“I never intended to take them in the first place, but Andelić pushed me into it. Everything after that was just me getting back what’s mine.”
“Well, then a fitting end to your journey is me ending up with what’s yours,” Reginald said with a leer. “Now, if you would be so kind.”
“Let her go first, then I’ll do it.” Jack took a side step, moving him next to Megan, outwardly a reassuring gesture.
Reginald stepped forward, as if by a natural opposing force, in order to bring the menace closer, and the burnt-orange light of sunset lit him up fully. He squinted but wouldn’t give Jack the satisfaction of having him close the blinds.
“That’s sweet, but no.”
“I’m not giving you a choice, Reg,” Jack said in a perfectly reasonable tone. “She lives or you don’t get shit. The diamonds are in a safe, which you can’t open without me. I had Enzo pick it out, and he said he couldn’t crack this one without a torch. So, you need me to open it, and I’m not going to do that unless Megan is safe. You’ll have your diamonds but will just have to take your chances with everything else.” Jack shrugged. “That’s the deal.”
“There’s no dealing, Jack. That isn’t what this is. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Reginald’s eyes dragged over to look at Megan. “I know how good of a con artist you are. Don’t forget, I trained you.”
Jack took another slow step backward.
“Stop moving,” Reginald said abruptly. “The thing you’re counting on, Jack, is that I want the diamonds more than I want to kill you. I’ve been in prison twice, now, and both on account of you. I think that’s time enough for one man. And while I’d like to disappear rich, I’ll sleep just as good knowing you’re in the fucking dirt where you belong.” Reginald punctuated it by closing the gap and raising his pistol from his hip to chest height. At this range, he couldn’t hit anything but Jack.
The words of retort, the stalling tactic were forming on Jack’s lips when Megan screamed.
It was a furious, feral noise, deep and throaty, cutting and raw. She charged Reginald, who’d been so focused on Jack he didn’t even see her move until it was too late to do anything.
She’d changed her grip on the wine bottle she still held, gripping it by the neck, and swung that thing like a club for all it was worth. Megan, still roaring, brained Reginald with the wine bottle. It connected with the side of his face, and he made a strange sound that could only be described as pushing pain out of his mouth. His body caved with the blow, rolling inward as if pulling the energy transferred with the swing and carrying through. Jack watched in slow motion as a bright red spray of blood burst from Reginald’s face, part of the bottle having connected with his nose.
Jack went for the SIG under his shirt.
Reginald fired.
Jack fired.
29
“This is Fuery,” the voice said and sounded worn.
“Hi, Ray, is it? This is Katrina Danzig. I’m with the Gem and Jewelry Program, but I guess you heard I’m currently working out of the US Embassy in Rome. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you.”
“Hey, no problem. Candle’s got two ends, right?”
“That’s right,” she said, smiling into the phone and hoping the tone carried across the line. “Well, I got a quick rundown from the LEGAT here, but maybe tell me what’s going on on your end. Sounds like we may be working different ends of the same case. Do you have time to compare notes?” It was early here, late there, but then time had a way of warping when you were in the thick of a case.
She heard Fuery exhale in the way that said it was just one more thing he had to do.
“Yeah, happy to. In fact, we’re stalled out. I called Silva, what, two days ago, hoping maybe you guys had some more intel on these guys.”
“I think there may be a lot of guys involved,” Danzig said. “How about you just start at the beginning and catch me up. Then I’ll share what I know. Does that work for you?”
“Sure thing. We’re based out of the LA division, and my partner, that’s Kent Reaves, and I were on the financial crimes squad for a long time, but recently they’ve shifted our focus to China. Not counterintelligence per se, more like trying to figure out what American businesses the Chinese are targeting. Anyway, there’s a firm based here in LA, a brokerage house for precious metals, rare earth elements and gems. We got word about six months ago that their VP of operations was dirty, that he was setting up deals under the table for Asian buyers and taking side money for it. Guy’s name is Carter LeMothe. Real asshole. Anyway, we get a wire up on LeMothe and find out he’s meeting with these two who are allegedly diamond wholesalers. Story goes they leveraged their business for this huge gem buy right before the pandemic hit and then couldn’t sell them, so they are looking for a buyer to take them off their hands.”
