by Robert Swetz
“Kid! We can’t let people get murdered. Who are we talking about here?”
“Brian stood up. “I need to see that license before you get anything at all. Call Father Joseph here if you ever find it. I’ll stay in touch with him, but you better hurry. Three days from now, by midnight, all of them are going to be dead.”
“All of who are going to be dead? Three days?”
Brian spoke to Father Joseph. “Father Joseph, I’ll be in touch.” He walked out, leaving the priest staring behind him. He easily found his way out to the dining room and he let himself out through the door. Two blocks later he climbed into the car where his father and uncle were waiting for him.
Vince didn’t say anything to his son. He just kept staring at him.
“Did I do okay?” Brian finally asked.
Vince nodded. “I think that’ll work,” he replied.
Gerald laughed. “No doubt!”
Chapter 17
Special Agent Rockford hung up his phone. That stupid police detective in New York needed the Bianchi license. He couldn’t care less about who had killed a bunch of gang members in New York. The more the better as far as he was concerned. But he knew all about the jet that had exploded at the airport. That jet had belonged to Vincent Bianchi. Francesca Bianchi’s husband. Going by that license, Francesca had last been seen in New York. Vincent’s jet had just been blown to hell in New York. Were the two of them getting together again? Or was Francesca now aligned with someone else who was willing to kill her husband to protect her? That was a possibility he couldn’t ignore.
And then the detective had mentioned more people were going to be killed, three days from now, by midnight. Who? Was it just more gang members, or whoever had blown up the jet, or…was it Bianchi himself who they were still targeting? If they had blown up his jet, then he had no doubt that Vincent Bianchi was still a target. A big target! Once again, like everyone else, he had to wonder why Vincent Bianchi hadn’t been on that plane when it exploded. There had been enough dead body’s left lying on the ground to start a cemetery!
But the one thing that stayed on top of his mind over all of that, was the kid. That darn kid who had played them just to get access to the box. But the kid had seen the Bianchi license. He himself had shown it to him and the kid had rejected it immediately. It had been clear that the license hadn’t been the one he had been looking for. So why now? What had changed? Why did that damn kid want that particular license all of a sudden? It didn’t make a lot of sense. Not to mention he had no clue what anyone would want with the old license anyway. It was useless. Especially since he couldn’t see any way at all that an old license like that could lead anyone to wherever Francesca Bianchi was staying now…if she was even in New York, which he was betting she was.”
All the questions. Did he need to know the answers? Not really. They had no case pending against either Vincent Bianchi or his wife. They just wanted to keep tabs on them. Men like Vincent Bianchi had to be watched. But the big deal here was the jet. Vincent Bianchi’s jet. An explosion that had killed a lot of people. Four police officers among them. Why hadn’t Vincent been on that jet when it blew up? Or was he? It was enough of a mess that they were still searching through the wreckage.
He picked up his phone again to let his supervisor and his team know that they were heading back to New York. As he did, he remembered that the last time they had gone to New York, someone had leaked information that had gotten to the wrong people. He still didn’t know who had done it, but there was no way he was going to leave his usual team behind. Besides them being useful, he still had to figure out if one of them had leaked any information, and he couldn’t do that unless he brought them with him. He was simply going to have to limit what he told each of them, which wasn’t going to be difficult since he knew less than nothing himself. He’d just have to hope he could catch whoever had leaked that information.
After calling his supervisor and then his team, he made one last phone call, down to the evidence room to have Francesca Bianchi’s old driver’s license sent up to him as soon as possible. The police detective in New York had wanted the license sent to him right away, but there was no way he was going to let that damn cop talk to the boy alone. After just that one little talk, he had no doubt the boy would make mincemeat of the cop. He, and his entire team, were going to talk to the boy instead. Then he’d get some answers! There was just one thing that worried him.
That damn kid!
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
“Talk to me!” Michael said into his cellphone.
“I just thought you might be interested,” the voice replied. “I just got word we’re leaving for New York again tonight. I don’t know exactly why yet. All I know is that it has something to do with Francesca Bianchi, but I haven’t been able to get any details.”
“Francesca! What about her?”
“I don’t know. Rockford wouldn’t tell me.”
“Find out, damn it! Find out everything you can! Then call me. Immediately!”
“I’m trying!”
“It’s important!” Michael told him.
“I called, didn’t I? The minute I know something more, I’ll let you know. I just thought you’d be interested.”
Michael ended the call and put his phone away. Useless contact. Basically, all he had done was to tell him he didn’t know why he was coming to New York. Useless! If it did have something to do with Francesca, what could it possibly be that would bring a Washington based FBI agent out to New York again? New York had its own FBI division. A big one. They didn’t need anyone from Washington muddying up the works. And neither did he.
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
“The FBI,” Vince said once they had gotten back to his hotel suite.
“Yeah,” Gerald replied. “Why would they be so interested in Fran?”
“We thought it was the New York Police,” Vince said. “Maybe we were wrong.”
“Maybe,” Gerald replied.
“What’s the problem?” Fran asked.
