Wiseguys in the Woods

by John P. M. Wappett

  As always happens when everyone is having fun, time flew by. While Peter had worried he might be preoccupied by the enigmas of Bruno Sica and “Wally”, he found that this time with his family absorbed him completely. The silliest things became the highlights of the vacation in Peter’s mind: the morning that Susie was terrorized by three paper white butterflies, who Peter tried to humanize by naming Joe, Mike and Sam. Susie wasn’t buying it. They were dangerous and they were hunting her.

  During their walks back up the steep hill to their accommodations, Peter made a point of rolling the umbrella stroller over the grates of the storm sewer. As Gary saw one approaching, he would start with a loud “ahhhhhhh” which the vibration of the wheels on the grate would convert to “ah-ah-ah-ah-ah” followed by Gary’s giggles and his favorite directive, “Again!”

  ***

  Although he frequently received calls and pages from various cops, Peter was surprised to hear from Henry Bradley at midnight, a few days after their return from Bermuda.

  “So what’s on your mind, Mr. Special Agent in Charge Henry Bradley, sir?”

  “I am sorry to be bothering you at home, especially at this hour, but I thought that you would want to know that I just got a teletype from our people in Rome that they had very important and sensitive news about the identification of Sica that we had requested. Due to the time difference, I will be taking the call at the office at 6 A.M. I am suggesting that the task force meet at our office at 10 A.M. and you can all hear a tape recording of the call.”

  “Okay, Henry, you have got my interest piqued. Just exactly when was the last time anyone had received a phone call from the Rome office?”

  “Actually, Peter, telephone conferences with our overseas offices are pretty rare, so I am as surprised as you are. I would have expected a fax or perhaps a telex, if it were important.”

  “Well, Henry, given what we know about Sica and all of the questions we do not have answers to, what is your best guess on what we are going to hear in the morning?”

  Peter could hear Henry’s frustrated sigh. “I truly can’t guess what could be so important and sensitive.”

  “So, you’re telling me that we will all be going without much sleep tonight.”

  “See you at 10!”

  Peter was at work at 8 A.M., turning on lights as he headed to his office. He had already stopped by the State Police and arranged to ride to INS headquarters with Ned Khoury and Abe Dorn. He was too anxious to subject himself to travelling at close to the speed limit when he could hitch a ride on a rocket. The fact that the meeting would be at 10 A.M. no matter when he arrived was logic that he did not welcome on this particular day.

  It was just as well that the trip was quick, because they were all keyed up like kids on Christmas morning, impatiently waiting for the grownups to wake up.

  INS Special Agent Dave Grace met them at the security desk and led them upstairs.

  Peter looked at him. “Come on, Dave! What did Rome say?”

  Dave laughed. “If you can believe it, Henry won’t tell me. He is having the time of his life holding onto this until we are all together. It’s a sadistic side of him I’ve never seen before. I love it.”

  They were led into a large conference room in which nearly half the task force had already arrived. Peter and Dave made a bee line for the coffee pot. Peter engaged Dave in some chitchat about Dave’s work in the Army Reserves. A former Special Forces sergeant, he was attached to the 10th Mountain Division, headquartered in Watertown, New York at Fort Drum. While Peter was truly interested, he was also trying to keep himself occupied with something so that he wouldn’t look too obviously nervous.

  Promptly at 10, Henry Bradley entered the room and walked to the front. Peter could see a tape cassette in Henry’s hand.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.” Henry was looking, for all the world, like the cat that ate the canary. “The conversation I had early this morning was with Giuseppe Martini, a civilian Italian employee of INS, who is an organized crime expert. I have forwarded the tape to the pertinent portion of the conversation. The conversation is classified ‘Confidential’ and everyone in this room, even our lawyer (nodding at Peter), is cleared to hear it. Henry then turned and put the cassette into the machine behind him and turned with a flourish. Henry really was enjoying himself.

  Eight law enforcement officials nearly stopped breathing. The first voice to be heard came through slightly tinny and distant and with a noticeable Italian accent.

  “Do you have any idea who it is that you have in custody over there?”

  Henry’s voice was clearer than Mr. Martini’s: “We have heard some things.”

  The slightly accented and tinny voice of Martini resumed his report. “We have confirmed that man’s identity both through photograph identification and with fingerprints. Not only did we show his photos to carabinieri in Naples, but even to his wife in Avellino.

  “When we first arrived at Carabinieri headquarters in Naples, my partner George, showed the photos to the head of the Anti-Mafia task force, and he just said, ‘Oh, yes. That’s Enrico. We’ve been looking for him.’”

  “And why’s that?” asked Henry’s voice on the recording.

  “His name is Enrico Madonna, and he is the consiglieri, that is, chief counselor, to Don Raffaele Cutolo, the head of the New Camorra Organization. In terms of numbers of ‘made’ members, the NCO is one of the largest and most dangerous organized crime groups in the world.

