“You also might want to consider, spending less time there as well. Find another place to frequent. In fact, find a half dozen places and keep rotating them. Remember, you only talk shop in bars or restaurants, when you want to feed the Feds a bunch of crap. Decoy stuff. The real conversations take place outside, on the move, in front of God and everyone. Keep your voice low and turn in different directions every minute or so that way their microphones only pick up a quarter of what you’re saying if that. Do you have your offices debugged weekly?” I asked
“What? You’re kidding right?” Holston was stunned.
“If you really work for those colorful people. Your phone is likely tapped, and they’ve bugged your office, car and your home. You are as much under investigation as your clients are.”
He was stunned as we walked along at a slow but steady pace. He didn’t speak for several minutes and then as we reached the corner next to the courthouse he stopped and said.
“Damn that makes sense. I guess I haven’t been acting very smart. I’ll get everything debugged tomorrow. So what did you find out? I mean how did you do it overnight?”
“I’m sorry it took so long. I’m new in town and don’t know my way around too well and it took time to find the morgue.” I apologized for the delay.
“I wasn’t thinking it took too long but rather I’m amazed it was done so quickly.”
“It doesn’t always work so fast, but things just feel into place.’
“So what do we have?” Holston pressed as he looked around.
“Well, to start with, your investigator was murdered. The Medical Examiner will be ruling it a homicide, an execution actually. A nine mil., a thirty-eight or thirty-two most likely was used. I’d say the message was delivered before they killed him. It was obvious by the way the big man, Michael Nolan, watched me while I was questioning members of his gang about the murder. When it was decided I wasn’t leaving on my own, they even tried to kill me as well. Nolan is hiding out in a secret back room at his club house or in a secret basement. He was very unfriendly towards me and he doesn’t even know me.”
“Plus, what’s the low down on the gang squad members for the Sheriff’s Department. They clean, dirty, what? I only ask because I ran into two of them last night coming out of The Wild Rose. They seemed to be conducting a shakedown rather than a raid for suspects. They politely asked that I forget I saw them. They were under the impression I was a reporter from the Sentinel at the time. I’m sure they’ll be checking me out quite soon and then they’ll become very concerned with what I might know.”
“Wow, I could have guessed all of that.” Holston stated.
“I guess you could have, but now you know it’s a fact without guessing, which you couldn’t have done.”
“Okay, your right about that. But this isn’t any earth shattering information.”
“You didn’t ask for earth shattering information, you asked if he was murdered, who did it and if the message got delivered. Yes, he was murdered, Yes, Nolan did it himself or had one of his henchmen do it. And yes, the message was delivered and your answer is a dead body.” I summed it all up to him.
“So you interested in doing some more leg work for me?” Holston asked.
“It depends.”
“Depends on what?” Holston asked.
“Yesterday, I told you what I needed to know before I took the job of finding out what you needed to know. You failed to disclose several things, all minor except that Nolan was part of a motorcycle gang. In fact, he runs it. If I hadn’t been on my game, I would have been killed.”
“I didn’t think you’d take the job, if I told you he was in the gang. But I did say bikers hung out there,” Holston tried to give himself partial credit for having disclosed part of the information.
“I’m afraid counselor, that you’re on probation with me now and my fee for last night is five grand not two. If you want to work together again, you’ll pay without any bellyaching and you’ll never pull that shit again.”
“Five grand for what? Your fine, not a scratch on you. Collins’ used to go into places like that all the time.”
“Then I suspect you’ll be calling him to do you next investigation. Oh no, that’s right, He’s dead. I’m not. I’m worth a lot more. Think of it as a bonus for providing the information in such a timely manner. Or think of it as a penalty for almost getting me killed and me not killing you for poetic justice.”
“So, if I pay you, we can work together?” Holston asked as he looked around refusing to make eye contact.
I replied in a clear voice, at a reasonable volume, so that he’d hear me clearly and there would be no misunderstanding. “Counselor, you’ll pay, whether you want to or not. Don’t make that mistake. Plus, as I said, you’re on probation and I’ll do another job for you, but it may be my last depending on you. If you don’t provide me, with everything you know, which isn’t always everything I want, we’ll be done. I will make your home address, child’s name, phone numbers, wife’s name and photographs of everyone available to the highest bidder, if you cheat me or try to cause me harm,” I stated coldly
“You don’t know where I live. I don’t share that with anyone and it’s not even written down in the office.”
I looked him in the eye and told him his address, phone number, his wife’s name and his daughter’s name, the school she attended, what her teachers name is, and what her last report card said. Holston went white and mumbled.
“How? How did you find all that out?”
“Just gotta know where and how to look. It’s there for anyone to see. It’s my job to know things and I’m the best. Now do we have an understanding? I don’t play fast and loose. I play to win. I don’t play by the rules and if I have to, I can be very, very bad.”
“Okay, I’m convinced.” Holston stammered, still shocked that I knew all there was to know about him and his family.
“So what’s the new job?” I asked. “I also need to know how big a threat the two cops from last night are, plus if there are any other worker bees, like Nolan who are attempting or planning on leaving the fold.”
