“Kevin, can you free yourself?” he asks.
“Sure Len. What’s the latest?”
“Get your ass over her, pronto. It’s taken several hours, but we got a plan.”
“You bet. I’ll be there right away.”
I grab a cab and am there in minutes, just beating rush hour. His assistant brings me into his office and I plop down in front of his desk.
“Hope it’s good news. I need some, Len.”
“It’s really good news, been working on it all afternoon,” he says with a smile.
“Shoot.”
“Remember, you’re in a police station. No shooting.”
“Christ, Len, tell me.”
“Okay,” he says with more than a hint of pride, his chiseled face beaming. “You’ve got to be one of the luckiest people on earth. I went after the DEA, and because your problem with Allison’s kidnapping allows you to speak with the cartel guys, they’re willing to do something that is almost unheard of.”
“Yes, what?”
“They are going to temporarily give you the dope back.”
“No shit?”
“Yep, I’m not sure it will be all twenty-four bags, but enough to be able to show those guys that you got it and will give it to them in exchange for Allison’s release.”
“Jesus, Len, how did you pull it off?”
“Well, I got to know these guys real well both during and after the meeting with you. Seems they have been thwarted in finding out where the New York cartel headquarters is for the longest time, and now they feel like you can lead them there. They want your and my cooperation, and they’re willing to risk that dope as bait to not only find their offices, but especially to blow open the lost bag program.”
“So you’re saying that my asinine response to José is the plan and that the dope will be in a suitcase in the back of the cab?”
“Not any suitcase, the one you stashed in Fort Worth. In addition, the cab will be fitted with a transmitter to lead us to their headquarters, but probably not where they are keeping Allison. But now you will be in a position to demand her release. In the meantime, we, the DEA, and the FBI will be doing our thing.”
“I’m floored. I didn’t even think of doing the real thing. I thought maybe we could fake it somehow, but that’s because I’m not a cop and you guys are. What a relief. So if or when José calls tomorrow, your plan, Len, or the DEA’s plan will be ready to go?”
“Yep, they’re setting it up with me first thing in the morning, and it’s your job to let us know the time as soon as you hear from your guy because we want as much advance final planning as possible. Go home and get a good night’s sleep and maybe you’ll get lucky and hear from him tonight. He has your home number, right?”
“Yes, and he also has my beeper number.” I pull it off my belt and wave it.
“Good, so if you get a call tonight, call me at home or on my beeper.”
With that, I shake his hand with both of mine and thank Len profusely and then buoyantly hurry home.
Eighteen
The television hasn’t been repaired yet as I sit down in the living room with a Dewar’s on the rocks with a twist and water. Not having an immediate lucid thought, I reflect on my drinking habits, a pleasant but temporary respite from my all hands on deck emergency condition of late. This nonsense reflection is due to the tremendous relief of being able to produce the ransom for Allison’s release. It may be crazy, but I have thoughts about being careful about my drinking habits and this is one of those times.
First of all, I am of Irish descent, and that makes me susceptible to alcoholism. For some uncertain reason, Ireland has, if not in fact, in reputation, the highest number of alcoholics per capita on the planet. Many of my friends and family of Irish descent dispute that assertion by claiming that the Irish are one of the most gregarious people on earth and as such have made the pub the public place where they consume the greatest amount of their alcohol.
They do so because they enjoy company, love to sing together, are great storytellers, and love to rib each other in a way that has a name to it, called “craic.” Craic means joking among friends and casting good natured aspersion toward those friends, and even toward oneself, through self deprecating humor, displaying the legendary Irish wit all in good fun and powered by the drink. Besides, say these defenders, in most of Ireland, even today, alcohol is not a staple in most homes, and so their reputation as heavy drinkers is mistakenly earned as apart from, for instance, in the United States, where nightly the breadwinner gets hammered in their own home.
Still and all, the Irish themselves, despite loving the pub atmosphere for all of those reasons, have come up with slogans and sayings about the dangers of alcohol that are carefully passed down to the next generation. And I suppose the wisdom is passed down because of the inherited susceptibility of alcoholism in the Irish, as discovered by more than a few researchers into the subject. Those research findings also extend to the Irish immigrant population in the United States in comparison with other nationalities.
Nevertheless, one of my distinctive personal safety measures is that I refuse to ever drink alcohol straight, or neat, as they say. In my early days, that is, when I was over twenty-one, I drank blended whiskey such as Canadian Club with ginger ale. I did so because when my parents had an occasional drink with friends at rare times in the home, that’s what they drank. I soon found out that the sugar in the ginger ale was a hangover inducer, as was blended liquor, and I switched to unblended scotch with plain water instead. And as I sip my Dewars and water, I think about the warnings of my forbears, such as “the man takes the drink until the drink takes the man” and I am forewarned, but also calmed, until the phone rings and startles me into emergency mode once again.
It is, I’m hoping to hear, José. Score another one for Tommy.
“Kevin Logan,” I announce.”
“Señor Logan, you will be prepared to deliver my merchandise by noontime at your suggested location?”
“Yes, definitely,” I reply assuredly.