  Henry’s voice cut in. “Consiglieri? Excuse me if I’m not up on my Italian…”

  “It means ‘counselor or advisor’. Madonna is a lawyer, and became one while in prison. He is not only counselor to the Don but also the ‘voice’ of Cutolo, who is serving a life sentence for murder. Because of this role as spokesman, the Italian press have nicknamed Madonna ‘Ambassadore De La Mala’, that being ‘Ambassador of the Mob’. He is also known by other nicknames, including ‘Il Vampiro’, the vampire, because he looks a bit like Count Dracula, and ‘l’ Avvacato’, the lawyer.”

  “Ok, but that still doesn’t tell me why Italian law enforcement has been after him.”

  “At the present time Madonna is wanted on three warrants for: Criminal Association of the Mafia Type, Extortion and Drug violations. The warrants were issued three years ago by the Procuratore or ‘District Attorney General’ of Naples and Avellino. Dottor Madonna is also known to have criminal specialties including bank robbery, extortion, and drug distribution. He is considered extremely dangerous.”

  “How do you suppose he ended up in upstate New York?”

  “Madonna had been on parole and was ordered not to leave his home town of Avellino. The parole was the result of his conviction for bank robbery. It is thought that he may have fled the country accompanied by Fortuna Cutolo, the sister of Don Raffaele. She is also wanted for her role in the commission of three murders. Fortuna is also good friends with Don Raffaele’s wife, Rosetta, who has the nickname “Ice Eyes”. When we send you a photo, you will understand.”

  “So far, we haven’t had any sightings of either of them…” Henry’s voice sounded relieved about that.

  “Finally, you should know that the Italian authorities are extremely anxious to interview Dottor Madonna and appear willing to send a delegation to your city to meet with him. While they are not disclosing what in particular they wish to discuss with Madonna, they did offer the belief that should he return to Italy, he will likely be killed due to his extensive knowledge of the affairs of Cutolo and the NCO.

  This knowledge would also include Camorra connections with the other organized crime mafia groups such as the Calabrian Mafia and the Sicilian Mafia, as well as their U. S. counterparts. That being the case, it is believed that if he is able to be released from custody, he will flee to South America and go underground. A number of exiled camorristi and Mafiosi have found that Brazil is a pleasant place to start over.”

  Staring at his hands as he took in what Giuseppe Martini was saying, Pet
er jumped slightly at the sound of the cassette machine being stopped. He looked up to see Henry at the machine, grinning from ear to ear.

  For several long seconds, there was no sound at all. That pause was followed by a nearly unanimous exhaling of held breath. Although each was lost in his own thoughts, they all had come to the shocking realization that this had just become a career case.

  In the law enforcement community, the career case is an almost mythical creature not unlike a unicorn. It is an investigation or trial of such importance, complexity or newsworthiness, that it comes to define the life’s work of the people who can claim to have been involved. The vast majority of cops and prosecutors go through their entire careers without having more than a minor role in someone else’s career case. Most often, serial killers provide career cases, such as Ted Bundy, who had just been executed that January. Having in custody a man who might well be in the Top 100 of world organized crime figures would serve to be a career case as well. Thank you very much!

  “Holy shit! What the hell has Mama Drake’s little boy gotten himself into?” Peter stretched himself back in his chair with his legs straight out in front of him, as he wiped his hands down his face.

  Mike observed, “Well, that confirms what our confidential informant told us the other day, although there is a lot more to him than she told us.”

  Mike’s partner, Guy added, “And we still don’t know why he was here, although the idea that he might be in hiding seems to fit with what we have observed of his behavior.”

  Mike looked puzzled. “But why would this guy and the ones at the wine store be here in upstate New York, far away from the City. It’s like finding a porpoise in Nebraska. They would be way out of their comfort zones and away from familiar places and people. Most organized crime is found in large cities, but here we have wiseguys in the woods.”

  “Really!” Peter agreed. “There’s never been anything like this around here. In fact, the only time I’ve heard of any mobsters was when we had two wannabes named Zuziela and Guarina decide to travel from Long Island to vacation in Rensselaerville up in the mountains south of Albany. We never found out why they were there, but Vinnie Z. got bored one night and went to the local bar. He got hustled at the pool table by the young woman he was trying pick up. He left all pissed off and returned a little later with his partner, who stood all the patrons up against the bar at gunpoint while Vinnie patted them down and took back his money. I indicted them for coercion and we were headed for trial until Vinnie Z. disappeared. A few weeks later he was found, at LaGuardia, in the trunk of his car, having come down with an acute case of lead poisoning, if you will.”

  Unable to offer any explanation to this contradiction, Dave Grace turned to Peter and asked, “Any thoughts on what else we can do to keep him from getting out on bail and putting enough pressure on him to get him to cooperate with us?”

  “Off the top of my head, I am wondering if I might be able to use that robbery conviction that Mr. Martini mentioned, to establish that Sica, I mean Madonna, is a second felony offender and must receive an enhanced state prison sentence.” Peter was now frantically scribbling notes on the pad in front of him.

