by R. B. Conroy
Hearing voices by the front entrance, Barnes grabbed a thick file off his desk top and headed to the front of the building. When he arrived, he was surprised to see Party Chief, Bill Worthem, standing near the door.
“Good morning Bill, what a nice surprise. You haven’t been to my office for awhile.”
The thin man with a shiny, bald head, wearing a gray pin-striped suit, smiled at his occasional golfing companion. He stepped forward, hand outstretched, and the two men shook hands. “Got a minute?” he asked.
“Why certainly, Bill. Why don’t we step into the conference room?”
The stocky partner led Bill through the door into the conference room that was located near the front door. Inside, an attractive lady in a blue business suit, smiled broadly at the men as she finished making the coffee.
Barnes introduced the young lady, “Bill, I’d like for you to meet our next partner here at O’Brien and Son, Amy Connelly. She’s kind enough to make our coffee every morning.”
The blushing lady smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Barnes,” she said, pausing next to her beaming manager on the way out of the room. “Can I help you with anything, Mr. O’Brien?”
“Yes, would you please have someone type this for me?”
“Certainly.” The helpful attorney took the file from Barnes’s outstretched hand and left the room leaving the two men alone.
“Coffee, Bill?”
“No thanks, I’ve only got a few minutes. I’m on my way to a party event in Crawfordsville. The local sheriff is having trouble with his reelection bid.”
Barnes nodded.
Worthem walked around and took a seat at the other end of the table as if to say “This may be your office, but you’re not in charge.” Bill Worthem was a tough political operative who had headed up the Democratic machine in Indianapolis for more than twenty years. An attorney by trade, he didn’t shy away from confrontations and was considered “One of our top party leaders” by President Moretti after helping him carry Indiana in the last election. Many in the media were speculating that after the recent resignation of a key White House counsel, the President would tap Worthem for the job.
The powerful party man cleared his throat. “That was quite a brash move Friday evening. You rattled some chains—that’s for sure.”
Barnes seemed irritated by Worthem’s abruptness. “What’s going on here Bill? When did this cops and robbers stuff start?”
The corner of the party boss’s mouth turned up in a dismissing grin. Ignoring Barnes question, he continued, “I’ll try and make this clear; the party doesn’t like our local fund raising chairman sticking his nose into Government business. There are reasons for everything we do. We need you to keep your thoughts to yourself and go about your business.”
Barnes slammed his fist on the table, “Local fund raiser is it? I raised millions of dollars for that campaign and I don’t like being threatened by some over-ambitious party hack!”
Worthem took a deep breath, trying to ignore the insult. “You heard me, Barnes, keep your mouth shut. No more calls to me or other party officials about FBI activities.”
“Now, you listen to me Bill; I’m no fan of Crane. In fact, I’d like to break him in half but I don’t like his family being followed by guys in dark suits.”
“We need Midwest to keep that TARP money. It’s imperative that Midwest Consolidated be in good shape for the next Presidential election and Crane is standing in our way. We have our way of dealing with such things—Crane’s family will not get hurt.”
“I hope not.”
He gave Barnes a sharp stare and went on, “The Ambassador to Ireland will announce his retirement at the first of next month. Right now, close aides of the President have told me that you are the leading candidate for that job. One more episode like Friday night, Barnes, and I guarantee you that the closest you’ll ever get to Ireland will be at O’Haver’s” Pub on Saint Patrick’s Day.”
“Don’t threaten me, Bill!” Barnes stared angrily at the party chief. “A lot of cash came out of Elmwood Park during the campaign and I’ve got a whistle too.”
“It’s obvious that you’re not thinking clearly. We must keep that particular situation out of all dialogue. You’re being irrational with such threats. As it stands now, you’re highly regarded in the party, but that could change in a hurry. The bottom line is, what happened Friday night is none of your business.”
“Every time you put those goons on Crane’s family, he’s going to call me. He’s not going to call you or President Moretti.”
“Just tell him you are a local fund raiser and you know nothing about it.”
