Home Goes The Warrior

by Jeff Noonan

  t the same time Lee and Maggie were meeting with Tom Wright in Washington, D.C., another group had assembled in South Philadelphia, not far from the shipyard. They were meeting in an unremarkable little row home that only stood out from its neighbors because of its very expensive hardwood front door. In this neighborhood, the quality of the front door spoke volumes as to the relative wealth of the row home’s owner. Other than the doors, the homes were virtually identical three-story row homes with small front porches uniformly scrubbed to an almost painful level of cleanliness. The immaculate porch steps were all surrounded by small flowering shrubs.

  But the interior of this particular row home had been extensively renovated to convert it into a club-house and business headquarters. Just past the front door were the stairs that led to the second-floor bar and private club. Another door, just to the left of the stairs, opened into a large room created by combining the original living and dining rooms. Partitions divided this area into two small offices and a large conference room. On the far side of the office/conference room was a door leading to the kitchen.

  The owners of the row home were meeting in the conference area. The group, who called themselves the Skimmers, were discussing the financial status of their projects. The group’s leader, a well-dressed, middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard, was holding the floor.

  “In summary, our projects this past quarter have continued their prior levels of profitability. This quarter, we’ve deposited $2,735,000 in our bank in Switzerland. Since this is the end of our fiscal year, the board has again decided to issue checks to each of us in the amount of $50,000. Once again, this amount is, as we all agreed, just a draw on our individual shares of the total. As always, the money will be broken into a group of smaller checks so that they don’t come to the notice of the banks or anyone investigating us. Are there any questions?”

  He looked around the table. Beside himself, there were nine men and two woman present. One of the woman sat to one side at a desk, keeping notes and assisting the chairman with financial information.

  One of the men at the table raised a hand and said, “Yeah, I do have a question. Do you have any thoughts as to how long we’re gonna keep skimming? That FBI investigation got a couple of us nervous. Besides, we have enough set aside now to let us all live wonderful lives. I’d hate to overplay our hand and lose it all.”

  The bearded man smiled at him. “John, I’m in total agreement with you. The last ship in the Navy’s modernization program is going to leave the shipyard in a few months. The ships in that program were the ‘big bucks’ ships. When they’re done, the shipyard will revert to regular overhaul work, and their funding will be tighter and more closely managed. So I think we should gradually taper off our skimming so that no abrupt changes are noticeable. By the end of this year, I recommend that we be out of business.”

  That announcement caused a commotion at the table. Everyone was suddenly excited and talking. The bearded man let them talk for a short time, and then he clapped his hands for attention.

  “Okay everyone, the other part of this decision is that we’ll be dividing the money in the Swiss account equally among us. Marie, can you tell us the value of our shares right now?” The woman at the desk shuffled some papers and then looked up. “As of today, each of our shares is worth about 6.36 million dollars.”

  After making this announcement, Marie rose and went around the table, refilling the participants’ glasses with iced tea from pitchers she had placed on the table before the meeting started. As she walked past the bearded man, he ran his hand up her leg under her skirt. She jumped away and glared at him as he chortled, assuming that everyone at the table saw how humorous his action was.

  Without even looking at the mortified Marie, the bearded man continued speaking. “I guess you could say that we’re all wealthy people. But we have to watch our butts and do this carefully. Over the next few months, I’m going to have Marie set up individual Swiss bank accounts for each of us. At the end of our run in the shipyard, she’ll close out the master account. By that time, all of the money in the master account will have been transferred into our individual accounts. This will be done slowly so that no watchdogs are alerted. By the time we finish up in the shipyard and have the money transferred, I anticipate that each of us will have a total of around seven million dollars in our personal accounts.”

  He paused to take a sip from his iced tea and then went on, “Over the next few months, Marie and I are going to hold some evening classes here for you. Up to now, we’ve maintained excellent discipline in our financial lives. We’ve all lived the lives that people expect from shipyard workers and haven’t let anyone see our real finances. But that’s going to be much harder when we’re all suddenly millionaires. At that point, it will be even more vital that we all keep our cool and work smart with this money. I can’t emphasize this enough. Our lives can be either very, very good, or we can all end up behind bars. That will depend on each of you and how you live your lives from here on out. We’ll be holding these classes in the evenings to teach you about Swiss bank accounts and the art of discreetly moving money on an international basis. I’ll call each of you to arrange a class schedule. Now, are there any more questions or can we go upstairs and have a few drinks?”

  It was soon apparent that no one had anything to say right now, so the bearded man declared the meeting over.

  But as he dismissed them, he had a final warning. “One more thing, everyone. There’s something that I must say while we’re still in a formal meeting.” Everyone’s attention was suddenly riveted on him.

  “For the past years, our discipline has been rooted in the fact that we’ve all sworn that we would permanently remove anyone who stepped out of line and endangered the rest of us. We all know what happened to our old friend, George Carter. I want to say, here and now, that this policy will never change. If you think that we are going to let you go hog-wild when you get your millions, think again. Never forget that if you endanger us, we will remove the danger. Do you all understand this fact? I want this to be crystal-clear to everyone.”

