Keeplock: A Novel of Crime

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Keeplock: A Novel of Crime Page 10

by Stephen Solomita


  The softer virtues, the feminine virtues, are almost unknown in the Institution. Pity? Compassion? Mercy? These are signs of weakness and weakness is a crime punishable by shankings and beatings and extortion and rape. So why did Eddie Conte save John Parker?

  I don’t remember spending much time thinking about it. Unlike Tony Morasso, Parker was no threat to our crew. As he toughened, he began to show a talent for jailing. He had an infinite supply of jokes and an equally infinite hatred for the Institution. He willingly participated in whatever scam we happened to be running and he refused to back down when challenged. He became, all in all, a model prisoner.

  I took a basic computer course while I was getting my degree in Cortlandt and John Parker had helped me with the homework. He loved computers. If they’d given him a computer while he was in protective custody, he would have done the whole five years without leaving his cell. That was why Eddie had recruited him in the first place. What I had taken for a moment of weakness had been cold calculation.

  As I already said, Eddie’s big job, like all armored car robberies, had one gigantic flaw. He had to know where the car would be and what it would carry. The penalty for heisting an armored car, especially considering Eddie’s prior record, would be severe, twenty or thirty years, even if the car turned out to be empty. But Eddie had assured me that he’d already solved that problem and his air of confidence had left no room for doubt. He was much too sharp to have settled for some half-assed scheme.

  Eddie Conte was going to get his information from the horse’s mouth. He was going to use John Parker to break into the company computer. I didn’t know how Parker would do it, because Parker had always insisted that without inside knowledge, it’s virtually impossible to get access to computer information, despite the prevailing myth that any fifteen-year-old with an IBM can steal all the secrets in the Pentagon. But he would do it. Eddie was nobody’s fool, and if he hadn’t believed that Parker would come through, he would have tossed him back to the wolves.

  THIRTEEN

  EDDIE MUST HAVE LOST his resentment somewhere on the Long Island Expressway. He greeted me with a smile, shaking his head affectionately.

  “Ya some piece of work, cuz. Some piece of work. How’d you figure it out?”

  I searched his face carefully, looking for any trace of anger, but his eyes were twinkling. He seemed as happy as a pedophile in an orphanage.

  “I always wondered about Tony Morasso,” I explained. “Why would you bring an M.O. onto the courts? That wasn’t your style, Eddie. You were always low profile, a smart con. For a while, after Morasso showed up, I lost confidence in you altogether.”

  “But you stayed. Why? Seein’ as how you didn’t trust me?”

  “Because they were my courts, too. I wasn’t gonna let you chase me off.”

  “Don’t get hot, cuz.” He put his hands out in mock defense. “You always had a short fuse.”

  He was laughing now and like good leaders everywhere, his mood was infectious. I dropped the question of who owned the courts and began to recite my lessons.

  “When you told me that Tony Morasso was in on this job and what you needed him for, it all came clear. While the rest of us were putting away mugs of prison rotgut, you were putting this heist together. You were one step ahead of us. As usual.”

  He leaned forward and took a modest bow. “What’d I always say? There’s easy time and hard time. You wanna do easy time, you gotta plan things out.”

  I nodded agreement. “So, the question I asked myself, last night before I went to sleep, was why did you bring John Parker onto the courts? He had nothing to offer. Were you doing the Mother Teresa bit? That wasn’t like you, but at least Parker wouldn’t start any wars, so I forgot about it. Now Parker makes sense. He found an untraceable way to get the information you need to do this job. The cops’ll investigate every company employee, looking for the leak. It’ll be months before they figure it out, if they ever figure it out.”

  After a polite knock, Mario appeared in the doorway with a plate of stuffed mushrooms and a bottle of red wine. He filled two glasses, dropped a couple of plates in front of us, then backed out.

  “Mario treats you like you’re the Godfather.”

  Eddie shrugged it away. “I helped him out with a shylock once and natrally he’s grateful. So what else did you figure out?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything else to figure. Two guards outside the truck and one inside … the three of us should be able to handle it.”

