Lawless Measures_Vigilante_The Fight Continues

by Lyle O'Connor

  Kuhl loaded his hockey bag with his assembled .308-caliber rifle, wrapped himself warmly, and said, “Let’s do it.” I accompanied him to the north end fire exit of our motel, walked up one staircase to the landing that led to the flat roof. I prepared to bump the lock open on the roof access door when I noticed it was not secured. “One less thing to do,” I said as I opened the roof access.

  “Tell Bludd I’ll see him in thirty-seconds,” Kuhl said. I acknowledged with a nod, and I was on my way back down to the motel room. We put our ears on and made radio contact with Kuhl.

  The first radio traffic we picked up was, “I have two bogeys on the roof top, east and west.” Kuhl’s thermal scope was doing the job it was intended to do. We had turned off the lights in our motel room and watched the rooftop of the lounge. The exterior lights of the Double Decker were arrayed in a manner that limited us from seeing Kuhl’s bogeys from our room or from the ground view.

  “Prepare to launch 40 Mike-Mikes at the line.” Kuhl said. We loaded HE rounds in the M79s. It was now up to Bludd and me to coordinate our efforts for maximum damage. The M79s report was barely a whisper when launched. More than likely, the mobsters wouldn’t have a clue what hit them. When the grenades exploded, the mobsters might think it was a car bomb under one of the vehicles. If it confused them even slightly, I was all for it. We counted on the thugs of the sentry cars to be drawn into the action. The hierarchy inside would be pushed to the opposite side of the building from the explosions, and more or less over the top of where the Semtex explosives were located.

  Bludd and I had our headsets and awaited the ‘Go’ order. We opened the two-foot wide windows on either side of the large front room window, and poised, ready to fire. I would lead the countdown to synchronize our shots, Bludd would shoot for the west end which was seventy-five yards away, and I would shoot about twenty yards further in an attempt to hit midway on the line of cars. What I didn’t want to do was overshoot.

  “West end bogey is down,” Kuhl reported in a whisper. We had heard nothing and there were no visible reactions to his shot. Almost immediately Kuhl reported again, “East end bogey is down. Hit’em! I repeat hit’ em.”

  I counted down, “Three, Two, One,” and we fired the grenades. The explosions were simultaneous, or close enough, and incredibly loud. The sound of the explosions echoed off the rectangular mass of structures which encompassed the parking lot. Bludd and I loaded for a second volley. The front door to the lounge swung open, and two of the henchmen ran out in the direction of the line of vehicles. They no sooner had stopped by the corner of the building when the Double Decker ripped apart at the seams. Kuhl had detonated the plastic explosives. It didn’t flatten the building completely, but not much of the structure was left. My immediate guess was no one made it out of the meeting alive. The thugs and the sentry guards outside were down. One or two of them were rolling or moving slightly. They were low level players or they wouldn’t have been outside. If they lived through the attack, they should count themselves lucky. If they’d been part of the inner circle of trusted family members—they’d been slaughtered.

  Kuhl radioed he was inbound. Bludd stayed at the window on point.

  “The building is on fire!” Bludd called out.

  I waited by the door for the knock. I was anxious. A second felt like a minute, and a minute like an hour. I cracked the door and watched. A moment later he appeared at the end of the hall moving rapidly in my direction. Once in the room with the door closed Kuhl pulled his .308-caliber from the hockey bag and began to break it down and into the gun case.

  “I hear sirens in the distance,” Bludd said. “There are people out there helping the downed blokes in the lot.”

  “That’s okay, stick to the plan,” I said.

  “If you’re not wearing it, load it in the hockey bag. Everything!” Kuhl said.

  The M79s were light, and we only had cold weather gear which we wore. Once the gun case was put into the bag, we were ready to withdraw to the motel a block away.

  We went to the fire exit, straight down to the ground level which exited into the back parking area. We saw a young couple walking from the lot into a back door of the motel. We waited until they were out of sight. We were able to slip down an alleyway to Kuhl’s ground floor motel room.

