Fishtown: A Jack Regan/Izzy Ichowitz Novel

by Neal Goldstein

  “Wonder what the hell went on here?” Regan asked.

  Chapter 10

  The commanding officer of the Bensalem State Police barracks moved his team into place. They approached the door at Room 22, the last unit of the ten rooms at the rear of the Lincoln Motel. Heilman’s Cadillac was parked directly in front of the unit. There were no other vehicles in the back lot. A squad of police officers from Bensalem Township had been stationed behind the motel to make sure that anyone attempting to jump out the back window would not get away.

  “Police, open the door!” They could hear what sounded like a muffled response from inside the room. He signaled his men to use the ram to force the door open and followed the two troopers, with weapons drawn who ran into the room. They found a woman partially undressed siting on the floor with her back to an unconscious man. The couples’ hands had been bound with the cord from a lamp that from the blood smears on its base had apparently been used to assault the man. The woman had been gagged with what looked like her shirt.

  The troopers untied the woman and tended to the man who was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. They called for an ambulance, helped the woman up, removed the gag from her mouth and sat her on the bed. The Commanding Officer placed the thin blanket that lay on the bed around her shoulders.

  “What happened?” he asked the woman.

  She gave him a blank look in response.

  “Miss, are you hurt?”

  Again no response.

  He turned when he heard the woman’s companion groan and try to sit up.

  “Sir, please lie still. The EMTs are en route.”

  “That crazy mother fucker tried to kill us!”

  “Who tried to kill you?”

  “Brother Aaron.”

  “What happened to Brother Aaron? Where is he?”

  “Motherfuck stole my ride.”

  “The District received a report from the State Police that Heilman had fled from the Lincoln Motel before they had arrived. Apparently, Heilman’s escort’s ‘manager’ interrupted his date and Heilman knocked him unconscious with one of the motel room lamps. Anyway, Heilman stole the manager’s car and is now in the wind. If he keeps the car he shouldn’t be hard to find.” Regan was smiling as he summarized the report for Ichowitz.

  “What’s funny about Heilman’s avoiding apprehension?”

  “He’s driving a pink Lincoln town car with oversized chrome wheel covers that light up like a Christmas tree. It’s a classic ‘pimp mobile’. I guess Heilman thought his Caddy was too flashy so he chose to tone it down,” Regan laughed. “Anyway, we need to be alert to Heilman’s possibly stopping by the Church, assuming he evades the State Police and our Highway Patrol.”

  Ichowitz and Regan had returned to the cellar of the church in Fishtown after they finished interviewing McGowan, Mosato and Sherry Polanski. According to their statements, McGowan and Mosato had been held by Heilman for several days. Both had been repeatedly beaten and raped, and forced to watch each other having sex with Heilman. They said that Heilman had starved them, sometimes feeding them dog food. Both women also claimed that Sherry Polanski, who was initially one of Heilman’s captives had gained his confidence and was allowed to leave the cellar.

  Polanski corroborated the other victims’ statements. She told them that the first time Heilman allowed her to leave the church on her own she called 911 to report the crimes.

  None of the women saw any other ‘girls’ during their confinement, however, all of them said they heard Heilman having sex with other women from time to time. They never saw him kill anyone. They had no knowledge and never saw the bodies that had been discovered buried near the trench where Heilman had kept them as his prisoners.

  Ichowitz and Regan were looking for any physical evidence that corroborated their statements and could lead to Heilman’s apprehension. Was it possible that none of the women had witnessed the murders of the two women who had been buried there?

  “John, I’m having a hard time believing that none of the women, especially Polanski, saw anything that ties Heilman to the bodies. It just doesn’t feel right,” Ichowitz said as he paced around the room.

  “Did you hear that?” Regan asked.

  Ichowitz nodded. They both pulled their service revolvers from their holsters.

  Someone had entered the sanctuary. They listened to the joists in the ceiling above them creak as the intruder made his way to the cellar door.

  Chapter 11

  “Brother Aron, are you down there?”

  Ichowitz and Regan waited silently as the intruder stood in the doorway above them. Regan crouched in the ditch where the women had been held captive, Ichowitz stood in the shadows behind the stairwell. Both men pointed their service revolvers at the stairway as they waited for the man to descend.

  They watched as he cautiously made his way down the stairs and walked towards the door at the west end of the cellar that led to the tiled room where the police believed Heilman had tortured and perhaps murdered his captives. When he was six paces away from the stairs Ichowitz stepped behind him with his weapon drawn “Stop where you are and place your hands behind your head!”

  Regan stood up with his service revolver aimed directly at the intruder’s face with his shield in his other hand. “You heard the man, let’s see both hands behind your head! Now!”

  Ichowitz holstered his weapon, walked over and gently patted him down. He signaled to Regan and said, “He’s not armed.” Regan holstered his service revolver, stepped up out of the ditch and approached.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “I’m Jerry Kastanski, I’m here to collect the rent.”