  He shoveled a forkful of mushroom into his mouth and chewed it slowly and thoroughly, washing it down with half a glass of wine. “You told me you wouldn’t come in until ya heard the details, but it seems like you know the details already.” A trace of annoyance slipped back into his speech, but I didn’t respond and he kept going. “So tell me what ya think, cuz. We gonna make it?”

  “If you know where the truck’ll be and what’s inside it, the only way it goes bad is if the cops happen to show up while we’re doin’ the job. But you still haven’t told me where and when.”

  “The when is April 30. The where I couldn’t tell you because the schedules for that week haven’t been made up yet.”

  “Why April 30?”

  “I take it you ain’t partial to religion.” He was teasing me.

  “C’mon, Eddie. Don’t string it out.”

  “No room for style, cuz? I’m tryin’ to put a little drama into my pitch. I mean, seein’ as how you figured everything out already, you gotta let me play with the few surprises I got left.”

  He was rebuking me. It was gentle, but unmistakably there. Just as I had placed limits on my own personal level of submission, he was reminding me that he was the boss.

  “You got a pretty good temper, yourself,” I said, smiling. “I’m not trying to take your play away, but if you want someone who can’t think for himself, you should find another boy. There’s fifty guys out there who’d spread their cheeks for a score like this.”

  He mulled it over for a moment. “No, that ain’t what I want. I gotta have one guy who’s smart enough to keep his head if we run into problems. Morasso’s already causin’ trouble. You’re gonna have to be a fuckin’ psychiatrist to keep him in line until we finish this.”

  “What kind of trouble, Eddie?” As if I couldn’t guess.

  He put down the fork and shook his head. “He’s makin’ Parker for soft. Thinks he can break Parker’s balls and get away with it. The problem is that Parker’s not gonna take it much longer and he’s not stupid enough to fight Tony with his hands. You could figure the rest out for yourself.”

  “Tony’s a complete asshole. You knew that when you brought him in.”

  “What could I say, cuz? Maybe if I could do it over again, I’d do it different.”

  It was an amazing thing to admit, but I wasn’t sure whether his confidence in me was genuine or just part of the hustle. Maybe he was catching flies with honey. Eddie, though he didn’t say it, couldn’t very well dump Morasso at this stage of the game. He’d have to kill Tony and that would lead to the kind of complications that blow jobs apart.

  “I take it you got the two of ’em holed up in some apartment,” I said. “Nice and cozy.”

  “You figure correct. I was afraid to let Tony out of my sight, but I couldn’t put him under my thumb unless I made it the rule for everybody. Which is what I did. We’re all stayin’ together until the job is done.”

  “Except me, Eddie.” I repeated it in case he missed the central message. “Except me.”

  “No exceptions.” He forked half a mushroom into his mouth.

  “I already explained my situation. If I’m not back in that shelter every night, my P.O.’s gonna put out a warrant. What if Tony blows before the job comes off? What if Parker has a heart attack and can’t push the keys on his computer? What if you get hit by a truck? What if any fucking thing goes wrong? You could always walk away and start over, but my ass would be up in Cortlandt.”

&nbs
p; “You got a point,” he admitted. “Lemme think about it. Where the fuck is Mario with the dinner?”

  “Forget the goddamn dinner.”

  He looked hurt. “I been eatin’ Annie’s cookin’ for the last month. With Tony Morasso for company. Gimme a break, already.”

  As if on cue, Mario knocked softly, then led a waiter into the room. He served us personally, sighing over the platter of meat and the bowls of rigatoni. I had less than no interest in the food. Maybe I have an Italian name, but the only culture I absorbed in my youth was criminal culture.

  Eddie cut a piece of meat and swirled it in the sauce while Mario waited like a child with a good report card. “Outta sight, cuz,” Eddie said. “As usual.”

  “Thank you. Thank you.” Mario left in triumph, taking the waiter with him.

  “You think you could handle Tony?” Eddie spoke as soon as the door closed. His voice was sharp, his interest plain. He needed me badly and he’d make whatever compromises were necessary to bring the job off.

