Deadly Game

by R. B. Conroy

  Gus’s brow pushed tight. “You’re right, Butch. I was the best. I was a heartless killer. I was capable of anything back then. I gunned down a man once for a hundred bucks—a hundred damned dollars!” Shaken by his own revelations, Gus paused momentarily, composed himself and continued. “All of that—it still haunts me today. I can still see their faces: Benny, Paul Paul, Choir Boy, and other guys I whacked. I still dream about them at night and wake up in a cold sweat. There’s something about killing someone; it gets inside of you and it never leaves.”

  “Vito told me that your daughter Darcy is very ill. He said it would take a lot of cash to get her well.”

  Gus shot up in his chair, his face white with rage. “Listen to me, Butch! I know your tricks! I know how you guys work! Don’t bring my daughter into this!”

  A stoic Butch ignored his pleas. “I’ve got approval to go a quarter million on this one. Just one hit, a quarter mil!”

  His chest heaving in anger, Gus’s eyes clouded over thinking about the awful dilemma he was now facing. That kind of money could pay for Darcy’s heart operation. He wanted desperately for his daughter to have her surgery, but not with blood money. Yet, he knew that he could never save enough money to pay for the operation and with each passing day, her chances for survival grew less. But the old Doc Clemente was gone—dead and buried long ago. Could he be resurrected? Could he kill again? The thought of it sickened him.

  “This is all about what history will say about our friend, Eddie. He may go down as one of the greatest presidents of all time—a man to be looked up to and admired for years to come. Or he may go down as a shamed man, a forgotten man, like those other nameless presidents like Franklin Pierce of Chester Arthur or one of those guys. That’s why it’s a quarter mil, it’s very important.”

  Gus winced at the mention of the quarter million; he needed it so badly. He could tell Butch had done his homework. No way would he know the names of Pierce and Arthur otherwise.

  He fell back against his chair and exhaled. He didn’t really give a damn about Ed Moretti. Oh, he was happy he was President, but he had always been the rich kid on the block. Born of privilege, he drove a new Camaro and wore designer clothes in high school. Gus was not so lucky. The son of a truck driver, he was considered a “hurt” or “loser” as a kid. Ed Moretti wouldn’t have given Gus the time of day when he was growing up.

  But Gus cared deeply about his Darcy and wanted desperately to make her well. He found the huge offer hard to resist. He could pay for her surgery and have money left over. Maybe, he and Trudy could use some of the money, get married and buy a house. He felt like he was being ripped apart inside.

  He gave Butch a hard stare and continued, “What you’re doing is bullshit, Butch, and you know it. But I want more than anything for my daughter to live a rich and full life. I would gladly give up my own life for that. So I will consider this on two conditions.”

  Butch’s eyes went wide, “Yes, yes go ahead.”

  “First, I want paid in cash—cold cash.”

  “No problem, I was planning on it.”

  “Secondly, I’ve got a good life here and I want to keep it that way. I don’t want it ruined by this. I don’t want anyone to know about this, so I have a question for you.”

  “Certainly, go ahead.”

  Gus’s eyes darkened and narrowed. “If you bullshit me on this Butch, I will come after you—I promise.”

  Butch grimaced. A man among men, he was not used to such threats. His anger flared and then subsided, knowing that the man he was facing would not make an idle threat, even to him. “Go ahead,” he said quietly.

  “Does anyone, besides you, know that you have come here today?”

  “No, no one.”

  “What about Vito?”

  “He doesn’t know I came here today, but he did offer up your name as a possible trigger man, along with several others.”

  “Okay then. It’s the same for that coward Vito. You can tell him it’s me, but if he tells anyone and I find out, I will take him out also. You tell him that.”

  “I will tell him.” Butch‘s eyes softened. “You have my word of honor. No one else will know. Your life here in this small community will not be affected and if we ever meet again, it will be only to break bread and talk about old times.”