  * * * * *

  We hunkered down for the next few days. We’d stocked up on food and water for the event. We watched the news coverage; it was a big deal. Nationwide coverage, and it continued as information leaked out. If we could get through the first forty-eight hours of the police investigation, our further withdrawal would be made easier.

  Chapter 17

  “There are no happy endings, not in this life”

  —Walter

  I placed a call to Max to let him know we’d kicked some tail. He wanted to get together for a full run down, but I nixed the idea. It wasn’t time to toast our wine glasses and slap each other on the back. It was time to be very small and quiet. News reports broke on the destruction of the Double Decker. Bludd stayed glued to the television watching for coverage while I found myself mildly disinterested in the reports. Who and how many was all I cared to know. Kuhl might have had the best idea and ignored the news. His interest was in activity on police radio bands.

  The Mob had people in journalism; a lot of them. We knew that. We also knew you couldn’t trust the accuracy of what was released to the public. Not even what the cops put out to the news agencies. Everything had a spin to it. You had to be naïve to have believed differently. Initial reports were confusing. Mobster names were mixed in with heroic actions of first responders. Two firefighters had been injured battling the blaze. One report focused on a recently discharged United States Army medic who had been instrumental in saving the life of an injured man in the parking lot. The injured man was later identified as an associate of the Abbandanza crime family. All interesting stuff, I suppose, but it was all smoke and mirrors as far as I was concerned. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, it led people from the knowledge of the truth about the Mob. Government agencies confirmed the blast was from an explosive device, but quick to dispel the rumor of terrorism. A conclusion jumped to by many since the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in NYC and Washington DC.

  The morning of the third day we began to shuttle our equipment to the Quonset hut. By mid-afternoon, our transfer was complete. I called Max. I wanted a meeting. We had ground to lay for our next target. I intended to further cripple their money flow. We felt it was their Achilles heel. Max insisted Anna had to be included in the meeting. I told him I didn’t care, and left it at that.

  Sunday, before we met with Max and Anna, Kuhl wanted to go to church. Not just any church, but Holy Family Cathedral in the northeast end of Black Rock. It wasn’t so much a religious thing with Kuhl, but more of an opportunity to visit the spiritual watering hole of some of the recently departed members of the crime family, and see if any of the familiar faces in our profile photos showed up at the service. I figured if they were still alive, they were hiding under a rock, and rightfully so because it wasn’t safe for them.

  This was capo Domenic Bacca’s jurisdiction. He held the strongest arm of the family and we’d hidden under his nose. Pembroke would have passed that along before he died, especially since he was affiliated with the Toronto faction. Bacca wouldn’t be too happy with us over that piece of trivia, and I intended for it to be leaked widely amongst his kind. If we couldn’t get to him, maybe some of his own people would. More importantly to Kuhl was Rocco Colansante, Consigliore and crime family CFO. Kuhl had his eye out to make Rocco the next target. You could never go wrong if you followed the money trail. One more boss was known to attend services at Black Rock. Salvatore Giannetti, the crime family’s “Capo dei capi.” I wanted him, but he was proving to be a tough target to catch up to. He was rarely seen, and we suspected well protected. I might have to become a devout church-goer after all, just to get a shot at the head mobster.

  B
ludd had parked curbside a hundred yards away from the church and let Kuhl walk. I was shotgun for this leg of the trip, and tried to keep an eye out for bad guys. But both eyes closed, and I dozed off. I’d gotten used to power naps; it was almost my only form of sleep anymore, and I could do them anywhere. I startled awake at one point. I sat up and in a panic.

  “You’re okay, mate. I have you covered,” Bludd said.

  Church let out, and there was a stream of people exiting the cathedral. After a few minutes what remained of the congregation lingered on or around the big double doors at the top of a wide set of steps. We watched Kuhl as he shook hands with people, and seemed to carry on a conversation with a couple of parishioners.