Barnes laughed sarcastically, “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you Bill? Well, you don’t know everything.”
Worthem’s brow lifted.
“There’s an audit in process at Midwest’s Elmwood Park office as we speak Bill. It seems Crane’s auditor, Josh Dulin, is on to something. He’s starting to uncover our little scheme to raise campaign funds.”
“Like I said, Barnes, I don’t like talking about that situation.”
“Oh…I’m sure you don’t. But you’d better start looking for a good attorney, you might need one.”
“Moretti will deal with any audits in due time. He’s the most powerful man in the world and he can get plenty serious when he has too. In the meantime, I would suggest that you continue to tow the party line.”
“Like I say Worthem, you better watch your backside.”
The exasperated party boss shook his head in frustration. He stood and walked slowly toward the door. Pausing next to the feisty attorney, he spoke quietly, “Think about it, Barnes, you’ve become a very, very wealthy man and you’re past sixty years old. You have a wonderful family and you are about to fulfill your life’s dream. You have a nice retirement ahead of you.” He leaned closer, his face only inches from the aging attorney. He was almost whispering now, “Our President is trying to hold on to his power and he will stop at nothing to do so. Keep your future bright, Barnes. Keep your nose out of our business.”
The office door closed behind him; Barnes stood motionless. He felt very warm and perspiration began to dampen his shirt. The tough Irishman had been shaken by the ominous threat from Worthem. Sudden laughter out in the lobby shook him out of his thoughts. It was time to greet the other partners and staff for the day. He stood and paused before leaving the room. For the first time he understood the totality of the situation in which he was involved. Moretti’s charming, smiling face flashed through his mind. To think such an apparently nice man could be the source of such intimidation was indeed shocking. He wanted to savage Worthem. He wanted to tear him apart, but he knew that he had no choice but to “tow the party line” and it infuriated him. “That pompous ass!” he moaned just before he opened the door to the lobby.
Chapter 16
“I gotcha Grandpa! I gotcha!” The diminutive seven year old shouted in glee, clutching tightly to Alex’s lower leg. The two friendly warriors struggled across the thick lawn on the warm summer evening. Suddenly, Alex rolled to the ground, covering his head with both hands. The excited seven year old crashed on top of him, punching Alex, for all he was worth. Nearby, Nicky was busy tightening the straps on granddaughter Katie’s lifejacket, preparing her for a much anticipated boat ride. Alex’s son and daughter-in-law, Jarod and Missy, played volleyball in the side yard with a young neighbor couple.
“You haven’t got anybody, you little troublemaker!” Alex lifted the hysterically laughing boy above him, shaking him gently and then dropping him to his chest for a tight hug. Nearby, Jarod gathered up the loose volleyball, glanced over and smiled at the doting grandfather. With her lifejacket secure, granddaughter Katie ran toward her grandpa.
“Time for a boat ride, Grandpa!” she shouted.
Many years ago, Alex had appointed himself commodore of the small stable of boats they kept at their lake home. It was a job he coveted and one he would not relinquish to anyone.
/> “Yeah Grandpa, boat ride!” the exuberant Eli shouted. Alex set the giggling boy carefully on the ground.
Nicky hurried over and slipped a lifejacket around Eli’s shoulders and strapped it tight. She smiled at her husband. “Better get going, dear. It’s getting late and we still have to put some food in these kids’ bellies and get them ready for bed. And, you have an early trip to Chicago in the morning.”
Alex jumped to his feet and brushed the grass clippings from his bathing suit. “Okay kids, let’s get going.” Alex raced toward the boat.
The two happy children ran toward the long pier, shoving each other along the way. “Which boat, Grandpa?” eleven year old Katie asked.
“Let’s take the pontoon; it’s easier to get off and on for swimming. Don’t get in the boat until I get there!” he commanded.
“You can grill some brats and dogs for the kids when you get in,” Nicky suggested.
“Okay, honey. I’ll take them to the sandbar for a little swimming and then we’ll head back. Give us about an hour.”