  “Not forever, Eddie. But we’re only talkin’ about a couple of weeks. I’ve been thinking about how to control Tony since you mentioned his name. The way I see it, I can make Tony understand that if he wants to fuck with Parker, he has to take me out first. That way I become the target. Don’t forget, Tony’s already afraid of me. Like I said, we’re only talkin’ about a couple of weeks. If you think about it from that angle, it doesn’t hurt us if I go back to the shelter every night. The fact that I’m getting a special deal will make him hate me all the more. It’ll eat him up. And it’ll take his mind off Parker.”

  “And you don’t mind whackin’ him when the job’s done?”

  I’d never killed anyone and had no desire to kill anyone. And the simple fact that I might be able to kill in a moment of anger didn’t mean I could perform an execution. But that’s not something you can admit in the Institution. The myth is that every con is a merciless killer with all the conscience of a cat digesting a canary.

  “Well, don’t worry about it, cuz,” Eddie continued before I could respond with the obligatory display of prison macho. “I decided to hit the cocksucker myself. And I’m gonna make sure he’s lookin’ at me when I do him. I want him to see the shit coming.”

  I burst out laughing and, after a moment, Eddie laughed with me. “Morasso must be giving you a very hard time,” I said. I didn’t add and you’re afraid of him, too, but I filed the information away for later use. “By the way, I have a little room at the shelter. They’re using residents on the security desk. I could be a little late gettin’ back without causing problems. Might even be able to spend a night out, somewhere down the line.”

  He nodded and went back to the food, shoveling it into his mouth and smacking his lips in appreciation. “We’re stayin’ in Queens, cuz. Got an apartment in Woodside. My old lady’s stayin’ with us.”

  That admission was the last piece of the puzzle. The thought of Tony Morasso alone with his wife must have been driving Eddie crazy.

  “So how come April 30?” I asked.

  “The Pope’s comin’.”

  “You gettin blessed, Eddie? You gonna buy a fuckin’ rosary?”

  He took a yellow piece of newspaper from his shirt pocket and passed it to me with the solemnity of a priest distributing communion. It contained an article someone had cut out of the newspaper several years ago. The article was undated, but the paper was yellow with age. It was about the security measures taken to protect the Pope on what I assumed was a prior visit to New York. According to the article, the Pope’s security had required the use of 15,500 cops, more than half the force.

  “What’d you tell me a minute ago?” Eddie asked. “Didn’t ya say our only problem was if the cops happen to come on us while we’re doin’ the job? You was right, cuz, but that don’t mean we couldn’t reduce the odds.”

  I handed the newspaper back to him. “Nice touch, Eddie. Very nice. It’s like taking advantage of the terrain in a war. You don’t have to do anything. It’s already there.”

  “True. We don’t gotta do shit to make the Pope work for us. He’s comin’ and we’re gonna take advantage. But there’s still a chance we’ll get caught in the act. Even a small chance is still a chance.”

  He leaned forward, staring at me through cold eyes. It was time for the kicker he’d been holding in reserve. “This is my last job, cuz. One way or the other. And I don’t wanna have to consult a gypsy before I do it. I got somethin’ I want ya to hear. Listen close.” He took a small tape recorder out of his jacket pocket and flipped it on. A series of sharp beeps sounded, followed by a voice.

  All available units. Ten-thirteen in progress. Officer down. Shots fired. Eleven Forty-three Union Turnpike in front of the Burger King. All units, k.

  “That’s the dispatcher,” Eddie said. “The rest of it’s the cops responding.”

  Fifteen Charlie, going.

  Fifteen Bravo, going.

  C-POP, going.

  Crime One, going.

  Crime Two, going.

  Fifteen Sergeant, going.

  Fifteen George, going.

  Second Sergeant, going.

  The tape became a blur of overlapping voices. Not that it mattered. I stopped listening as soon as I got the point of the exercise. Eddie continued to stare at me and I had a sudden flash that if I pulled out now, there was the distinct possibility that my life would end sometime in the next two weeks.