  Ichowitz and Regan looked at one another.

  “Didn’t you see the yellow crime scene tape on the front door?” Regan asked.

  “No sir. There wasn’t anything on the door.” Again Ichowitz and Regan looked at one another.

  “How did you get in?”

  “I have a key,” he said and reached for his pocket. Ichowitz placed his hand on his arm and said, “Very slowly.”

  He nodded, slowly pulled a key ring with several keys from his pocket and pointed to the key to the front door of the church.

  “Have you ever been in the church cellar before?” Ichowitz asked.

  He hesitated before answering, “Not since the Church opened.”

  Ichowitz and Regan questioned him and learned that he was the 27 year old nephew of Paul Kastanski Junior, who owned the former butcher shop and the slaughterhouse on Delaware Avenue and other properties in Fishtown. He told them that he was responsible to collect the rents and keep an eye on his uncle’s properties.

  He claimed he had no idea what was going on at the Ministries of God. All he did was collect the rent. When they asked him about women being held captive, Kastanski responded that the word on the street was that Brother Aron liked the girls on the stroll on Frankford Ave; but he denied hearing anything about Heilman holding them captive or anything like that.

  When Ichowitz and Regan finished questioning Kastanski they escorted him out of the building. Just as he had claimed, they saw that the yellow crime scene tape had been removed. Remnants of the tape were blowing in the breeze with other debris that had been left in the gutter along Frankford Avenue.

  “So what do you think about Mr. Kastanski?”

  Ichowitz thought it over before he answered. “So far, the only thing he told us that checked out is that someone removed the crime scene tape.” He shook his head, “There’s something about that bird that doesn’t fly right. Did you notice he never made eye contact? And he was trembling, I thought he was going to wet himself. We’ll have to check out his story after we get Heilman in custody.”

  Regan nodded, “I hear you.”

  They looked around the property to see if there was any evidence that established
how the crime scene warning tape had been removed. Regan waved for Ichowitz to join him near the alley behind the church. He upholstered his service revolver and waited for his partner to join him. Ichowitz approached the corner and took a quick look down the alley. A pink Lincoln Continental with oversized chrome wheels was parked behind the church. It matched the description of the vehicle Heilman had stolen from the prostitute’s pimp. Ichowitz unholstered his service revolver and signaled Regan to move closer.

  Regan crouched low and slowly approached the vehicle; Ichowitz watched for any sign of movement inside the car. “Clear,” Regan shouted after shining a pen light flashlight through the passenger side windows of the Lincoln. He put his hand on the hood and said, “It’s still warm. Heilman may be nearby, call for back-up.”

  Less than 2 minutes later they could hear sirens approaching from all directions. Detective Sammy Boyle parked his unmarked Ford sedan next to where Ichowitz and Regan were standing at the entrance to the alley.

  “We got guys searching the six block radius around the church. If Heilman’s still here we’ll find him,” Boyle told them. “Put on your vests so we can move out if we get a call. This guy could be armed.”

  Boyle was monitoring the search on the open frequency. “Let’s go boys. I think our guys have found the ‘good brother.’” Boyle put the red dome light on his car, hit the siren and stomped hard on the gas pedal. The powerful oversized police special engine lunged the vehicle forward and the rear wheels squealed laying rubber on the asphalt. He fishtailed as he made a U-turn on Girard Avenue and headed east. Ichowitz and Regan had barely enough time to secure their seat belts as their bodies were alternately thrown forward and backwards and side to side from the high speed manouvres.

  Boyle screeched to a stop on Front Street at the vacant lot across from the Tip Top Playground under the elevated feeder road to the I-95 highway. Five uniformed officers, two from the canine unit with their dogs barking loudly and the others with their service revolvers drawn, surrounded a man wearing an oversized leather jacket whose back was against a 10 foot high chain link fence with tendrils of overgrown vegetation pushing through the holes.

  “Hands! Let’s see both hands!” One of the officers shouted.

  Within seconds they had Aron Heilman handcuffed and hustled him to the cruiser as the police dogs continued to bark and growl.

  “Good work,” Boyle said to the officers. He turned to Ichowitz, “Should we take him to Homicide?”

  “No Sammy, let your guys get credit for the collar. Take him to the 26th District. As of now, we can book him for aggravated assault and other charges related to his holding the hookers in the church basement. We need to tie him to the buried bodies we found before we can charge him with homicide,” Ichowitz replied. “Let’s slow this down and get it right.”

  “Jerry did you collect the rent from the church man?”

  “No Ma.”

  She fixed her mean eyes on him, “What do you mean you can’t even do something as simple as collecting the rent. You’re just as worthless as your father.”

  “Ma the police were at the church. They asked me about Brother Aron and if I knew anything about him and the girls on Frankford Ave.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them I didn’t know anything about that.”

  “Good, I don’t want you having anything to do with him and whatever he’s doing over there. He’s like Satan, and the women he keeps company with are wicked,” she paused and stared at him. “You didn’t have anything to do with those girls, did you? I warned you the last time to stay away from the whores.”