“No longer than that, please. The day’s kind of gotten away from us.”
“Okay.” Alex hurried over and helped the children into the large pontoon. He then lifted the thick ropes from the pier posts, tossed them in the boat, and joined the children inside the wobbly craft. Soon they were cruising through the rough waters of Lake Wawasee. Alex glanced back at the shore as Nicky hurried into the house to get things around for dinner.
Alex felt at peace as he bounced across the choppy lake toward the popular sandbar, a shallow spot in the lake that the locals had adopted as their favorite swimming hole.
Fortunately, the two menacing men who had been shadowing them earlier in the weekend had not reappeared since his call to Barnes. But Alex understood that all was not over; he knew things would get worse before they got better. This situation was escalating and he feared that things could get rough. He also understood that his family was a point of vulnerability for him. If attempts to intimidate or frighten his family continued, he would protect them at all costs. For the time being, it appeared that Barnes had rectified the situation and he prayed it would stay that way.
Earlier that day Alex had received an e-mail from Louie Campano requesting a meeting in the Chicago office on Tuesday morning. The office was only a two hour drive from their cottage, so he and Nicky and the kids had decided to stay at the cottage for a couple more days. Alex would drive up to the meeting on Tuesday and then return to the lake in the afternoon. They would then drive back to Indianapolis Tuesday evening.
Louie had assured Alex that the meeting was routine. He said all he needed was a little time with him to go over some pressing issues at his office. But with the recent discovery at that office, Crane wasn’t sure what to expect. He trusted Louie, but he also wondered if the congenial manager had become an unknowing pawn in this treacherous game.
A huge wave suddenly appeared in front of the boat. The pointy pontoons knifed into the dark wave sending a cold spray of water splashing through the boat, completely soaking Alex and the children. The children screamed in delight, shouting in unison, “Do that again, Grandpa! Do it again!” Alex, not nearly as excited about the frigid experience as the children, hoped that he had just experienced his last tsunami wave for the day.
Moments later, a large cluster of anchored boats came into view. Alex pulled back on the throttle and began looking for an opening among the bobbing watercraft. Finally, he located an acceptable spot. He tossed the anchor overboard and killed the engine. Soon, the kids were in the lake, screaming and splashing in the clear water. Alex was beaming. He loved these times at the lake with the grandkids—he wouldn’t trade them for anything.
………
Their lips blue and shivering beneath the large beach towels, the exhausted children huddled in the captain’s chair next to their grandpa for the trip back to the cottage. Alex accelerated slowly, hugging the shoreline and avoiding the large orange buoys that marked the restricted swimming areas. In their exuberance, he and the children had stayed too long and it was starting to get dark—Grandma was not going to be very happy.
Alex surveyed the approaching wetland with its tall reeds and frog infested lily pads. He gazed in delight as graceful sea gulls dive-bombed at the hull of the cruising boat. A flock of Canada geese honked as they flew overhead in perfect formation in the darkening sky.
“What a paradise!” Alex sighed. Unfortunately, his melodious trance didn’t last very long. A powerful engine roared behind him. Alex glanced to the rear. A boat was fast approaching, too quickly for this time of day when low throttle was required. It was a large speed boat with a high, menacing hull. The two dark figures in the front were indiscernible against the setting sun. Alex’s pulse quickened. He scanned the isolated bay that bordered their lake home for any signs of other watercraft, but there were none around. The trailing boat moved closer. With only four Department of Natural Resources officers assigned to cover more than one hundred lakes in the vast resort area, enforcement on the lakes, for the most part, was left up to the residents. This type of behavior at dusk was unusual. Who could they be? Who would so blatantly break the rules? Alex glanced over at the frightened children and then back at the menacing craft.