  “You ain’t talkin’, cuz.” Eddie rewound the tape without taking his eyes off me.

  “You’ve a got a way with surprises, Eddie. I’ll give you that. Never know what you’re gonna do next.”

  “I know what you’re thinkin’. I’m readin’ ya mind. You’re thinkin’ about how much time you could do for killin’ a cop. You’re thinkin’ how you’d be lucky to get out in forty years. Me, I’m forty-one. That would make me eighty-one before they opened the gate. But I got three felonies on my record, cuz. Three. If I go down for this job, I’ll do twenty without the cop. That’d make me a sixty-one-year-old con with lifetime parole. No job, no education, no money. I’d rather stay in prison.”

  He paused, waiting for a response, but I just shrugged my shoulders. “The point is not to get caught,” he continued. “I got new i.d.’s for all of us. The best, cuz. Passport, social security card, driver’s license. Yours’ll be made as soon as you say you’re comin’ in with us. After the job is done, we’re gone. The cop I got in mind is guardin’ a witness on the other side of the precinct from where we’re doin the job.”

  “Wait a second, Eddie. You told me you didn’t know where the job was going down.”

  He wasn’t happy to be interrupted, but he couldn’t very well dispute my right to ask the question. He took a deep breath and let his eyes drift away from me.

  “I got a target, but it’s only probable.” He leaned forward, jabbed his fork in my direction. “For the last month there’s been a truck that makes pickups at department stores. They do Alexander’s, A & S and Macy’s on Queens Boulevard, then three Waldbaum’s supermarkets, then Stern’s in Bayside. I haven’t been sittin’ on my ass, waitin’ for April 30. That’s not my way of doin’ things. I study, cuz. I study all the fuckin’ time. Like you used to put your face in those books when you was gettin’ your school? That’s the way I been with those schedules.”

  “I believe you, Eddie. There’s no other way to do it, if you wanna do it right. But why the cop? What’s the point of doin’ the cop?”

  “You worried about a pig, cuz?”

  Of course, I couldn’t be worried about a “pig.” I might be worried about the consequences, but not about the human being wearing the uniform. “It’s too much, Eddie. You wanna control everything and you can’t do it. Maybe the armored car’ll break down before it gets to us. Maybe we should have a tow truck ready, just in case.”

  “It ain’t that simple. This Stern’s I got in mind is set in a little valley. The loading docks are behind the store, and the only custom
ers who go back there are pickin’ up shit too big to come through the front doors. There’s a steep hill back there, too. Very steep. That fuckin’ dock is completely hidden from the street unless you walk right to the edge of the hill, which is I what I been doin’ every Saturday for the last month.

  “The first time I was there, I thought the setup was a gift from fuckin’ God. The truck pulls up, the guards come out and go inside the store. They don’t even have their weapons drawn. Twenty minutes later, they come out with two canvas bags and their .357s in their hands. They walk back to the truck and signal the guard inside, who opens the door and takes the bags.

  “What could be better? We’ll know the schedule exactly. Twenty minutes before they pull up, we walk back to the loading dock like ordinary customers and persuade the two assholes workin’ the platform to wait in the closet while we’re doin’ the job. Then we take the two guards before they go into the store, when they’re walkin’ around with their dicks in their hands.”

  “Back up a second, Eddie. You know for a fact there’s only two workers on the loading docks?”

  “Two workers, cuz. Except when they take a delivery. When the big trailers drive up, they pull a few boys out of the stockroom to unload. But they don’t get deliveries on Saturday afternoon, capisch?”

  I looked down at my plate, found it as clean as it had been when Mario laid it in front of me. “There’s a problem somewhere,” I finally said. “It’s like getting hustled. When it sounds too good to be true, it usually is.”

  “Smart, cuz. Very smart. The bullshit here is that two out of the four times I been there, a fuckin’ cruiser came by while the truck was pickin’ up the money. Bayside’s a low-crime neighborhood and I guess the pigs ain’t got much else to do. Well I’m gonna give ’em somethin’ real intrestin’ to occupy their time.”

  “Why not go somewhere else? Find another target?”

 

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