Keeplock: A Novel of Crime

by Stephen Solomita

  “Now the thing is that the transmitter on a small listening device doesn’t have much range, so we couldn’t sit in a nice warm apartment and eavesdrop on Spinelli’s communications. Avi and I had to put all our equipment—the receiver, the modem, the computer, and the telephone—into the back of a van and sit in front of Spinelli’s building for almost a week before we got the details. The damned van had an exhaust leak. If we kept it running so we could have heat, the stink made us want to vomit. On the other hand, this was early March, so if we shut the engine down, we froze our asses.

  “Avi’s from Israel, where they don’t have any winter, and he doesn’t care for the cold, but we kept at it until we got the access codes we needed. Then, still working from the van, I got into the program that controls who gets access to what part of the system and simply added an executive, complete with telephone number and personal access codes.” He reached out and tapped the computer. “Now everything comes and goes from right here, and once we have the final schedule, our fictitious executive will disappear forever.”

  “Does that mean we can’t be traced?” It was too good to be true.

  “Chapman or the cops could go over every phone call originating from the computer. Eventually they’d come up with our phone number. But it would take months, and the phone we’re using to communicate with Chapman’s computer actually belongs to a man who lives across the street. We took it right off the telephone pole in front of the building.”

  “Avi again?”

  “Right. The guy across the street lives alone and he works. That means we have all day to use his phone. Personally, I don’t think the cops’ll ever figure it out. The tap we put on Spinelli’s phone has already been removed, and the extra line from the telephone pole will come down as soon as we get the final schedule. But what’s more important is that between the Pope’s visit and the diversion with the cop, the chance that we’ll get caught in the act is so small it’s almost nonexistent.”

  “Are you trying to say it’s the perfect crime?”

  To my surprise he took the question seriously. “I survived in prison,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think I would, but I did. That doesn’t mean I want to go back. If I thought there was any way this job could go wrong, I’d walk away from it. Now, maybe you see something I don’t see. If you do, I’d appreciate your telling me what it is.”

  I could have told him but I just shook my head. I didn’t have the heart to burst his murderous bubble.

  NINETEEN

  I STAYED WITH PARKER throughout the morning. We played computer games. John had more than a hundred of them stored in the computer’s memory and he was phenomenally skilled, blasting aliens with no more conscience than if they’d been cops sitting in front of a house in Bayside. As a young teenager, I’d spent my time away from the Institution in Times Square arcades. I’d disdained the newly arrived computer games, like Space Invaders, in favor of the traditional pinball machine. Still, the games in Parker’s computer got my competitive motor running and I spent the better part of three hours chopping away at monsters who responded to my violence by returning in ever greater numbers.

  By the time Annie stuck her head in the door, I’d been stuck on the fifth level of a game called “The Saurian Labyrinth” for half an hour.

  “Eddie wants to talk to you for a minute,” she said. “If what ya doin’ ain’t too important.” She nodded at the game in progress. My hero, unattended, was being stabbed to death. He was screaming in agony as a dozen helmeted lizards drove their swords into the top of his head.

  “John,” I said, “I’m gettin’ a little tired of being killed every five minutes. I’ll see ya later.”

  I started to get up, but Parker restrained me. “I can’t tell you,” he said, “how glad I am to see you, Pete.” He hesitated for a moment, clearly embarrassed. “You’re a good guy. For a convict, of course.”

  “You’re a sweetheart, too, John.” What else could I say? Friendship is acceptable in the Institution. As long as you don’t dishonor yourself by talking about it.

  “I mean it, Pete. We needed somebody to bring us together. Morasso’s a lunatic. Avi never leaves his room. Eddie sits in his office like a king. We needed someone who can talk with everyone.”

  I left before he could say anything else. Annie led me down to the first floor, then turned to face me.

  “The way you handled Tony,” she said. “It was great. You took him down like he was nothin’.”

  Her dark brown eyes—whether she knew it or not—glittered with lust. Looking at her, I could understand why she was in love with Eddie. All it would take was the tip of my finger tracing a line from her ear to the soft hollow in her throat …

  If I tried for her—even if I didn’t succeed—and Eddie found out about it, he’d have to come after me. Maybe the job would explode along with his temper. Maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with Condon and Rico.

