to jump in for help.
He was alone in this chase, and while Wade loved his ’55 Chevy, he didn’t want it to become his coffin. His only option was to lose or outrun his tail. As he picked up speed, his mind raced, trying to identify both the tail and the route he’d take.
He thought of old adversaries from the race track, gang members or Coletta’s old mob. These were older men, though. Could they be Lugassi’s men? Regardless of who’d sent them, this was no time to stick around and find out.
Approaching a red light, Wade quickly checked for oncoming traffic and down-shifted into third gear. The wheels squealed again as he blew past the red light doing sixty mph. He suddenly slowed back down to forty to make a left turn.
The black sedan was still following several blocks behind. He confirmed that they’d pursued him around the last turn. They weren’t particularly fast, but they were persistent, staying the course at a reasonable three-block distance. Wade’s frequent turns and ability to accelerate didn’t seem to bother them. They just kept coming.
Notwithstanding the docile neighborhood, Wade decided he had to go for it. He made several more left and right turns at high speeds. He thought: If nothing else, a high-speed chase in an upscale residential neighborhood should prompt someone to call the police.
He laughed out loud at his own thought. Here I am, wishing someone would call the police for my own protection. Wow, what a concept. If these were Lugassi’s men, by the time the police got there, he’d be dead. He pressed the pedal to the floor again, trying to create greater distance from his adversaries before the next turn.
Lethal Authority (Wade Hanna Series Book 2) Page 2