  He looked down at his shoes, “No Ma.”

  “Come here boy.”

  He walked over to his mother with his head still down.

  “Look at me.”

  He looked up and she slapped his face. “You’re lying. You’re just like your father, a liar and worse. Now tell me what you did.”

  He raised his head and averted his eyes from her. She slapped him again.

  When she tired of the standoff she said, “We’ll talk about this some other time. Now go to the store and get me a pack of cigarettes. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

  “What brand do you want?”

  “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head.

  “Never mind. Just like I said, you’re as worthless as your father.”

  Four Months Earlier

  She could sense that someone had entered the room. She could tell from his scent that it was not Brother Aron. She waited. After several seconds, minutes, hours had passed, when she was sure Brother Aron wasn’t there she whispered, “Please help us.”

  Silence.

  “I know you’re there. For the love of God, help us,” she begged.

  Finally she heard soft footsteps approaching. When he got close she could see that he was a young man. She tried to make eye contact with him, but he looked away.

  “Who are you?”

  He shook his head and put his fingers on her lips. He removed her handcuffs and leg shackles. “Help me free your friend.”

  The other woman was semi-conscious and she helped him remove the restraints and carry her up the stairs. He unlocked the back door.

  She took a deep breath of the fresh air and wanted to cry. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Someplace safe.”

  They slowly made their way down the alley, half carrying the woman who could barely walk. They walked several blocks to the back of an apartment building, entered the back door and climbed the stairs to the third floor. He unlocked the apartment door and put the keys on the kitchen table. “There’s food and water and bandages. I brought you some clean clothes too.”

  She looked around the room searching for the trap.

  “You don’t have to stay here. You’re free to go if you want to,” he said sensing her discomfort.

  She smiled at him.

  He gave her some water and she placed her hand on his.

  “Thank you.”

  He blushed. “Your friend doesn’t look good. Maybe we should take her to the hospital.”

  She walked over to the other woman and slapped her face, “B, you alright?”

  The other woman opened her eyes and looked around, “Where the fuck are we?” When she saw the man she shrank back.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “That rotten mother fucker kept her drugged up. She’s going through withdrawal.”

  “You sure she’s going to be OK?”

  She nodded.

  “I have to go now. Take care of your friend.”

  “Will you be back?”

  He nodded.

  “Does he know where we are?”

  He shook his head and left.

  Chapter 12

  The Present

  Special Agent Rico Valdez knocked on the door to his office. Regan looked up and smiled, “Rico what brings you up town? I haven’t seen you since our Cuban adventure.”

  “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. In a couple hours the president is going to address the nation with news that our guys have removed Ayman al-Zawanhiri from the field. So, it appears the information Nooris and Rabinowitz provided was the final piece of the puzzle we needed to nail that bastard.

  My boss told me the AG insists that we honor the deal and release those scumbags. The Israelis are going to be there and take them into custody.”

  Jack could hear the hesitation in his voice, “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know, it’s just that there’s lots of moving parts to this and Nooris and his buddy are two slick operators,” he paused. “On the flight home you said that you thought Nooris had an angle you just couldn’t figure out. Have you come up with anything?”

  “Not really. But I know for damn sure we were
being played. I’ll sleep a whole lot better when those two are back in Israel.”

  “Me too. I just hope nobody drops the ball,” Valdez was referring to the screw up his agency had committed that resulted in Nooris and Rabinowitz’ previous escape. “Anyways once the Agency gets what it needs, its operatives lose interest and move on to the next thing.

  You and Izzy need to be aware that even if Nooris and Rabinowitz get to Israel, there’s no guarantee they’ll stay there. My boss and I are less than confident Nooris was sincere in his apology for what went down at Coratelli’s house. So be careful.”

  “Speaking of that, do you have any information on Flynn’s whereabouts?” Regan asked.

  “Nada. He’s in the wind. According to the Gardai, the Flynns have more or less gone legit. But I wouldn’t bet the farm on that. They’re pretty crafty miscreants, if you ask me. Anyways, from how it ended when Flynn shot Nooris and Rabinowitz, no one in my office is hot to track Michael Flynn down.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up Rico.”

  Just what I need he thought after Valdez left, Nooris and his accomplice somehow getting on the loose again. He had already agreed to second chair the Martison trial and knew that Susan would be pissed if he backed out now. He could kiss her endorsement goodbye if he left town, but on the plus side he could side step the whole quagmire of the abortion issue that was surely going to taint everyone involved with the case.

  When he got home that evening he told Kate that Nooris and Rabinowitz were going to be released from Guantanamo Bay. “Let’s the three of us get on a plane to Jamaica first thing tomorrow.”

  “But I thought you told your boss you were going to cover that trial you were tellin me about.”

  He nodded, “I did, but I’m having second thoughts.”

  She studied his face and asked, “Are you sure that’s all this change of plans is about?”