The mysterious boat seemed to be picking up speed as it came closer. The sky was continuing to darken, reducing visibility. Alex felt trapped. He couldn’t turn right inside the swimming buoys and a left turn would throw them right in front of the fast approaching boat. The dark craft was now only a hundred feet away and coming hard. Heart pounding, Alex saw the final swimming buoy just before the wetlands. He gunned the boat toward the last buoy. His arm went over his face for protection against a flock of low flying mallards. He spun in his seat; one of the darkened figures in the boat raised his arm and jabbed it toward them. Alex leaned in front of the children to protect them. The outboard engine whined, pushing the cumbersome craft forward.
“What’s the matter, Grandpa?” Katie shouted. “Why are you pushing against us, Grandpa?” Eli bawled. The children hugged tightly to his legs.
The boat was now right on top of them; panic flooded through the normally cool Alex. The unexpected intruders had caught him totally off guard—his heart was in his throat. The hull of the speeding boat was just a few feet from the struggling pontoon and the driver’s arm was pointed directly at them. Alex kept himself between the boat and the children, bracing for the assault.
“Who are those men, Grandpa?” Katie screamed.
“We’re gonna die!” Eli cried.
Suddenly the huge hull peeled left and a voice shot out, “Stay out of the way, old man!”
Alex spun around to see a muscular teenager showing him his middle finger. He and a companion whizzed past, howling in laughter. The big waves from the passing boat pushed the pontoon toward the shore. Alex spun back around; the pontoon was racing toward the large boulders that lined the shoreline in the wetland.
“Grandpa! Grandpa! Look out for the rocks!” Katie screamed.
Alex grabbed the throttle and yanked hard, slamming the motor into reverse. The hundred fifty horse engine sputtered and groaned as it strained mightily to stop the momentum of the heavy boat.
The shaken children clung mightily to their grandpa, waiting for the crash landing on the rocks. The big engine revved violently and then finally caught hold.
Wide-eyed, his face wet with perspiration, Alex watched in disbelief as the long vessel came to a stop just inches from an enormous boulder. He crammed the boat into neutral and fell to his knee, hugging the children.
“Who were those men, Grandpa?” the older Katie asked. “Why did they try to run over us?”
Alex pulled them closer. “Everything is okay; it was just some crazy kids.” With one arm around the children, Alex reached for the controls, backed the boat around and out of the reedy area. He looked across the lake at the large speed boat as it disappeared into a distant bay. “Smart alecks,” he mumbled.
>
The frightening episode was a stark reminder to Alex of the threatening situation he had been cast into at the bank. Although these were just a couple of drunken kids, something deep inside told him that it could have just as easily been a real provocation. Alex prided himself in keeping his emotions under control. That event, along with the two goons earlier in the weekend, had thrown him off his game. He vowed to never let that happen again. Mentally tough and fit, he would be ready for the next threat. Real or not, he would be ready.
With the children back in their seats and starting to calm down, Alex guided the boat back to deep water and continued their trip across the bay to the cottage.
Chapter 17
“Thank you, Esther.”
The steaming black liquid splashed in the thick mug. He took a deep breath, the scent of fresh brewed coffee smelled wonderful. Butch lifted the cup, filled to the three-quarters level as he demanded, and gently blew across the rim of the cup dispersing the ropes of steam. Esther took her leave and retired to the maid’s quarters.
Alone, the aging mobster took a sip. He savored the warm beverage for a moment before looking out his dining room window and giving his daily nod to the statue of the Patron Saint Maurice that was located at the end of a long courtyard. A devout Catholic, he felt a connection to the powerful warrior Saint, standing in full battle armor and leaning against his shield. The inscription below the statue explained how the courageous Saint had died in an epic battle in 286 A.D. fighting for his beliefs. Alonzo “Butch” Ferinni understood that kind of sacrifice—often fantasizing his own death in a blazing gunfight with a rival gang while defending his turf.
On this typical hot summer day, the large house was quiet as usual. There was no one in the living area but Butch. His seventeen year old son was away at military school in Indiana. His wife, nearly twenty years his junior, was still slumbering in their expansive master bedroom on the second floor. As was their routine, he would be long departed before she made her way downstairs later in the morning.