  Gus fell back against his chair and lifted his drink, “Dio vi benedica il mio amico.” Gus blessed Butch in Italian to alleviate the tension and reinforce the close bond that had developed between them over the years.

  “Dio vi benedica il mio amico,” Butch replied.

  “You always get your way, don’t you?”

  “Not always—just ask Maria!”

  Gus smiled. “What do we do next?”

  “I have a room at the Holiday Plaza on the edge of town. We can meet in my room tomorrow morning at ten and begin planning. I will give you the details then. I am in Room 127.”

  Gus looked away. There was an agonizing pause before he turned and spoke, “Ten, it is,” he said softly.

  Butch downed the remainder of his martini. “I have to go. It’s getting late,” he said briskly. The two men shook hands. Butch stopped at the bar, paid the tab and then hurried from the lounge.

  A shaken Gus was left alone with his thoughts. Just a few hours earlier he was enjoying another day of dealing on his beloved gambling boat. Now, without warning, his entire life had been turned upside down. The agony of it all was almost overwhelming. After years of struggling, he was just now starting to feel like a ‘real’ human being again. He was angry—angry at Butch and angry at all of the made-men he had thrown in with so many years ago. Always trying to compensate for his small stature, he risked everything to prove to them that he was the deadliest and toughest hit man on the West Side. And whether it be for good or bad, he had accomplished just that. Feared by even the most sinister of the thugs in the dark menacing world of the mob, nobody messed with Gus “Doc” Clemente. Over twenty men had found an early grave at the end of the hot, smoking barrel of Gus’s trusty thirty-eight. But what disturbed him most, as he sat alone and shaking, was the realization that deep inside, he knew that he still possessed the ability to kill. Those demons that had driven him to the top of the “hit-man” hierarchy of the Chicago mob were still there, waiting to be called upon. Sure, he needed the money for his beloved Darcy, but how many people could agree to take the life of a person they didn’t even know? He downed his Scotch and stood to leave. He felt a gentle touch on his neck.

  “Everything okay, Gus?”

  He turned to see the worried eyes of his girl, Trudy. “Uh…yes, everything is fine.” He mustered a weak smile.

  “You poor thing—your shirt is soaked and your face is white.”

  “I think I’m getting a touch of the flu or some-thing.” Gus move rapidly to change the subject. “What are you doing here? Your shift should have ended at seven.”

  “One of the girls in the cage up front couldn’t make it. They asked me to do a double, so I took it. One of the boys stopped on his way out and told me you were back here having a drink with another guy.”

  “Yeah…uh he was an old friend from Chicago. We were catching up on old times. Can I walk you to your car?”

  “Oh sure, thank you.” The two reunited lovers navigated their way through the sparsely populated casino.

  “I saw a man walk past a little while ago. He looked familiar—like I had seen him on TV, or something. He was a big man. Was that your friend?” Trudy asked as she stepped through the open door and into the parking lot.

  “Don’t think so. Alonzo’s just a construction guy; he builds houses and does remodeling jobs up around Chicago.”

  “That’s nice.” Trudy poked around in her purse and found her key and pushed the unlock button.

  Gus hurried ahead and politely opened the car door.

  She paused, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow night. I’ve missed you, Gus.”

  All the feelings that had been coming alive
in Gus over the past several years rushed through him as he stood looking at his lovely Trudy. “And, I’ve missed you.”

  “Bye Gus.”She climbed into her seat and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. Gus slowly closed the door and stood staring at her. The sweet scent of her per-fume aroused his senses. He didn’t want her to leave.

  The electric window shuddered down. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Gus forced a reassuring smile. “I’m wonderful,” he said. He leaned down and planted a warm kiss on her cheek. “Drive carefully,” he ordered.

  She blushed. “See you tomorrow.” The engine’s tappets rattled as the old car pulled away.