Danzig smiled. “Any chance this business was based in Italy?”
“Matter of fact, it was. The principals, one American and one Italian. Their names were Reginald Burton and Vito De Angeles.”
Goddamn it, she practically shouted in her mind. That was it.
“I think I know them,” she said.
“Thank God somebody does.”
“The Reginald, I believe, is Reginald LeGrande. Career thief and then started a second career as a fixer and a forger. We busted him for passports and money laundering about eight years ago. He’s been in prison twice. The other one is Vito Verrazano. He’s a thief, was pretty big in the nineties and has been in semi-retirement since then. The diamonds they are trying to move, we believe, were stolen from the Antwerp Diamond Centre in 2003.”
“No shit,” Fuery said, drawing the words out long. “That would have been useful to know last week.” Then he said, “Hey, I’m not bitching at you. There was no way you could’ve known we had this going on. Let me just explain what went down and see where we’re at. Cool?” Danzig said it was. “So, we have Carter set the buy up. We get a fake business going, websites, registry, the whole nine. Had a leased office space from another case. One of our agents here is a Chinese American, got him to pose as the buyer. Burton and De Angeles show up, and they have the diamonds brought in by armored car. That was the first indication that either these guys were on the level or they were really, really good con men. This is also where shit goes all the way sideways. Burton and De Angeles are meeting with our agent and the diamonds are being unloaded from the armored car. An SUV and a car come into the parking lot, full speed, and fence in the armored car. Cars unload shooters, three apiece, and an all-out gunfight starts. Reaves and I respond, take out two of them. They’ve gotten all of the private security, except for the driver, and our police assistance got another. We took four into custody. One was an Italian national and the other three were IOC. We figured out later after talking with our OC guys and LAPD Vice that the Italian nationals were told by their bosses back home to link up with LCN here in LA. So, while all this is going on, Burton…or LeGrande, I guess, slips out. He escapes out the back of the building and disappears. The location was right near a metro that also had buses and is literally in the shadow of the 105 and 405 interchange. By the time we knew he was gone, there were too many escape routes to chase.” Fuery paused a moment. “LeGrande getting away is on us. My partner and I were so focused on backing up the Inglewood cops because they were taking fire, we didn’t coordinate with our own. LeGrande slipped through the cracks.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Ray. I wasn’t there, I’ve got no room to judge.”
“Thanks,” he said, and it sounded like he genuinely meant it. “Now get ready for the craziest shit you’ve ever heard.”
And then Special Agent Fuery proceeded to tell her the craziest shit she’d ever heard.
Danzig listened as he recapped what he told her about the mafia assault, but now with the benefit of interrogation and assistance from the LAPD. He told her about an unknown suspect posing as a US Customs agent convincing the Inglewood police’s on-scene commander to r
elinquish control of the diamonds to his custody, apparently using a bogus search and seizure warrant to do so.
“Guy talked like a cop. Inglewood PD said that between the badge and the warrant, it looked totally legit to him. It seemed weird that he’d clear the diamonds from the crime scene before forensics hit it, but the PD, a Sergeant Fulton, said he wasn’t about to question the feds either. ‘Above my pay grade,’ was what told us. Our leading theory was that LeGrande and Verrazano had a backup.” Fuery said their names in a tentative way, as though he was testing them somehow for authenticity. “From what you’re describing about their background, that seems highly plausible. Makes sense too, given how much was at stake. LeGrande and Verrazano are in with us and the diamonds get delivered. They’ve got cell phones. All they’d need to do is signal their guy that something sounds off, and he takes possession of the diamonds. Without the stones, we’ve got nothing to charge them with. Like I said, LeGrande slipped out, but we held onto Verrazano. Kept him over the weekend, notified the Italian consulate. They’re checking into it, seeing if his passport is valid, but I ask them how long it’ll take and all I hear is, ‘Domani, domani.’”
