Once a Thief (Gentleman Jack Burdette Book 3)

by Dale M. Nelson

  Castro may have started as a noble cop, but he didn’t end that way. Eventually, the pervasive corruption of Italian law enforcement got to him as well and he ended up on the Cannizzaro payroll. His job was to keep his agency, the Italian financial police, away from the Commerce Bank of Rome. Castro, again, spared his old friend’s life and spirited Jack away from the bank after that botched heist that Aleksander Andelić orchestrated.

  Jack wanted to believe that Castro was bucking the Cannizzaros, had regained some measure of his righteousness, but he’d never know for sure. The Cannizzaros killed Castro that night, making it look like a suicide. Maybe they were worried Castro was changing sides, or maybe they were just plugging holes, Jack would never know that either. Jack had some complicated feelings about Castro, and instead of sorting them out, Jack tried to bury them with his friend. Danzig just brought all that back.

  “What do you know about the organization?” Danzig asked.

  Now Jack knew he was on shaky ground.

  “Is my answer covered by my plea deal?”

  “It is,” she said flatly. “Nothing you tell me here can incriminate you, as long as you haven’t done anything new and stupid in the last eighteen months.”

  Jack laughed, but there was no humor behind it. Then he said, “How much do you know about Italian mafia organizations?”

  “A little,” she said and looked to her partner.

  “Probably a little more,” Choi said, “but it’d be helpful to hear it from your perspective.”

  Jack didn’t quite know how to take that but decided not to read into it.

  “Okay, crash course is like this. ‘Mafia’ is a blanket term for an organized crime gang. Americans tend to assume ‘mafia’ means ‘Sicily’ because of so much of the American mafia had its origins there. Each region has their own—Camorra, ’Ndrangheta, Sacra Corona Unita, and, of course, La Cosa Nostra. Vincenzu Cannizzaro was a Sicilian mafia captain. His nephew was a thief named Niccoló Bartolo.”

  “Your old mentor and the head of the School of Turin.”

  “That’s right. Bartolo and Cannizzaro’s son, Salvatore, were very close growing up and worked together a lot. Now, there was a big civil war among the mafia gangs during the eighties. It was incredibly bloody. The Italian press called it Il Mattanza, ‘the Slaughter.’ The reason I bring this up is that after that, the Italian government cracked down hard on organized crime, to include trying to root out internal corruption. In no small measure because the Sicilian mafia murdered a pair of judges. The Italian government removed any mafia influence from Rome in the nineties.

  “Sensing a power vacuum and knowing they had to get out of Sicily, Vincenzu Cannizzaro abandoned most of his operations and relocated to Rome. He somehow got controlling interest in a small Roman bank.”

  “That’s the Commerce Bank?” Choi asked.

  “That’s right. I have no idea how he did it. Because there’s so much internecine warfare within the regional mafia factions at this point, none of them noticed the Cannizzaros setting up shop in Rome. They kept quiet, focused on blackmailing politicians and money laundering. They also had this system where they’d use the safe-deposit boxes in the vault as a kind of dead drop. They could securely store and move small amounts of drugs, gems, money, information, basically whatever they wanted that could fit in a box.”

  “Interest in the bank died quickly after the Andelić incident,” Danzig said. “Italian law enforcement heaped everything on Andelić and his organization, saying nothing about who actually owned the bank. We think it’s because of how many local officials the Cannizzaros have in their pocket. So, the Italian government contacted us. The Cannizzaros had an inspector in the financial police, our mutual friend, which is a pretty high-ranking officer. The Italian government doesn’t know how deep they’ve gone and how many cops are on the Cannizzaro payroll, so they want us to help. The idea is that the FBI tees them up and then their DIA will make the arrest.”

  “DIA?” Jack asked.

  “Sorry, Direzione Investigativa Antimafia.” Danzig said the words slowly and sloppily. Italian was not her strong suit. “It’s a joint antimafia agency made up of their other police services. But everyone is thoroughly vetted and handpicked. Basically, the government’s thinking is that if the FBI manages the investigation and makes an international thing of it, it’ll force the respective police agencies to hold themselves accountable.”