  A smiling Gus watched as she left the lot and merged slowly into the light traffic on Casino Boulevard. His broad smile suddenly vanished, his brow tightened. “Damn them! Damn those wise-guys!” he wailed. Spinning around, he violently kicked a huge tire on a nearby truck over and over again until his foot was aching in pain. “Damn them!” he shouted once more, waving his clenched fist defiantly in the air. Finally exhausted, his arm fell to his side. He breathed deeply and slowly exhaled. Shoulders slumped, eyes to the ground, he turned and limped slowly toward his car.

  Chapter 35

  “Good morning, Alex. Please have a chair.” A serious looking Josh Dulin pointed to the chair next to him at the end of the large table in his conference room.

  “Thank you, Josh.” Alex hastily approached the chair and sat down. The CPA tossed a folder in front of him.

  “I appreciate your coming to my office; it makes things a lot easier to have all the supporting files and documentation readily at hand. I hope you understand.”

  “I certainly do.” Alex opened the folder.

  Josh leaned forward and carefully scanned one of the spread sheets. “Take a look at the sheet labeled “summary”. It should be the first one in your folder.”

  “Yes, I see it. Go ahead.”

  Josh went on. “We busted our butts all weekend to reach these totals. It took a lot of time.”

  Alex nodded.

  “Look at the bottom of your sheet.”

  “Okay.”

  “See the total of the third column?”

  Alex moved his finger across the bottom of the page. “Sixty-three million, six hundred and seventy-four thousand!” His eyes wide, Alex glanced at Josh. “That’s the total they have embezzled?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is.”

  “What in the world?”

  “Go on to spread, 1-2.”

  A stunned Alex flipped to the next spread sheet.

  “See the amount I have circled about two thirds of the way down?”

  “Yes, just over thirty million.”

  “That’s the amount that has been paid back to the IRA accounts; they still have approximately thirty-three million to go.”

  Dulin paused and stared at Alex. “I’m glad you ordered the audit when you did. A few months from now the paybacks on the IRAs would have been complete and I really don’t think we would have ever caught this. This scheme was very well thought out.”

  Alex lowered his head and spoke quietly, “And Barnes did this right under my nose.”

  Dulin leaned forward and laid his hand gently on Alex’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up on this one Alex. I audit over twenty banks and your management style is one of the best I’ve seen. The other banks just don’t have a corrupt Chairman and Controller. As I explained earlier, this was a very elaborate scheme. There’s no way a CEO could know this.”

  Alex smiled. “I appreciate that, Josh, But I still…”

  Josh quickly interrupted his lamenting colleague and pressed on. “Now the question is, why would they do this? Any ideas?”

  Back on game, Alex shot back. “Yes, since the discovery of the problem during your Chicago audit, I have been giving this a lot of thought.”

  “And?”

  “I believe it’s political. I believe that Barnes and Montrose were skimming the money to help fund the Moretti Presidential Campaign. I think it was part of an aggressive effort by Barnes to gain political equity with the administration. He wants very badly to become the Ambassador to Ireland.”

  “What about the election laws concerning donations? The amount each individual can give is limited and this is such a huge amount.”

  “I know, I thought about that. They probably got a list of homeless people, or possibly even dead people, from some activist organization. Reports say there are several federally funded neighborhood organizations in Chicago that amassed thousands of phony registrations during the election. I’m sure they would have been happy to provide the necessary names and addresses.”

  “Hmm….I see. It’s obvious that Barnes and company did their homework. They probably have been replenishing those accounts with the bailout money. Montrose, more than likely, figured out a way to divert funds from the bailout to the accounts. That could be one of the reasons they don’t want me to pay back the money; they still need part of it to replenish those accounts.”

  “And, hopefully, avoid detection.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I wonder how much Moretti knows,” Dulin mused.

  “Probably not a lot. Like most politicians, he more than likely turns a blind-eye toward the facts when it comes to donations—even when he is receiving an unusually large amount from one locale. But something tells me that Ramsey might know. He and Vito Taglioni are old friends and Vito and Barnes have both been profiting mightily from this scam. I’m almost certain they’ve talked to Ramsey about it, but it will be hard to prove. The powerful have a way of insulating them-selves from prosecution.”