  Suddenly sober, the group looked at one another for a serious moment before voicing their agreement. They were a hand-picked group, and none of them would have a qualm about performing the “removal” should it be deemed necessary.

  Lee and Maggie wasted no time on the road after leaving Georgetown. They drove straight through, taking I-95 directly to Philadelphia. When they arrived, Lee steered the car through the downtown traffic to the Warwick Hotel, a beautiful old hotel on prestigious Rittenhouse Square.

  After registering and leaving their bags unopened in the room, the two went to the Warwick’s restaurant for lunch. They both wanted to explore the city, but first they had to eat. The three-hour drive from Georgetown had left them famished.

  Walking through the lobby, they were both amazed at the beauty of the old hotel. There were exotic hardwoods and marble everywhere. Finally, they made their way to the restaurant, where Lee suddenly stopped short, causing Maggie to bump into him.

  “What is it, Lee? Do you see someone?” She was almost expecting another Tony Bruno encounter, or something similar.

  “No, Mag. Just got hit by an old memory. I didn’t remember it until just now, but my parents used to bring me here when I was just a boy. We would come here for brunch on Easter morning. The hotel would have ice sculptures everywhere and a huge buffet among the sculptures. I had forgotten all of this.”

  Looking up at him, she suddenly realized that tears were running down his cheeks. Grabbing his arm, she led him away from the restaurant to a nearby sitting area that was somewhat isolated. They took a seat, and Lee wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. After a while, he composed himself enough to speak.

  “My God, Maggie, I’m sorry. I had no idea that my history would come back to haunt me, especially not here in this old hotel. Except for that first day after my parents died, this is the only time I’ve ever cried over them. Somehow the
memories just flooded in on me. I must’ve been bottling them up for years. Suddenly I remembered the fun things, the nice things, that we did together, and I just couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry.”

  Maggie just hugged him. If he could have seen her face, he would have seen that she was also crying, her tears falling unashamedly.

  “Shut up, you idiot. I’ve never loved you more than I do at this minute. Hell, I just found out that you’re really human after all. I love you.”

  He pulled back, astonished. “You’ve never said that before, Maggie. I’ve told you a hundred times that I love you, and you’ve never said it. Dammit! I should’ve started bawling sooner!”

  He was smiling down at her now. “I’m gonna say it again Mag. I love you, and I want you to be my wife. Please say yes?”

  She pulled farther back from him. “This time, my friend, I’m not going to say no. But I don’t want to go all the way either. Let’s get through this shipyard nightmare before we make any big decisions.” Then, smiling, she added, “Heck, we don’t have time enough for a honeymoon right now anyway. I have to fly out tomorrow.”

  He smiled, a smile that lit up his whole face. “You’ve made me a happy man. I’m going to get this job done as fast as I can do it. Then we can get our life started.”

  They never got to explore Philadelphia that day. They ate and went back to their room, where their explorations were more sensual than historical. It was their last day together on this trip, so they made the best use of their time that they could. They were in love.

  That evening, while Lee and Maggie were ordering room service at the Warwick Hotel, a meeting was being held in a mansion on the Philadelphia Main Line. This home resembled, in many ways, the opulence of the Warwick. It was ornate in the manner of many turn-of-the-century mansions, finished in marble and hardwood with expensive artwork displayed everywhere. This was the home of a very wealthy individual, and it showed. Except for one room, the home had been carefully maintained in its original nineteenth century configuration.

  The modified room had once been a small ballroom, but was now divided into a very large conference room and an adjoining electronic center. The electronics center was massive, with an incredible array of office and communications equipment. Huge blueprint copiers and normal copying machines were intermingled with microfiche equipment, and numerous printers of obscure purpose and design. One entire wall was covered with a huge bank of electronic cabinets, many of which looked suspiciously like a shipboard communication center.

  Even this room was beautifully paneled and was graced with magnificent artwork. The conference table and chairs were exquisitely carved of imported mahogany.

  The room was normally locked and alarmed.

  The conference that was about to start in this room was being chaired by an older, very distinguished-appearing gentleman. His diction and sentence structure revealed that he was highly educated and his bearing left no doubt as to who was in charge of this group. Gathered around the table were two men and two women, all much younger than the chairman. The eldest of the men was tall and thin, with piercing blue eyes. The second man was stocky and blonde, with a ruddy complexion and soft blue eyes. The two women were blonde, tall, and athletic-appearing, with a strong family resemblance to one another.

  When they had all taken their seats, the older gentleman opened the meeting. “I know that it isn’t time for our quarterly meeting, but I’ve been informed of something that concerns me. This is a one-subject meeting. Therefore, we’ll pass on the usual reading of the minutes. We will still hold our regular meeting as scheduled next month. Does everyone understand?”

  The assembled group answered almost as one. “Yes, Papa.”

  “Very well, here’s the problem that brings us together today. I’ve been informed that the FBI has been asking questions regarding three recent Navy yard deaths. They appear to think that the killings of those dead people may be linked to one another. The investigators are, according to my sources, not too sure of their facts. But they are investigating.”