  When Kuhl got back to the Tahoe, we were eager for the report.

  “Let’s go,” Kuhl said with an urgent tone.

  I interpreted the seriousness by which Kuhl spoke to mean there was trouble afoot. I pulled my .40-caliber, press-checked the slide to insure I had a round in the chamber, and held it on my lap. We headed west from the church.

  Kuhl leaned forward and asked, “What did you see?”

  “You tell me.” I said as I turned to look into his face. “Why did you say let’s go like the house was on fire.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m hungry for some grub,” he said.

  I shared a few filthy expletives with the occupants of the Tahoe. It helped me to get back on track.

  Bludd asked Kuhl, “Who’d you see in the church?”

  “Nobody. They offered prayers for the families who lost loved ones in the bombing, and world peace. That sort of stuff.”

  “Nobody?” I said. “What about the people you were talking to outside and shaking hands with. Who were they?” I hoped he’d made contact with a crime family member or blood relationship to those who died. We might get the skinny on what’s going on behind the scenes.

  “Just some nice people, they didn’t say anything about the bombing.”

  It was twelve-forty-five when we pulled into the Village Restaurant; the prearranged destination for our meeting. We weren’t first to arrive for a change, Max and Anna were seated to the right from the main entrance. We had the corner booth. With its tuck and roll padded bench and matching semi-circle back, it was all very cozy. The kind of coziness a sardine felt in a can. I didn’t like it at all.

  Our waitress was quick, and hooked us up with drinks. Then took our food order. Max had a look about him that made me immediately question what was wrong. His expression of painfulness increased as he explained. “I received a call today from a gentleman who would like to meet with us and discuss an end to hostilities along the New York border.”

  “Who is it this time? A governor or a mayor?” It wasn’t sarcasm. I was dead serious.

  Max understood my concern. “I suppose you could say it is the residual effect of Talbot on the project. The man’s name is Vincent Telese. He referred to himself as a spokesperson at one point, and a representative at another. He informed me he had been selected to make contact and attempt an arrangement of sorts to end the issue.”

  “A representative? “We don’t know what we’re dealing with, do we? Pembroke had both cops and mobsters in his pocket,” I said.

  “I suspect he is a Mob affiliate,” Max said.

  “How did he know to contact you? I asked. Something sparked my suspicious nature. “How did he get your phone number?”

  “Well, frankly, he was given my name and number by Talbot. He gave me the impression he had not talked to Talbot directly, but the information was filtered to him through someone else.”

  “Why are we talking with these grease balls? What can he offer us? Maybe he’ll give us a free get out of town card? What are we talking about here? Are we considering making a deal with the devil?” I asked.

  Max squirmed in his chair, “At some point we have to consider alternatives to killing and blowing everything up.”

  I didn’t like the sounds of that at all, but I knew it was coming.

  Max continued, “There are other issues to consider here. We might not have won everything, but the tide was sufficiently turned on their illegal immigration racket.”

  I looked for support to take a stand, but quickly realized there was none to be had. I could see it in their eyes; they were in agreement with Max. End this thing and move on.

  “What’s the down and dirty on where we’re going with the project?” I asked.

  “We have arranged for two representatives from either side to meet. Walter, why don’t you and Anna meet with them?” Max suggested.

  “I’ll meet with them,” I said, “but if he tries to bully us, I’m going to kill ’em on the spot.”

  Anna smiled. She knew I meant business. She also knew she should plan on going down that way.

  “Okay, set it up with Anna as spokesperson.” By their silence Kuhl and Bludd elected me their representative in this powwow. Max and Anna decided on a Christmas Day meeting. The call was made to Telese, and the tentative arrangement made. It was a go.