“Good, I will meet you there, but you need to hear the following instructions.”
“Okay, go ahead, I’m listening.”
“You will be at the zoo entrance, near the phones.”
“Yes.”
“You will wear a white shirt with an orange tie and an orange handkerchief.”
“I’ll have to get that, but okay. Anything else?”
“Yes, wear a Stetson type hat. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, no problem.”
“All right. I will meet with you tomorrow then and receive my merchandise.”
“Only, José, if I talk directly to Allison. Otherwise, there will be no merchandise.”
“You will talk to her, and you will deliver my merchandise alone, with no police. Is that clear?”
“Yes, it is clear. I will be alone.”
“You’d better be.” And he was gone.
Several minutes go by as I take in all the ramifications of that phone call. I take a large swig of my drink and immediately think about my instructions. An orange tie and pocket hanky, along with a Stetson, and I wonder where I can make such a ridiculous purchase. Not to worry, I have my Margie and will ask her first thing in the morning. She will know. As I contemplate all of the possible scenarios, the phone rings again. Who could possibly be calling me now? I’m irritated because I want to talk to Len. It must be José forgetting some further instructions.
“Kevin Logan,” I say defensively.
“Okay, Kevin, you got what you wanted.”
“Len, is that you? What do you mean?”
“José came through as I thought he might.”
“How do you know? I was just about to call you.”
“We’ve had a twenty-four hour tap on your phone, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, its hard to keep track. Again, I’d make a lousy cop.”
“Well, we have everything down. I don’t want to say much tonight, I’d rat
her go over it in the morning. Will you be in your office at eight?”
“I’d be in at five if you want, but yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
I leave a voice message on Margie’s recorder to be in at eight a.m., do some housekeeping, and retire early. Tomorrow is one of the bigger days of my adult life.
I’m up at six-thirty and in the office at seven-thirty. In the several years of working for Harrison, I have never been in at this godforsaken hour, as the cleaning crew is just preparing to leave after their all-night shift. There’s the receptionist and a couple of office secretaries greeting me with a surprised good morning, and as they’re recovering, Margie walks in. I give her my credit card and the purchase instructions for the three items.
“Mr. Logan, I always thought you were a sharp dresser, but now I’m not so sure. Orange?”
“It’s the color used in most oceanographic items, such as semaphore flags, life jackets, and life preservers, as well as highway construction cones, smarty. It’s not fashion, it’s used to stand out.”
“Okay, sir, I’m sure you’ll stand out. Do you want the hat in orange, too?”
“I’m glad you’re lightening things up, Margie, I appreciate it. And no, gray with a black band, size seven and a quarter will be just fine.”
“Yes, sir, I’m on it, and it’ll be about an hour.”
As she leaves, Len is on the phone. “Morning, Kevin. You ready to roll?” asks all cop-business Len.
“Go ahead, Len, I’m at my desk with a legal pad in front of me. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Good. You’ll only have one chance and there’s no rehearsal, so you got to get it right. Understood?”
“I understand. Give it to me slow and steady, and I’ll interrupt you only if I think I missed something. Okay?”
Len continues, “All right, this is the hardest part. You do have to be careful cause you can’t tip José off with your body language. That’s not to say you can’t appear nervous, you can be, because your friend’s life is at stake. You need to be an actor, however, to deliver your lines, but above all you can’t appear practiced. Got that?”
“Yep, can be nervous, but can’t be practiced. Okay. But be aware of sounding phony.”
“Exactly. You’ve got to be demanding in wanting to talk to Allison, and let José know you won’t listen to any bullshit about her, you only want to hear it from her directly. Also, don’t engage for one second in any conversation about where the dope is, even if he asks only for confirmation of what you have previously told him. Stop him right there. You should only be fixated on Allison, otherwise you might tip him off that you rehearsed, got it?”
“Yea, I’ve got to act naturally and to do so, I have to show my repressed anger at him as the representative of what they’ve done to her or what they might do.”
“Good, you’ve got it. That’s the way to come across. Then I’m presuming when you do that, he will make the call and then hand the phone to you to speak to her. Now, George and I have told you this before, but it’s worth repeating. Even though you want to hear every sound from her, her sighs of relief or pain or fright, besides what she says, you have got to attune yourself to background sounds. This is very, very important.”
“Len, stop right there. Background sounds like what? What am I looking for?”
“Anything that will help tell us where she is being held, like construction sounds, a jackhammer, a backhoe, traffic, horns beeping, or loud engine noises from trucks or airplanes. Maybe noises close to an airport or loud fans like in a warehouse. Anything at all to help us.”
“All right, I’ll remember and do my best.”
“Okay, once you have reassured Allison and promised her that you will get her out of there shortly, hang up. Immediately, José is going to ask for the ransom, the dope, as you promised. Now, this part, I don’t want you to get nervous, but you need to know.”
“Can’t get any worse, Len, go ahead.”
“Everybody has said it, and you’re most aware of it. While the dope is worth a lot of money, that’s not the most important thing to these guys. We’re guessing they are doing what we’re doing using the dope as bait.”
“Bait for what?”