Danzig didn’t mean to smile at his frustration, but she understood it well. Whenever you tried to box an Italian into committing to a time, it was always, “Domani, domani,” which meant “tomorrow.” Tomorrow as relative to exactly what day was usually up to interpretation. She gave him a knowing half-laugh and said she knew what he meant.
“We’re going to keep on Verrazano, see if he kicks anything loose, though I’m not optimistic on that. He doesn’t seem to have a lawyer and hasn’t asked for one. Hasn’t asked for a phone call either. The lawyer thing is the only part of this that doesn’t add up for me.”
“How so?”
“Well, they had a fairly sophisticated operation up to this point, so we kind of expected they’d have your archetypal crooked lawyer on hand, but so far, nothing. Without the diamonds, I don’t think we can hold onto him for long, but if it comes back that his passport was bullshit—and we think it is—that gives us some extra leverage. And you’re sure that my Burton and De Angeles are your guys?”
“I am.”
Danzig spent the next few minutes briefing Fuery on the sordid history of Reginald LeGrande. Danzig knew much less about Verrazano but shared what she knew—the School of Turin, Niccoló Bartolo, their bust at the hands of the Italian state police. And about Gentleman Jack Burdette. She told him about Bartolo stealing the diamonds in 2003, this time providing much more detail than she had earlier in their conversation, and how Verrazano stole them from the Commerce Bank and Salvatore Cannizzaro in 2019.
“Jesus Christ,” Fuery said.
“I’m working with a CI in the Cannizzaro organization. He’s their money guy. Verrazano was supposed to sell the diamonds to Cannizzaro, but instead he threw in with LeGrande and fled to Los Angeles. Even beyond the names, I’m convinced these are our guys. My CI told me that Cannizzaro had them tailed to the States when it looked like they couldn’t make the grab in Rome. The goal was to pick the diamonds up and bring them back. That obviously failed, and now the diamonds are in the wind.”
“Any idea why they didn’t just ambush Verrazano while they were still in Italy?”
“The CI doesn’t have a lot of firsthand information on this, but the guess is that Verrazano was already in the States by the time Cannizzaro figured out that he was switching sides. We don’t know exactly how they learned this, but we can confirm they reached out to LCN in Los Angeles for support. Money was exchanged, our guy set it up. They got cars and guns, which matches what you’ve said.”
Danzig could now confirm that the diamonds were in Los Angeles and that Verrazano and LeGrande attempted to sell them but failed. LeGrande and now a third accomplice, most likely someone he’d met in prison or, possibly an older partner. Verrazano was in custody, for now, and that was good. But she couldn’t interview him herself. And she didn’t think the situation was much changed. She had the word of an informant that Verrazano smuggled diamonds into the United States, but without a seizure, they couldn’t actually prove it. Which meant they didn’t have anything to charge him with, other than illegal entry and possessing a fake ID. But they could extradite him and let Bruni pick him up. That might be worth something.
“Where are you with the armored car company?”
“WorldSecure? They’re stalling us. They’re trying to pull some Swiss bank shit, claiming that they have to maintain the confidentiality of their clients’ assets. But that’s not going to last. A federal judge is going to order them to cooperate. We think what’s really going on is that they didn’t scrutinize LeGrande and Verrazano heavily enough when they agreed to take their diamonds, and they know it. They’re just trying to buy time for their lawyers to get a defense together, but between you and me, they’re fucked. They’re looking at some huge fines and probably criminal negligence. We’ve already ripped apart this fake company that LeGrande and Verrazano created. As soon as we get WorldSecure to acknowledge that they received, stored, and transported diamonds belonging to these guys, I think we’ve got enough to charge them both.”
“You may be on shaky ground there,” Danzig cautioned. “This is my wheelhouse.”
“Hey, I’m all ears. Help a brother out.”
“Without the diamonds, a judge may not agree to take the case. Up until this point, all we have is intent. We need to have the diamonds so that we can force LeGrande and Verrazano to prove their provenance, which they won’t be able to do. Unless you get Verrazano to cop to it or you find LeGrande.”