  Since no one had asked about the Rochester bombing, I figured they waited on me to bring it up. “You have undoubtedly followed the headlines on this event.” Anna and Max nodded. I continued, “We now have confirmation of the dead, Toronto’s kingpin Capo Santo De Luca, Capo Domenic Bacca of Buffalo, Toronto East End Lieutenant Marco Camerota, and the Rochester host, Capo Lucan “Spooky Luke” Russo.” Palatini smiled and exchanged glances with each other.

  “Another twelve soldiers inside, two soldiers outside and three associates in the parking lot have died,” Bludd added.

  “I will make it more if the deal goes south.” I didn’t want to leave anyone in doubt of where I stood. If Society Palatini was satisfied with how this project was ending, they’d set their sights too low. Absent was Rocco Colansante, CFO and third in the Abbandanza hierarchy. Why was he a no-show for such an important meeting? We didn’t know the answer. After the Double Decker Lounge went up in flames, we’d found out underboss, “Tough Tony” Giannetti, had landed back in jail on another drug charge. Salvatore Giannetti hadn’t been seen or heard from since I’d taken control of the project. The most likely scenario had been voiced by Kuhl, “The capos were there to make a plan to present to the hierarchy. We intervened in the process before it ever got that far.”

  * * * * *

  Christmas Day in Buffalo, I speculated on the headlines for the following day. Chicago had its St. Valentine’s Day massacre. What would Buffalos be? Christmas Day Annihilation had a nice ring to it. Anna picked me up in her jet-black Crown Vic before I could come to a conclusion as to what I thought would ring best in the newspaper.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “A luxury hotel in Niagara Falls. I’ve rented a room for the meeting.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “No agenda for the meeting. We’ll see what they have to offer.”

  “Go with the flow—got it.”

  “I’m not willing to make any agreements without the other’s input. We all have a stake in the outcome.”

  “I can,” I smiled as I drew my Glock and checked my magazine capacity to insure it was full. “If I have to, I can make a decision for you too.”

  Two-thirty on the dot, we rolled into the parking lot. The meeting was scheduled for two-thirty, and I was upset. I would never arrive late, but I kept my opinion to myself.

  We entered the lobby. I kept an eye out while Anna went through the process of checking in at the front desk. Vincent Telese was nowhere in sight. I didn’t know what he looked like, but you could tell from the behavior of those around us, there was no concern for who we were.

  Anna motioned to me to follow her to an elevator nestled near a back door exit. We rode to the seventh floor, and walked halfway down the hall to room seven-twenty. Anna ran the cardkey. The green light flashed, and Anna turned the handle. I pulled my .40-caliber up to the ready position. Anna looked both ways in the hallway, and said, “Put that
away.”

  Once inside, I did a quick scan of the rooms while Anna placed a call to Telese. She gave him the hotel and room number.

  “Okay, what’s up Anna?”

  “The arrangement I made with Telese was to wait by a diner two blocks from here, and I’d call him and provide directions at that point.”

  Anna placed another call where she repeated the name and address of the hotel and our room number.

  “That was Kuhl and Bludd. I had them watch from outside the same diner. I told them Telese and another man should be waiting inside…Walter, try not to be so suspicious. I have the matter in hand.”

  Anna’s cell phone rang. “Do you have them?” She asked. “Okay, great, see you soon.”

  As she disconnected her call, she said, “Seymour is tailing a vehicle that pulled out of the diner, carrying two men, heading in our direction.”

  “Where’s Kuhl? I asked.

  “He’ll be close by, watching the street for any developments.”

  “Do you really think these guys are coming alone?”

  “If they don’t, I have you to make the final decision.” Anna gave me a teddy bear hug and said, “Let’s get ready.”

  I figured I could talk from any angle. I moved around the room until I found the best feel for a gunfight. Two chairs sat diagonally opposite a small coffee table in front a large window which overlooked the city to the west. I asked Anna to unlock the door and have a seat. “Why don’t we wait for the knock and I’ll answer the door?” Anna said.