“For you, for what you know.”
“I don’t want to hear it, but I’ve got to know that.”
“We have taken every precaution, including the taxi driver who is not really a driver, but a cop. That cop is going to be across the street in front of the Pierre Hotel. He will always be in the back of the pickup line, as if he’s waiting for a hotel guest. On the other hand, we are sure that several bad guys are watching you and José and after you make the call, you’re going to enter the most dangerous part of our plan. You’re going to find the taxi and show José the dope in the trunk. The tag number is OMT-4678. So we’ll be in the vicinity, Kev, but so will they. We have to be restrained because of Allison, so we’re just going to play it by ear, okay?”
“Everything was okay up to this point, but yeah, okay, cause you all know what you’re doing and I have to go along with it.”
“That’s it, Kevin, you’ve got your instructions, we will be prepared with ours. Good luck and unless you call us, we will not talk to you until after the transfer. All right?”
“Right, Len, over and out. Say a prayer.”
Margie returns from shopping with the Stetson and the orange tie and pocket hanky. I don’t ask her how she knows where to find things, I just accept that there are some skills that others have that I will never know, and I’m just grateful that I have the people who possess them.
I am already wearing a white shirt with a black suit, but I replace my tie and hanky for orange ones. I put on the Stetson and come out of my office and ask Margie what she thinks. Surprisingly, she says, “You know, you should continue to wear that hat, you look great in it, but the orange make you look like a pansy.” I don’t think she meant a flower, but something akin to a different lifestyle and I’m not offended.
My focus is on the transaction and I excuse myself and lock my office door, telling Margie that I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s a call from one of those people from the DEA, the FBI or the NYPD. I go over Len’s instructions, admonitions, and concerns time and time again. His comments about only one chance to get it right and no rehearsals resonates with me, as well as about my demeanor, body language, the talk with Allison, and especially the danger to both Allison and me.
I begin to have a deliberate conversation with myself as if there are two different people involved, one talking and the other listening. I tell myself again that there is no one but me that is able to carry this off.
Len, God bless him, has done a fantastic job from the moment I imposed upon him with my serious problem. At the risk of his job and career, he has been an ace assisting me despite that risk. Marshaling those organizations, giving me access to experts, going back to the DEA to set up the ransom is above and beyond anything anyone could expect. And now he has given me this script, which if I perform correctly, will free Allison, get those bastards, and release me from this nightmare I’ve been living for the last few weeks.
And Tommy, he’s the epitome of a true friend. Not one that fraternizes with you, or drinks with you, or goes to games with you. That’s an acquaintance. No, a real true friend is one that is there, really there when he’s desperately needed. Who is there to help you, to console you, and to assist you through problems when you need him? That’s the true definition of friendship, and while I am not pleased to have gone through it, I’m glad I had the opportunity to find out what it is.
And Allison, now my dearest companion and my love. How happy I am that I met her. How hopeful I’ve been that someday I would meet that special someone, and I have. Lord, help me to be strong enough to preserve this relationship for the chance of lifelong companionship.
And Kevin, you of the playboy, narcissistic lifestyle, pleasing only yourself per
haps at the expense of others, all the while insisting to yourself that you haven’t hurt anybody, that it’s an innocent lifestyle choice. Now it’s time to stand straight and tall and see what you’re made of, not with your looks or your intelligence, but with your heart in more ways than one. This is your defining moment. Are you up for it?
With that, I open the office door, say so long to Margie, and head for the elevator with hat in hand, literally and figuratively, and with my orange accessories screaming just figuratively. Surprisingly, it dawns on me that in this instance, it’s humility, not arrogance that also has to be part of my plan.
Nineteen
I check my watch as I get into the cab and say, “Pierre Hotel, please.” It’s a good twenty-four blocks from my office and fourteen from my humble address on Forty-Ninth. I assist my cabbie in telling him, “That’s Fifth above Fifty-Ninth,” as I specify the order.
“Yea, in the Sixty-Three block?”
I respond, “Yes sir,” as the cab heads north on Madison.
Settling into the cab, my single solitary and overwhelming thought is the choice between saving or endangering Allison. It may well be I should not be introducing those concepts in that perception about the upcoming confrontation. Nevertheless, those thoughts continue, but the best part is that choice has put me on all-hands alert to the extreme mode, and I will use that concern to fuel my mission.
It’s eleven-thirty as we glide to the curb at the front entrance. The doorman snaps to attention and opens the cab door before I could do so. ”Thanks,” I murmur, as I pay the cabbie, tip the doorman, and exit to an immediate left turn, ostensibly to go for my bags, but pulling my hat down and continuing across the street instead. The cab in front of me did have license ID OMT, but 4678 is not the number.
I wait for the light north of me and scurry across. I’m on the west side of Fifth Avenue, several blocks south of the zoo entrance. I turn north and touch my pockets reflectively, looking for an imaginary gun for comfort. It’s a stupid reaction because I’ve already had that discussion with Len and myself, and determined that carrying a gun was less protective of me and more of an opportunity to get killed, as in not knowing who has my back in their sights if I ever attempted to use one.
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