  “Tony doesn’t know how to fight,” I said. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.”

  “Yeah, but you’re dangerous, too. And you know how to fight.”

  She was wearing dark blue sweatpants. They were big on her, the crotch loose and yielding. If I let my right hand do what it wanted to do, I’d find the soft flesh between her legs moist and open. I indulged myself in a moment’s fantasy, then smiled and said, “Eddie’s waitin’, Annie.”

  She turned and walked off toward the back of the apartment. I watched her buttocks rise and fall for a moment, then heard Eddie’s voice coming from one of the small bedrooms. He was on the phone, but I couldn’t make out the words. He hung up as I walked into the room.

  “Is this the principal’s office?” I asked, noting the solemn expression on his face. I was going to get chewed out, no question about it.

  “Pull up a chair, cuz,” Eddie said. He was sitting behind a small metal desk. “You want a cup of coffee or somethin’?”

  “Coffee wouldn’t hurt. Light and sweet.”

  “Annie, get the coffee. And bring in some sandwiches.”

  “Anything particular?”

  I looked at her closely, but I couldn’t see any sign of resentment.

  “Whatever you got,” Eddie said, “and close the door on your way out.” He waited until she was gone before starting in on me. “You should’na done what you done, cuz.” I started to interrupt, but he cut me off with a hard look. “This ain’t the time for wise-guy answers. I told you I didn’t want no drugs before the job and you show up, on ya first fuckin’ day, with a bundle of dope. This ain’t the right way. It don’t show respect.”

  “You told me to handle it,” I said. “You didn’t say how I should do it. What’d you think, I was gonna spend the next two weeks poundin’ on his head? He wouldn’t be much use to us if I put him in the hospital.”

  “That ain’t the point.” He leaned forward, his palms on the top of the desk between us. For a moment I thought he was going to come after me. “The point is that you didn’t come to me first. And the reason you didn’t come to me is that you figured I’d turn ya down. So what you did, cuz, was run a scam. You’re runnin’ it right now. Pretending that I gave you permission, when ya know you shoulda come to me first. What I gotta ask myself is what the fuck you’re gonna do next? What’s the next fuckin’ surprise?”

  We had one of those long silences while I tried to guess the proper response. The fact that I was in serious danger didn’t help me concentrate on the problem. When I spoke, I was careful to show respect but not fear.

  “You’re right, Eddie. I didn’t tell you because I was sure you wouldn’t go along. But try putting yourself in my position. If I settled for beating him down, I’d have to be watching my back every minute. Tony would kill me without thinking twice about it. Without worrying about whether Eddie Conte would approve or disapprove.”

  “He’s still dangerous. Whatta you wanna bet that a couple of days from now, when he’s used to bein’ stoned, he starts in again? And if you increase the number of bags,
he’s gonna be too fucked-up to do the job.”

  “I was figurin’ to cut him off two days before we go. By the time he sees that truck, he’ll be crazy enough to scare the devil himself. He’ll see that armored car as one big pile of dope.”

  “Another plan you didn’t tell me about? Another fuckin’ surprise? What is it, Pete, April Fool’s Day? Did I forget to check my calendar this morning?”

  “Look, Eddie, I get the message. You want me to walk, just say so.” Of course he couldn’t let me out. He had the same problem with me as he did with Morasso. The only way to get rid of us was to kill us, and that option created more problems than it solved.

  “What I want is no more surprises, cuz. None.” He banged the top of the desk with his fist. “You get a brilliant idea, come to me first. No excuses. No bullshit. No wise-guy answers.” He waited for me to get the point, but the message I received, which should have been obvious from the beginning, was if he’d already decided to eliminate Morasso, how did I know he hadn’t decided to eliminate me as well? He talked about one big score and out, but a third of $750,000 wouldn’t buy him a piece of that fantasy. Half of $750,000 might do it. All would do it for sure.

  It wasn’t going to come to that, but I filed the information away, then flashed him my sweetest smile. “No more problems, Eddie. I’m with you a hundred percent. I should’ve spoken to you before I brought the dope into your house, but I only thought of it on the way here this morning. That’s the truth. I thought of it and I knew it would work. You remember I was on the psychological annex in Cortlandt for a month? I saw drugs like Thorazine and Haldol turn maniacs into puppies.”