Holston replied, “as far as I know right now, Nolan is the only problem of that nature. As for the cops. I don’t have much information other than you might check with a man called, The Oracle Mohammad. He owns a five star restaurant by the World’s Fair Park. You can’t miss it. Just follow the limousines and the other expensive cars. Be sure to wear a suit and tie. You won’t get any service without them.”
“The money I owe you will be at the office by the time you get there. See Trisha for it and some expense money. She’ll also have a package for Mohammad from me. Deliver it only to him no one else. Is that understood?” Holston was getting a little snippy, but I ignored it.
“Mohammad doesn’t share what he knows without you sharing the cash with him.” Holston continued. “Don’t try any rough stuff with the old guy either, he has body guards hiding all around him and they will kill you and make sure no one ever finds your body. Oh yeah, unless you don’t want the meet him, don’t mention my name, he thinks I’m the devils spawn.”
That was pretty harsh I thought but then, I really didn’t know Holston all that well. To me he was just another attorney. Come to think of it, damn the old fart was right, most attorneys were pure evil in my book, too.
Holston went back to court and I went to his office, where Trisha, an average looking, thirty something brunette, handed me two envelopes. One was for me and one was for the Oracle. It was twice as big as mine. The Oracle Mohammad was expensive. I took the rest of the night off to read up on corruption in the Knox County Sheriff’s Department. I was surprised that they had very little corruption and were ranked nationally as the third best Sheriff’s Department in the country. Trailing only the sheriff in Arizona, Joe Opia and the department in Branson, Missouri. I was seeing the silver lining once more. It could have been worse, much worse.
CHAPTER FIVE
The morning broke
wet. It was a rainy dreary day, perfect for a ride in the country. Yeah, right, it sucked. It was a day to stay in and read. But I needed to go and see a man about some crooked cops. It was a sign that life was getting back to normal for me. So far, my time in Knoxville hadn’t been what I normally experienced. Other than the dumb ass biker, I tased last night, I hadn’t had to rough anyone up, which was what was usually expected of the new guy in town. In my profession, you always had to prove yourself. You always start at the bottom and have to work your way up. Especially working for an attorney, who was supposedly working for some of the more colorful, people in our society.
I did my usual thing, when I’m planning on going to see someone new. I looked up the name and address of the person on the internet. The Iron Horse Restaurant leaped off the search engine page with several hundred listings. Every one singing its praise. To my surprise the Oracle Mohammad, was another extremely popular search engine subject. I clicked on the one that said it was the official site and wouldn’t you know it, Mohammad popped right up. Well I think it was him. It was just a silhouette with the words, “No photo available” stamp over it.
The Oracle Mohammad was on the net, but he didn’t quite have the usual profile. His profile was extremely vague and lacked a lot of basic information including a picture. But it did provide other information like a list of his talents. Right on the top, were soothsayer and story teller. It listed his age as timeless and his nature as righteous. When it came to listing his race it said, Deity. His favorite hobbies were creating barbeque recipes and hunting wild hog or man. He claimed they were both such crafty creatures and they made great barbeque.
When it came to his business ventures it listed The Iron Horse Restaurant, soothsaying, storytelling and fortune telling. It also listed his prices for fortune telling.
A Quick Look………………….….$ 25.00
Good Guess……………….…..…..$ 50.00
Best Guess with Details…………..$ 100.00
Nearly a Sure Thing……………....$ 150.00
A Sure Thing……………………...$ 200.00
Honest to God the Truth….………$ 500.00
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly…$ 750.00
The God’s Awful Truth…………..$ based on the person asking
The Devil’s minion need not ask. I won’t do.
He sounded like quite the character and I wasn’t looking forward to talking with the old fart. I would have much rather of just made my usual approach to the cops, one at a time and picked their brains with a Louisville slugger, but my new employer didn’t want that. He wanted me to meet with this old fart at his restaurant and so, off I went to find him.
The Iron Horse Restaurant had been a train repair shop at some point a hundred years ago. It was a huge building that looked every bit the antiquated railroad building ripe for urban renewal, except the front third that housed the restaurant. What the remainder of the structure was used for, I didn’t have a clue about. Inside the main doors, there were plaques all over the walls, showing trains and trains under repair, dating as far back the eight-forties. There were also pictures of prominent citizen’s dating from the first Mayor of Knoxville in the early eighteen hundreds up to and including the year two thousand election. There were even a few photos of Presidents standing on the rear of a train car giving speeches and of men being loaded aboard box cars dressed in Civil War uniforms. That would be the war of Northern Aggression to many of the hill folk, whose ancestors fought in the war were still living in the surrounding hills and mountains of the Knoxville area.
When I first pulled up to the Iron Horse, I was astounded by the huge number of limousines and cars that lined the street waiting for their turn to be valet parked. I passed up the line and parked my junker of a car, two blocks away uphill by what I think was a student dorm for the University of Tennessee and walked back down the hill to the restaurant.