“The FBI has your license, not the police. It seems that when Brian talked with the police last time, a few of them were really FBI agents.”
“Why would the FBI be interested in me?” Fran asked.
“We don’t know,” her husband replied. “And if that license was in that box like Brian says it was, and the box went directly to the police, how did they find out about it to begin with?”
They all looked at each other, but nobody had an answer.
“Do you see any problem with our plan because of it?” Gerald asked.
Vince thought about it. “None that I can see. We better be careful though.”
“How about Brian? I have no doubt he’ll be dealing with the FBI instead of the police.”
Vince shrugged. “From what we heard, evidently he was dealing with them before, and they didn’t give him any trouble.” He and Gerald stared at each other for a moment. “Do you see any reason why we don’t keep going with all of it?” Vince asked.
“I say we keep going…with everything,” Gerald told him.
Vince looked to his wife. “Fran?”
Fran shook her head. “Police, FBI, I don’t see where it makes much difference. They’re not going to learn much of anything anyway. And we’re making sure Brian only knows what he needs to know and nothing else.”
“True,” Vince agreed. “We go then,” he decided. “All of it.”
“Are you ready for tonight then?” Gerald asked.
Vince smiled. “All set!”
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
For an abandoned building, there had been a lot of activity going on all day. Mostly, construction work. A load of building materials had been dropped off early in the day, and two men had spent a few hours working with it, doing nothing more than building a box. A large box. A box that was constructed to hold something very heavy without breaking.
Now that it was night, those two men stood outside the building whe
re the air was cooler and stared out at the Hudson River. They were hot and sweaty, and the breeze coming off the water was welcomed. They were still there doing just one thing now. Waiting.
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
Michael said nothing as he parked his car against the curb. He said nothing as he got out and went into the building next to his car. Pete and Josh didn’t say anything to each other about it either. They just got out of the hot car and stood on the sidewalk, waiting. They knew Michael. They could almost time it to the minute when he would come back out. Thirty-five minutes. They didn’t even joke about it anymore.
Upstairs, Michael didn’t bother knocking. He used his key to open the door. He smiled as he saw the woman waiting for him, dressed in nothing but sexy lingerie. As he crossed the floor toward her, she held up a glass of bourbon for him. He grabbed it in one hand and pulled her close with his other. He kissed her, just like he did most evenings. He felt lucky. She was one hot sexy woman! Something she proved five minutes later when they made it to the bedroom.
Outside, a man was walking his dog along the sidewalk. Josh and Pete were leaning against Michael’s car, talking about the differences between the Yankees and the Mets baseball teams. They didn’t pay the man much attention. They should have. As the man walked past them, his silenced gun spat twice, one bullet for each of them. The dog didn’t even bark as Josh and Pete collapsed to the sidewalk. The man with the dog hurried to the corner where he turned the stolen dog loose. Then he ran back towards the car where two other men were in the process of putting Josh and Pete’s bodies into the backseat, making it look like they were just sitting there waiting on their boss. One of them did a quick search and grabbed their cellphones and guns. The cellphones he tore apart and stripped the batteries from them as he hurried away.
The entire thing took just over a minute. Michael took more time. His usual amount of time. Almost thirty-five minutes from the time he entered the building, he walked out of it. He saw Pete and Josh sitting in the backseat where he had left them. That was the last thing he saw as his head exploded in pain and he dropped unconscious to the sidewalk. The man who hit him searched his body and grabbed his gun. He also grabbed the silencer he found in one of his pockets. Another pocket gave him Michael’s cellphone. Two other men loaded his unconscious body into the car before one of them drove it away.
Vince and Gerald sat in a car a block away and watched what they could. The entire thing had gone with almost military precision. But then a lot of Vince’s men were ex-military. Vince opened his window as the man who had grabbed Michael’s gun and cellphone approached. He held out a bag and the man dropped Michael’s gun and the silencer into it. The man showed Vince the battery from Michael’s cellphone.
“Nice work,” Vince told him. “See you there.” He pushed the button to raise the window and spoke to his driver. “Get us out of here.”
His driver followed Michael’s car out toward the river to the old, abandoned building. “Coming in?” Vince asked Gerald.
Gerald smiled. “No, this is your show tonight. I’ll get the results from you later.”
While Gerald headed back to the hotel, Vince headed into the old building. He was just in time to see one of his men smash his fist against Michael’s face because Michael was giving them such a hard time. In moments though, Michael was tied to a chair and wasn’t giving anyone any trouble. Vincent walked over to him.
“Vincent damn Bianchi,” Michael said, then he laughed. “Are you going to kill me now?”
“Not yet,” Vince replied calmly.
“So, you’re going to torture me then first?”
“Not exactly. I’m from Chicago. We used to do things that way, and sometimes we still do, but most of the time now we do things a bit differently.”
“What?”
Vince said nothing. He looked at one of his men instead and watched as the man walked up behind Michael and stuck a needle into Michael’s neck. Michael struggled and screamed but it did no good. In moments the drug had been administered and it was already making its way into his brain.
“What was that?” Michael demanded, his head beginning to spin.