  “Can you do that with an Italian conviction?”

  “Eh, this is just my recollection of the statute, but I know that there is a provision for using foreign convictions from other jurisdictions, such as another state. I have to prove that it was a conviction in that state, that it would be a felony here in New York and that the conviction was within the last ten years, less any time spent in prison in between crimes. I seem to recall that the ‘foreign conviction’ provision applies to crimes committed in other countries as well.”

  Henry joined the discussion. “What is meant by ‘that it would be a felony in New York’?”

  Peter smiled, finally getting to put on his expert cap and not having to feel like the lost one in the room. “The example I use to explain this is the Florida felony of alligator poaching. It cannot serve as the predicate felony, because we have no comparable felony on the books in New York. Nor do we have alligators, except in the sewers of New York City, if the legends be true. Likewise, if Madonna has been convicted of that Criminal Association of Mafia type crime that Giuseppe Martini mentioned, chances are that we do not have anything comparable either.”

  “So what do you need in order to figure this all out?”

  He looked down at the notes that he had just made. “I would need copies of the Italian prosecutor’s accusatory instrument - the paper that describes what Madonna did to commit a robbery, a copy of the Italian robbery statute that he was charged under, the judgment of conviction showing that he was sentenced on a felony, showing the date of his conviction, as well as certified translations of all of those. If all goes as I hope, we can aim a 3 ½ to 7 year sentence at him for each document, and we could seek to run them consecutively, that is one sentence after the other. That should keep him around for a bit.”

  Henry was already out of his chair. “I will get out a telex to our people in Rome right away.”

  When Henry left the room, the rest of the task force broke into excited chatter as the core group remained seated together.

  Guy leaned forward to the group. “Even beyond the question of why Madonna is here, in upstate New York of all places, is whether he is alone or part of something larger. Keep in mind that Giuseppe said Cutolo’s sister is also on the lam. Why?”

  Peter stood up to stretch. “How about a simple question? What the heck is a Camorra?”

  After a second or two, during which each member realized that they had no idea either, they all laughed, realizing that they had some research to do.

  ***

  After a few days of reaching out to colleagues in New York City and elsewhere, Mike and Guy were able to find a consultant with the NYPD whose specialty was Italian organized crime. Mike had once worked with this fellow back when Mike was assigned to go undercover, infiltrating the Irish mob in New York City. Coincidentally, the consultant had been involved in the recently completed Pizza Connection case and shared the same name as the lead Italian prosecuting judge, who was in the process of developing his own country’s case against the Sicilian Mafia for their role in the same intercontinental drug smuggling enterprise. The Italians had gone so far as to build their own bunker-like court building in which to conduct what was being touted by the world press as the Mafia maxi-trial.

  Mike, Guy and Dave took a trip down to Brooklyn to meet with this expert, hoping to puzzle out why someone that high up the criminal food chain as Madonna had been living an understated existence in Menands, New York of all places. They brought with them lists of the people that Madonna had associated with in Albany and New York City to run by this new resource.

  Inv. Giovanni Falcone, NYPD, was the antithesis of the prototype Mafioso, looking more like a Malibu beach bum. Giovanni explained that his family originated from the very northern part of Italy, where Swiss influences still appeared in the locals in the form of blue eyes and blond hair. The three sat down in Falcone’s cave-like office, the walls of which were uninterrupted book shelves jammed with hard and soft-covered volumes, reams of case note paper in investigation folders and mounds of glossy photographs.

  While Falcone was out gathering coffee for them, Dave Grace started reading the titles of the volumes nearest Giovanni’s desk chair. The Canadian Connection, Cosa Nostra: A History of the Sicilian Mafia, The Pizza Connection and Quitting the Mob were in one section of the shelf, next to a carabinieri hat. A new volume sat on his desk, only partly read, if the book mark was accurate. It was entitled The Octopus: The Long Reach of International Sicilian Mafia.

  When their host returned with the coffee, they began by going through the list of Madonna’s associates. Falcone found it interesting that the group at the meeting in the Princess Georgiana Hotel in Lake George included known associates of several of the five families of La Cosa Nostra. Although two or more of the families occasionally became allies fo
r one reason or another, it was unusual for representatives from the Bonnano, Colombo, Gambino and Genovese families, that is four out of the five families of La Cosa Nostra, to be all in one place and hobnobbing. As he explained it, the five families were connected to one another at the top, by the Commission, but were competitors on most every other level.

  He then surprised the two by telling them that Irvin “the Fat Man” Schiff, who they had watched driving his big red cigarette boat at the lake George meeting, had recently been shot dead in a Bonnano-owned restaurant in the Bronx. Falcone described the bizarre efforts to remove his nearly 400 pound corpse, as the emergency personnel had had to cut down the front door and its frame to make enough space to get him out. Since no gurney was wide enough, they then used the front door as a stretcher, which took ten men to muscle out of the restaurant. The entire episode had been featured in a recent edition of New Yorker magazine.