You could tell the place was exclusive by the line for parking, the type of cars and clients it drew, plus there wasn’t another business within a half mile of the place and it was drawing a huge crowd. If you were driving too fast and you totally missed the line for parking, you would be by it in a flash and not even realize it was there. The building itself, sat back off the main road a good hundred feet, with a landscaped garden and seating area out front. There were beautiful landscaped hillocks on both sides of building as well, with pine trees on top of them that ran up and down the street from the building, hiding the fact it was in an old rail yard. Screening the view of the place from downtown and the dorms. Just past the restaurant was large fenced parking lot where they parked the valeted cars, another where they parked the limos and the guarded drive off the side street that lead to the back of the restaurant for deliveries. Everything was fenced in and attended, with several roving armed guards insuring the guest’s vehicles were safe.
As I walked down the hill to the restaurant, it was easy to see, I was clearly under dressed. Every man was wearing a suit and tie. Every woman wore a dress or a business suit. There were no children in the crowd. All of the valets and doormen were focused on the people who mattered, the one’s getting out of their limos or having their car valet parked. I slipped behind them and in the front door. As I did so, I wondered if they had security cameras in addition to the armed guards. I found out the answer two steps inside the door.
Before my eyes could adjust to the lower light setting inside The Iron Horse, I found myself met by two very large gentlemen who materialized out of thin air, or so it seemed. The larger of the two, very curtly asked, “Can I help you?”
I came up short in my stride stopping just short of colliding with the Himalayan twins. I looked up and said, “I don’t know, what is it, you do?”
The larger one then leans in my direction and says, “A tie is required.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware. I don’t normally wear a tie for any reason, so I doubt I’d would have worn one anyways, but it’s good to know.” I was my usual smart ass which got the usual response. They reached out and grabbed my arms. In most cases I would have stuffed my foot into the closest one’s groin but something told me, doing so might be the last mistake I’d ever make. So, instead I asked, “Is the Oracle Mohammad in. I’m told he’s expecting me.”
“You can give it to me and I will deliver it to him.” The large one said.
“Not a chance, Tiny. My instructions said to deliver in person and put it in his hand only.”
Immediately they let go of my arms and the circulation returned then the larger one said, “Wait here.” He then walked away leaving his buddy standing there just six inches away and breathing heavy.
“Typical crowd for a weekday?” I asked and he simply looked at me like I was a bug on his windshield. Undeterred, I continued to try and engage the behemoth. “I wasn’t prepared for the long line. Must be some special you got going today.” Still he didn’t respond. It was then that the larger behemoth returned.
“What’s your name?” he asked. I of course never tell anyone my real name right off the bat, so I was about to tell him, I was Sam Walton, when he said, “If it doesn’t match the one the Oracle gave me, then you’ll be spending an afternoon and evening in the emergency room.”
I was dumbstruck. That was my line. I told people something similar on a daily basis and now this poster child for steroids had said to me. I decided I’d make an exception this time and told him. “I’m John Carpelli.”
The big man’s expression never changed, he just turned and started to walk away saying over his shoulder, “Follow me.” To ensure I followed him, his little buddy gave me a solid nudge from behind and I quickly followed.
We walked down an entrance hall to where the hostess was directing the seating and promptly took a left turn into draped doorway. It opened up on to a hallway that was about eight feet wide and filled with people, wait staff, I assumed, they were all carrying trays of food or dishes. I was unaware that people could actually run while carrying
a large tray of food with one hand and a folding table in the other. It was impressive.
We walked down this hallway, dodging waiters and waitresses, exploding through different doorways, all along the hallway. It turned out the kitchen was on the other side of the hallway and this hallway was how the wait staff was able to move around without being too intrusive on the guest’s meal.
We’d traveled about three quarters of the way down the hallway when the lead mountain stopped and opened a door. “Step in here.” He stated in a way that didn’t allow me to refuse. So, I stepped in. When the door closed behind me, I definitely became concerned for the room was no bigger than double sized coat closet. Then it moved. It moved upward as in, it was an elevator. When it stopped the door, opened and there stood another huge man. He smiled and pointed to his right. “The Oracle will see you. Don’t make any sudden moves or raise your voice.” The man said.
“What no threat of death, if I do?” I spouted sarcastically at him.
He smiled as I stepped past him and said in a whisper, “You understood. So there was no need to be redundant.” I continued walking towards a man with his back to me without saying a word, the guy had a point.
Apparently the man I was looking for was sitting at a table next to a huge window that looked out over the main floor of the restaurant. On the opposite wall, were several built in CVC monitors showing two dozen different camera views of the restaurant and grounds.
“Mr. Carpelli, it is so good to meet you. I do hope that your association with Mr. Holston, is short but profitable.” The old man stated. The Oracle was an African American man about eighty. He had white hair on top and on his bearded face. He never took his eyes off the window as he greeted me. “Have a seat. Lunch will be served momentarily.”
“I wasn’t aware I was coming for lunch.”
“Few people do. But I like you. I can tell you’re a good man and so we will be friends.” The old man stated as though I had no say in the matter. “Don’t worry, John. In time, you’ll see I’m a good man too.”
Silver Lining - A Carpelli Adventure: Sequel To The Bestselling Thriller Fatal Mistake Page 4