“Just something to make you a bit more talkative. Unfortunately, I understand that when you wake up after it, you most likely won’t remember anything that went on. You might not even remember visiting your girlfriend earlier.”
“What was it?” Michael demanded, his voice beginning to slur a bit. “Nothing special. Most of it is Rohypnol. You’ve heard of that part I’m sure. You probably use it yourself. Many people simply refer to it as the date rape drug. We just added a little something else to it to strengthen the affect.”
Michael laughed. “You’re going to rape me?”
“Not exactly. I’ll let you sit tight for a few minutes while that drug takes full affect.” He walked out of the hot building for a few minutes to get some air. The cooler breeze off the water was refreshing after just a few minutes in the hot building. He briefly wondered if the heat would make the drug work any better or faster. Not that it mattered. He watched the boats for fifteen minutes before he went back in.
Michael Scuderi looked drunk, just like he expected. The interesting thing about the drug he had given him, was that Michael not only would be compliant and do whatever he wanted, he would also have no idea what he was doing. In this case, answering questions.
“Hello Michael,” Vince said as he stood in front of him. He watched as Michael’s head lolled up and his unfocused eyes tried to look at him. “I’ve got a few questions that I know you’re dying to answer. Did your father order the hit on Dominic Giordano?”
Michael let out a small chuckle. “Fun,” he said.
“Fun?”
“Yeah,” Michael said as he let out more of a laugh.
Vince watched Michael’s eyes as he seemed to be remembering something. “Michael. Who killed Dominic? Was it you?”
“Michael laughed again. Fun! It was lots of fun. His head went poof and he fell over in his chair.” He laughed again. “He didn’t even know I was there.”
“You were there? Where?”
“Just outside his window. Outside his office. Bang. Poof!” He laughed again.
“Why did you kill him? Why did you kill Dominic Giordano?”
Michael stopped laughing. “Because Iris was busy.”
“Iris?”
“Yeah. Pop wanted her to do it. He usually has her do stuff like that. But she was busy.”
“What was she doing?”
“Getting the money from you.”
“So she was in Chicago and couldn’t get to L.A. where Dominic was.”
“Pop sent me instead. Fun!” he added with a laugh. “Poof!” He laughed again. “I showed Pop I can do the job better than she can.”
Vincent was starting to get the bigger picture now. Evidently Iris was a bigger part of what the Scuderi family did than anyone knew. In fact, nobody had known she existed. The perfect person to go into somewhere, make it look like she belonged there, and then pull off whatever crime she needed to take care of. He had to admire her for that. But in this case, what she had done had affected his family. That couldn’t be excused, and it wouldn’t be.
“Michael,” Vince said, “your father has increased his security. What’s he done?”
“Michael’s head lolled up again and he looked at Vince and smiled. “So you and damn Giordano can’t get in.”
“What’s he done?” Vince asked again.
“Men. Guards. Lots of them.”
“Are they all outside?”
“Most of them. Not all. Old Pop is scared. He shouldn’t be. I can handle damn Giordano and Bianchi.” He looked up at Vince again and smiled. “Oh, that’s you. I can handle you.”
Vince shook his head. “You’re doing a great job of it already.”
“See,” Michael said as his head lolled around on his shoulders again.
“How many men has your father brought in?”
&nbs
p; “I don’t know. Ask Pop. He called them. It’s his problem.”
Vincent got the feeling that Michael wasn’t too concerned about anyone getting back at Samuel for ordering the hit against Dominic. But Samuel had definitely ordered the hit. He had sent Iris to Chicago to get her hands on the money, but since she was there and the deal was about to go through, Samuel had to put a quick stop to it, so he sent Michael to Los Angles to take care of it. With Dominic dead, the deal got stopped, but Iris had failed to get the money. Which brought up one last question.
“Michael, why didn’t Iris manage to get the money?”
“Ha!” Michael exclaimed as if it was a laugh. “She’s not nearly as good as she thinks.”
“What happened?”
“She almost got it, but not quite,” Michael said.
“What happened?” Vince asked again.
“She got rid of one of Bianchi’s maids…uh…one of your maids,” he corrected himself, “then she took her place. Then…” His head lolled around a bit before he said, “I’m not sure. It was a long time ago. I remember her saying she had some kind of camera set up to watch your computer so she could see everything you did and even what you typed. Once she knew what she needed, all she had to do was to log into your account and change the password. According to her, she said she started, she just couldn’t finish.”
“What do you mean, she couldn’t finish?”
“She said she logged in and had started to change the password, when Bianchi’s damn wife…uh, your wife…came busting through the door and almost caught her messing with your computer. Your damn wife simply got in the way.” He laughed for a moment, then said, “Stupid Iris had to hide in the room, and before she could do anything, your wife sat down and changed the password herself, then logged off. Since she was hiding in the same room, she couldn’t see her camera or what your wife was doing.” He laughed. “She was screwed! She had no way to get to that account anymore.” He laughed again. “And then your wife took off and nobody could find her. She failed, and I succeeded! Ha! See that? Take that Sis!”