  “That sounds risky,” Jack said. “What do you think about it?”

  “I think my job is to catch bank robbers and jewelry thieves and not to get involved in politics. Our squad is attached to the Bureau’s Gem and Jewelry Program, and we specialize in countertrafficking. We’re based out of the Manhattan office, but we spend a lot of time on the road. Given our previous experience with the Andelić case, we got the call. We’ve been detailed to the US Embassy in Rome for the last six months.”

  “Vincenzu Cannizzaro died about ten years ago or so,” Jack said. “Salvatore took over and is running the organization now. I met him once in 1997, when they first took over the bank. Bartolo sent me down to Rome on an errand. Things were always tense between Vincenzu and Bartolo. Vincenzu thought anything Bartolo did was part of the broader Cannizzaro family, even if they didn’t have anything to do with it. Pay tribute, that sort of thing. Vincenzu wanted Bartolo and the School to do jobs for him, and Bartolo refused. There was enough mafia in Turin already, and that would’ve touched off something worse. As it was, we could operate independently, kind of work for everyone. Anyway, once Bartolo defied him that last time, Vincenzu gave him the kiss of death.”

  Choi laughed. “Is that real? I always thought it was something Coppola made up for The Godfather.”

  “No, it’s really real. Salvatore and Bartolo were very close once, but from what I hear, he keeps his father’s vendetta alive. That’s about the extent of what I know.”

  It wasn’t. But the other parts, Jack wasn’t bringing up.

  Giulia Montalto. Bartolo’s onetime mistress was the first woman Jack ever loved. They were together for two years when he was living in Turin. She betrayed him to Bartolo, and Nico almost killed him. Then, when Nico went to prison, she somehow ended up under the protection of Salvatore Cannizzaro. Until she ended up with Andelić. They were never involved, as far as Jack knew. There had been some political scandal in Rome, and Giulia was caught up in it. Jack didn’t know what happened to her after that mess and didn’t much care, as long as she was on the farthest side of the earth from him.

  “Well, I hope this was helpful,” Jack said. “Like I said, I only met Salvatore the one time. I wish you luck, though.” This was absolutely something that could have been handled over the phone.

  Danzig gave him a wry smile. “We’re almost done. We have intelligence from an informant that Cannizzaro tried to buy a very large quantity of diamonds recently. Apparently, a thief by the name of Vito Verrazano was sitting on them from the heist, or a series of them, and couldn’t sell them, so he asked Cannizzaro to move them. Cannizzaro lined up a buyer, and then this Verrazano up and disappeared.”

  “Does that name ring a bell to you, Jack?” Choi asked. “Verrazano?”

  Jack was on very dangerous ground now. Danzig knew about Bartolo, and she knew about Turin. It was possible—in fact, highly likely—that Castro gave her the names of everyone in the School of Turin at one point. If Jack lied and she caught him in it, it would be obvious that he was covering up for something.

  His mind raced.

  The FBI and Italian DIA knew about Cannizzaro, had someone in his organization, and they knew about the diamonds.

  “I know him,” Jack said. “Or at least I did. I cut all ties with the School of Turin after Giovanni warned me off.”

  “Except for Enzo Bachetti,” Danzig said.

  Shit.

  “Last I heard about Verrazano, he was arrested in ’97 and went to prison with the rest of them. I lost track of him after that.”

  “So you don
’t know where Verrazano might have gotten a large score?”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “About eighty million,” Choi said.

  “It’s interesting to me,” Danzig said, “that after he was arrested, Niccoló Bartolo claimed to have stolen one hundred million from the Antwerp Diamond Centre in 2003. Before he changed his story. And he allegedly stashed those diamonds in a bank, which Aleksander Andelić and the Pink Panthers then tried to break into. Then Vito Verrazano, a onetime colleague of Bartolo’s, is now trying to sell eighty million in diamonds to Salvatore Cannizzaro. The guy who owned the bank that the diamonds were stolen from.”