  One of the women spoke up then, speaking with a typical South Philadelphia twang in her voice. “Papa, they were in the shipyard a few months ago asking a lot of questions about ship overhaul cost overruns. It appeared that the Skimmers diverted them successfully. They’re totally clueless on both our business and that of the Skimmers, from what I could see at that time.”

  The older man nodded. “Yes. I know about that. But this could become a much more intensive investigation. If they think there are murders occurring, they’ll continue to investigate, and they do know how to investigate murders. A murder won’t be as foreign to them as the shipyard finances were.”

  He paused again before continuing, “We know they’re concerned about the shipyard’s cost escalations, so they’re suspicious that something like the Skimmer operation may be operating there. But so far they don’t seem to have any concept that our organization exists. We need to keep it this way. Let me emphasize this. Keep them away from our real mission at all costs. I don’t think that I need to belabor this, do I?”

  The three at the table all shook their heads. “No, Papa.”

  The older man continued, “But, aside from all of that, what concerns me about the present situation is the fact that they have apparently been tipped off about these murders by someone in the employ of Anthony Bruno.”

  This statement had its desired effect. The three people at the table erupted with a chorus of exclamations. The chairman held up his hand for quiet and the group went silent instantly. There was no question as to who was in charge of this assembly.

  “I don’t know if this is a fact or just something that the FBI is planting as a diversion. Maybe they just want to get the Skimmers into a fight with the mob, but I don’t think so. I think that it’s more likely that some low-level Mafia stooge spouted this theory about a bunch of connected killings in order to get them off his own neck.” He paused to let his words settle a bit.

  The group looked at one another, but they knew better than to talk when Papa was giving them his thoughts on a matter. After a long moment, he continued, “This thing is just too close to home for comfort. That’s why you’re all here today. I want you to be very careful in the near future. I’ve studied the FBI and their procedures. I believe that I know how they think, and I’m worried. The Skimmers were successful at getting them out of the shipyard a few months ago, but this rumor about the killings will probably bring them back. This time they won’t be as easy to dispose of as they were before. In fact, I think they will try to put undercover people on the job. That’s one of their standard procedures.” He paused. “Now I’d like to hear your thoughts on this.”

  A long quiet came over the group. Each person was silently analyzing the words of the chairman against what they knew of the operation. Finally, the stocky man spoke. “Papa, you may be right. But it would be hard to put anyone in the shipyard as a worker. There’s a hiring freeze on right now and, even if someone from the outside were hired, they’d stand out like a sore thumb. Plus, a new hire wouldn’t have the expertise to understand our business.”

  The same woman who had spoken before immediately took exception to this comment. “I don’t think we can just assume that this is true. I agree that it would be virtually impossible to bring in a new hire, but there are people who transfer from other shipyards fairly regularly. Plus, they may be looking at it from the murder angle this time, so they may try to infiltrate the shipyard police or even the Philadelphia police force. We can’t assume that they won’t get in our knickers just because the shipyard is so much of a closed shop.”

  The chairman nodded his approval at her comment. “This is the correct way to think about this situation. Be suspicious of everyone. All of you need to put on your thinking caps and be very alert. Those of you with official work places in the shipyard will need to be alert for any possible place that the FBI may try to penetrate. If you’re doing your jobs, we’ll know when an intruder e
merges. That’s why I brought you together today. Think about this, and don’t be afraid to share your thoughts. We cannot afford to let an undercover agent figure out what we’re doing. Go back to your homes and jobs now, but be alert.”

  One of the ladies at the table appeared confused at this abrupt dismissal and spoke up now. “Papa, what do you want us to do if we find one of these undercover people?”

  The old man had been rising from his chair as the woman spoke, but now he sat back down. “Good point. Here are my thoughts. If you find one of them, watch him. If he is getting too close, and you have the time, come to me and I will alert Marita.” He nodded at the woman who had been silent so far. “Marita will get the word to the Skimmers and will encourage them to get rid of the intruder. We’ve been successful in using the Skimmers this way in the past, and it keeps our hands clean. But if you’re in a bad situation and you think our operation is in danger, take emergency action and dispose of the intruder. Try to make it as innocuous as possible, maybe a drowning in the Delaware River or an automobile accident, but take care of business. Kill them.”

  Again he paused, then continued speaking. “But keep in mind that under no circumstances are you to reveal our real purpose in being in either the shipyard or the Pentagon. This is vital. If we have to, we’ll let them catch the Skimmers. We may even have to sacrifice ourselves to protect our mission. But that won’t be necessary if we stick to our plans. Let the thieves take responsibility for the stealing, and, if possible, let them continue to do the killing. But do not reveal our true mission!”

  The tall man, Fedya, spoke up then. “Papa, you always say ‘the Pentagon,’ but I don’t work there. I work in Crystal City, in the Navy Electronic Systems Command. It’s close to the Pentagon, but not actually part of it.”

  “I know, I know. But it’s all part of the same obscene military mess down there. A mess, I might add, dedicated to the perpetuation of this horrible government that suppresses people for the benefit of a few high-level thieves. A government that encourages the slavery of the masses while claiming that everyone here is free.”