“I see what you mean.” Fuery was quiet for a time, thinking things through. “I doubt we’re going to get much from Verrazano. I suppose there’s a chance that we could get him to roll on his partner, but my gut tells me that’s not likely. I’m leaning toward letting him go, making a big deal out of it, like, ‘Hey, we know you’re skating’ and then putting a tail on him, seeing if he leads us to LeGrande. I can always arrest him once we get WorldSecure to confirm they stored diamonds for him.”
Danzig didn’t like it, but she had to admit it was probably the best option. It also wasn’t her case.
Danzig couldn’t tell him about Operation Flipside. She was barely cleared for it herself. All she could do was impress upon him how important it was that they recovered those stones. She would need to tell him that they would be seizing the diamonds immediately so that they could be used in the Cannizzaro/Sokolov sting, but Danzig couldn’t tell him exactly why.
“Ray, I’ve got an idea. Our end of this is that my team is providing operational support to the Italian government to help them bust Salvatore Cannizzaro. In addition to being a mafia boss, Cannizzaro has a massive money-laundering and public corruption operation. But he’s hidden it very, very well. And he’s got a long track record of buying off cops and judges. I bring all this up to say, we need the diamonds in order to make this airtight.” She paused a beat to let that sink in. “What if we offer Verrazano a deal. He gets us the diamonds and agrees to testify against LeGrande, so you make your case. Then he agrees to try to sell the diamonds to Cannizzaro. We serve that up to the Italian government, and they nail this fucker to the wall. Everybody wins.”
“Do you really think he’ll turn on his boy?”
“Hard to say without being there. I’ve never met Verrazano, I only know him by reputation. But if we can convince him that he’s looking at prison time in the States or extradition to Italy for a conviction there—and I can tell you Italian prisons are no joke—he might just do it.”
“Worth a shot, right?”
30
The room with filled with the fiery orange glow of sunset and the acrid smell of gun smoke, and no one knew what happened.
Reginald lay on the ground, half on the tile of the entryway and half on the carpet, blood pooling around him. Jack’s shot hit him in the chest, and by the gurgling sound Reginald was making, most likely a lung. Reginald kicked
his legs, probably for something to do, a reflex action. Something to take his mind off the pain. He was still conscious, though, his head lolled to one side, a complete wreck from where Megan hit him with the wine bottle. He gasped for breath in heavy, wet drags. Reginald had dropped the gun when he fell, and it was somewhere near his waist now.
“Are you okay, Megs?” Jack turned to her. She was on her feet, breathing heavily and still holding the wine bottle by the neck in her left hand. She didn’t answer. She just stared at Reginald dying slowly on the floor.
“He was…he was…” Her breath came heavy and ragged, like she’d just run some great distance.
“Meg, are you hurt?”
“He was going to kill us,” she said finally, ignoring his question. Jack looked her over and didn’t see any visible wounds. Then he checked himself.
Jack’s shirt felt wet, and when he put a hand on his right side, pain blossomed out like an angry red geyser. Jack swore as the pain intensified. In all his long career as a thief, Jack had never been shot. He looked at his hand. It was covered in blood. He felt weak.
The orange sunlight that filled the room was starting to darken to red. Smoke from the pistols was still heavy in the air around Jack, as was the smell of expended gunpowder.
There was a sick, wet chortling sound expanding into the space around them. It took long moments for Jack to realize that it was Reginald laughing. There was blood on his lips, trailing down the corners of his mouth. Jack had seen men die this way. Reginald didn’t have long, but whatever time he did have was more than he deserved.
Megan looked over and finally realized that Jack was shot. She sucked air in and rushed over, then stated the obvious. “Jack, you’ve been shot!”
“It’s not bad,” he said through gritted teeth. Breathing hurt. Everything on his right side was pure fire.
The room reddened and darkened.
Reginald laughed again.
Once a Thief (Gentleman Jack Burdette Book 3) Page 31