  “If Verrazano is doing that, he’s an idiot. Very few people or organizations, to include mafias, have the money to make a purchase that large. And if they did, why spend the money? Why not just kill Verrazano and take the stones? That’s one of the main reasons I never went after big scores. Maybe Cannizzaro did have a buyer or buyers lined up. If he’s as deep into smuggling now as you say, there are lots of organizations that might try to buy from him. Not to mention, the gray market. But the part that doesn’t ring true for me is the whole ‘big score’ thing. Those rarely work out in real life.”

  “Bartolo pulled it off,” Choi said.

  “He also never got to spend that money and he’s still in jail. And he probably lied about how much he actually got. I think it’s possible that Verrazano has something to sell. I think it’s also possible that he may have a large quantity of precious gems to move that he’s amassed over the years, but I have a hard time believing it’s anything on the order of what you’re talking about.”

  Jack saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. Megan had spotted them and was walking over. Jack cleared his throat. Danzig took the hint. Jack turned and smiled as Megan walked up, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Megan, allow me to introduce you to Special Agents Katrina Danzig and Dan Choi of the FBI.”

  “What’s she doing here, Jack?” Megan asked.

  “She knows?” Danzig said.

  “She does,” Jack admitted.

  Megan sized her up. “Katrina, huh? Fitting you’d be named after a natural disaster.”

  “Charming,” Danzig said.

  “Why are you here?” Megan asked.

  “Consulting,” Danzig replied. “Jack was offering me his expert opinion on a case I’m working on.”

  “Is that right,” Megan said. “I hope that’s all it is. Jack’s paid his debt, and he’s doing exactly what you told him to.”

  Danzig removed her sunglasses so there was no mistaking her expression. “Yes, and I expect he will continue to do so.”

  “Well, this is awkward and uncomfortable,” Jack said. “Meg, can you give us just a minute, and I’ll meet you inside for round-up?”

  “You sure you’re okay?” she asked. “I can get Hugh on the phone.”

  Jack winced at the mention and hoped it wasn’t visible. Hugh Coughlin was once his close friend and mentor in the wine industry. A longtime attorney in Napa, Hugh helped Kingfisher out with any legal matters and consulted on any business dealings they had. Hugh was the first person that Jack revealed his identity to. That didn’t strain their relationship, but by Rome it was obvious to Hugh that Jack wouldn’t quit thieving, and he told Jack that he couldn’t be around him anymore. Said he didn’t want to watch Jack destroy himself. Hugh had helped broker Jack’s plea deal, and that was the last they’d spoken. Megan knew all this and didn’t mean it as a slight; rather, it was a shot across the bow at Danzig.

  Megan hadn’t asked a lot of questions when Jack said he needed to be away for a couple of days. She knew that was part of the deal, but Jack had also promised her that he was retired. When he returned here today, Jack told Megan the reason he’d gone down to LA was because he’d learned that Reginald was out of prison and Jack wanted to make sure that LeGrande wasn’t going to try anything—like getting revenge on Jack. Megan said she didn’t like that and thought he was poking a hornet’s nest, but also that she understood. Jack wanted to get Megan away from this conversation as quickly as possible so that she didn’t slip and say something about Reginald, or worse, assume that was why Danzig was here.

  “I don’t think we need to do that,” Jack said. “Katrina is just following up on some things we talked about during my deposition a few years ago to help her out with a case they’re working on. I won’t be much longer.”

  Megan had a fiery temper and was protective of Jack, of the winery, of what they were building and the relationship they had. It had been a long and difficult journey for the two of them to get back to this point, and Jack knew Megan wasn’t going to let that go. But every second she stood here, Jack was worried that Megan was going to fire a shot off at Danzig, because she wouldn’t be able to help herself.

  Eight years before, the FBI had been no help in recovering the ten million dollars that Reginald LeGrande helped Paul Sharpe embezzle from the winery, a move that almost bankrupted them and forced Jack to take a very dangerous score in order to keep the winery afloat. They’d crawled out of that hole with more of Frank Fischer’s personal fortune, but it left a scar on Megan, and she sure as hell didn’t trust the FBI or much of the government anymore.

  Megan looked at the wineglasses in Danzig’s and Choi’s hands. “Well,” she said, “I hope you enjoy the wine.” She touched Jack on the elbow, her fingertips lingering for a moment, and then turned to walk back to the tasting room.