  “It’s disgusting.” Josh grimaced.

  “I know.”

  “What do you think Vito’s roll is in all of this?”

  “Vito and Ramsey are old friends. Barnes needed Vito’s relationship with Ramsey to pull this thing off. He may have asked Vito to feel Ramsey out to see what he thought about the scam, and at some point, Ramsey bought into it. Such things are commonplace in the windy city.”

  “Couldn’t he have done it without Ramsey’s know-ledge?”

  “Yes, but Barnes wanted Ramsey’s approval on the plan for two reasons. It gave him cover from the Feds if something went wrong and more importantly, he wanted Ramsey to know the great risks he was willing to take on the President’s behalf.”

  “To gain that equity you talked about.”

  “Of course.”

  “What’s in it for Vito?”’

  “Probably all those branch approvals. Vito’s firm has opened several branches in the Midwest over the past year. Such quick approvals are unheard of.”

  Dulin interjected, “Unless you know somebody at the top.”

  “Exactly. It appears that Ramsey probably went to work on the SEC on behalf of Vito as payback for the possible huge donations the campaign would get from the embezzlement scheme. As I said earlier, Vito has enjoyed several amazingly fast branch approvals. And, by the way, these branches are all located in the same cities where Midwest Consolidated Bank has a location. At the same time, Barnes went behind my back to get the board to relax our underwriting guidelines on mortgages which opened the floodgates. A torrent of subprime mortgages was then originated over the next several months. Vito eventually bundled the flaky loans into securities and sold them on the bond market.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Yes, and Barnes just happens to have a law office in all of the same cities.”

  “So they both got rich.”

  “Yes.”

  The accountant shook his head in disgust. “Barnes is a rich man, but I guess you never have enough money. It seems like it would have been enough for him just to achieve his political goals, but it appears he couldn’t pass up the chance to make millions in the meantime.

  “True, but Barnes is very shrewd. I think he got something a whole lot more important than money out of this. I believe Barnes was well aware that subprime mortgages are junk loans. H
e wanted our Midwest originators doing as many subprime mortgages as possible.”

  “So Vito could package them into bonds, sell them on the secondary market and then watch them fail. Then Midwest would qualify for the bailout money needed to pay back the embezzled funds.”

  “Right on.”

  Dulin paused and leaned back in his chair. He took a deep breath. “The scope of this thing is incredible. The plan these men have put into action is breathtaking.”

  “I know.” Alex glanced at his watch. “Sorry, but I only have a few more minutes; I have a staff meeting at nine. Tell me Josh, do you feel comfortable with the information you’ve gathered?”

  “Absolutely. I have everything I need. I have documented all the transactions and secured them in my safe. I will have someone bring you a copy later today. When the light finally shines on this rat hole, they won’t have anywhere to hide.”

  “Good. And, as you advised me in Chicago, let’s keep a lid on this thing until the right time.”

  “Definitely.”

  Alex rose to leave. “I’ll be in touch.”

  The men shared a handshake and Alex quickly left the office.

  Chapter 36

  “The li…li….little d…d…d…dog rah…ran…” A huge pile of unruly blond curls sat precariously atop her freckled face. Her big blue eyes looked up from the page in frustration, “This one’s too hard Mr. Gus.”

  Gus gently ruffled her thick curls, “I know honey, but let’s give it another try. “

  “Okay.”

  Gus enjoyed volunteering at St. Mary’s Elementary School in Michigan City. After a late night at the gambling boat, he crawled out of bed every Tuesday morning at 6:30 sharp and hustled over to the school. He was always the first volunteer to arrive. Gus loved the little six year-olds, who referred to him as Mr. Gus because they had trouble pronouncing his last name. He started volunteering at the school soon after arriving in town ten years ago. Over the years, he had become a well-liked and respected figure at the little elementary school. The ivy-covered red brick building, surrounded by large oak trees, reminded him of his own childhood school, St. Celestine Elementary in Elmwood Park.