  Jack watched her go and had to force himself not to visibly exhale.

  Jack guided Danzig and Choi back to their car. He made no attempt at small talk as he did.

  “Thanks for your insights, Jack,” Danzig said when they arrived at the car. It seemed like a long way to come for the substance of the conversation they’d had.

  Choi asked, “One last question, Jack. Bartolo hid the diamonds in the Commerce Bank. Andelić forced you to break into the bank with his men with the intent of escaping through a tunnel and leaving you to take the fall for it.”

  “I remember,” Jack said dryly.

  “Since you have some expert knowledge of the bank, any idea how Vito Verrazano could have gotten those diamonds out? And do you think it happened before or after the Andelić incident?”

  There was the trap question. Any answer he gave would be a jumping-off point for further questioning. Next thing, he’d be “invited” down to the FBI office in San Francisco for an interview.

  “Dan, anything I’d say at this point would be pure speculation. I honestly have no idea.”

  “Try a guess.”

  “Under no circumstances,” Jack said evenly.

  An awkward few moments passed in silent standoff. Choi wasn’t going to make his move until Jack did, and Jack was sitting this hand out.

  Danzig let this play out for a bit longer than necessary. “If you hear anything from any of your contacts, I’d appreciate it if you let us know,” she said.

  “I don’t have any contacts anymore,” Jack said. “It’s hard for me to say how accurate the information is, but in my experience, those big scores are very hard to move. Almost impossible to do it quietly in one fell swoop.”

  They thanked him again for his time and left.

  There was only one reason that Danzig and Choi would fly all the way from Rome to San Francisco and then drive up here to talk to him in person.

  Message received, Jack thought.

  Jack made a quick scan of the patio. There were a few new customers sitting outside now, but they were all in the middle of tastings and all looked like tourists. Meaning, no one looked like a fed that was planted there to see what Jack would do as soon as Danzig and Choi left.

  The FBI and Italian DIA knew about Vito and knew that he had Bartolo’s diamonds. Danzig knew, or at least surmised, that the diamonds had been in Cannizzaro’s bank two years ago when the Pink Panthers forced Jack to break into it. Danzig guessed those were the diamonds that Vito attempted to sell to
Salvatore Cannizzaro over the last year but then didn’t. She’d unraveled almost this entire scheme, and now Jack, Rusty, and Enzo were on very, very dangerous ground.

  If Danzig learned that Vito was no longer in Italy, they would invariably start looking elsewhere for him. They were following the stones and not necessarily who was buying them. Jack couldn’t be sure if Danzig knew about Reginald and Vito. Castro didn’t know about that connection, but that’s not to say she couldn’t have gotten it otherwise. If the FBI refocused their investigation here…

  Jack felt a cold, crushing sensation wash over him.

  Reginald was all over the gem wholesalers in Los Angeles trying to put together a huge deal. That idiot was trying to sell those diamonds in one go. That was going to draw attention. Danzig said she was back in the FBI’s Gem and Jewelry unit, which Jack knew all too well looked at smuggling operations into the United States and abroad. As such, they had contacts with the people in that supply chain. Contacts and sources.

  Reginald was going to tip the authorities without even knowing it. In fact, the only thing they had going for them was the fact that Salvatore Cannizzaro had his goons tearing up the Italian countryside looking for Vito.

  The last time out, Jack tipped Danzig to Aleksander Andelić. Once Jack figured out Andelić was trying to set him up as a fall guy, a cover for his bank heist, Jack turned himself in to the FBI and became their informant. That wouldn’t work twice. If Jack went to Danzig now with the information he had on Reginald, not only would there be no way that he could pull another end around and still steal the diamonds, but Danzig would know that Jack lied to her when he said that he’d retired.

  There were now a series of unacceptable choices before him.

  They had to find out where Reginald and Vito had stashed the stones and steal them before Reginald’s stupidity and haste alerted the feds. And they had to do that without tipping Reginald and Vito off that it was Jack, Rusty, and Enzo, because the first thing Reginald would do would be to give Jack’s name over to the authorities in trade. And for spite.