  The conversation might have continued indefinitely if Annie hadn’t shown up with the coffee and sandwiches. I was determined not to show fear, and fear was what Eddie wanted to see. When Annie put the food down, Eddie took the opportunity to relax.

  “It went all right,” he admitted. “Morasso’s calm and that’s one less thing to worry about.” He picked up a sandwich and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. “I got a few things I want you to do this afternoon. First, I’m giving you a car. A shiny red Ford. It might be that I need you in a hurry and it’s a forever trip on that fuckin’ subway. The car’s rented and the papers are in the glove compartment. This afternoon take the car and go on a little shopping trip. Go to Stern’s in Little Neck and look it over. Think of it like you was plannin’ the job. Then drive over to where the cop’s staked out and do the same thing. Here’s another five hundred. Dope is expensive, so you’re gonna need it. And here’s your i.d. Check it out.”

  The package included a passport, a social security card, and a driver’s license. They looked good to me, but I’m not an expert. “Where’d you get the picture?”

  “Ya don’t remember how I liked to use my little Polaroid when we was on the courts?” He was grinning now, proud of himself. “I try to think of everything, cuz. Maybe that’s why I don’t like surprises. That passport will get you through customs. I know, because I already took a little trip to Mexico. Lookin’ for a place to relocate.”

  “You’re some piece of work, Eddie. You never stop.”

  “That’s a compliment, right?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Two other things. From now on, you give the dope to me and I give it to Tony. No arguments. What I’m gonna do is control the situation. Second, three days before the job, you’re movin’ in with us. Nobody’s gonna run you down in three days and besides, when Tony finds out there’s no more dope till after the job, he’s gonna need supervision. Intense supervision, if you catch my drift.”

  I got up and began to move toward the door. “You sure you don’t wanna come along?”

  “I got things to do, cuz. Better you should see it fresh. Also, I almost forgot, tomorrow I got a little treat for ya. Big Momma’s comin’.”

  “To see me? She must’ve liked my smile. Or maybe it’s my boyish charm.”

  “Hey, cuz, she’s comin’ because I’m payin’ her. She’s a whore.” Eddie grinned maliciously. “An expensive whore, but still a whore.”

  “She doing the other guys, too?”

  “Wear a rubber.”

  I was on my way out the door when Avi called to me from the top of the stairs. I trotted up and he led me into his room. In the lower apartment, the kitchen and the living room were fully furnished, but the rest of the house was almost barren. Eddie hadn’t given himself luxuries he denied the others. The lower apartment was a front; its sole purpose was to impress unexpected visitors. Avi’s room was bare except for a bed, a chair, a lamp, and a table. The table was covered with rifle parts.

  “Cleaning up?” I asked amiably.

  “Over there is AK47 and Galil. All parts mixed up. I am learning to put them together in darkness.”

  I grunted my appreciation. Avi lived for his weapons like Parker lived for his computer. “Which one are you gonna use on the cop?”

  “I would not use such weapon for that job. For sniping I use bolt-action hunting rifle with scope. Large caliber. I have not yet decided which one.”

  “Ya know, Avi, I’ve been wanting to ask you something. You’re gonna kill the cop, right?”

  “Yes. I have been to the site and it will be easy. I will not miss.”

  “I never even considered the possibility that you might miss. That’s not what I want to ask you about. See, I wasn’t in on the original planning, so there’s a lot of details I don’t know about. For instance, if the purpose of shooting the cop is to create a diversion, why not put a few rounds into the patrol car instead of the cop? Blow out the windows and tires. The result would be the same, right?”

  Instead of answering, he fished out his pipe and filled it with tobacco. Pipes are forbidden in the Institution—it’s too easy to turn a pipe into a weapon—but Avi hadn’t switched to cigarettes during his years in Cortlandt. He’d done without. It was the soldier’s way, the German way. Despite being a Jew from Israel, Avi’s blond hair and solid features, his upright posture and ice-blue eyes, proclaimed his family’s heritage. He looked Aryan as hell.

  “First,” he announced, “this question is not for Avi Stern. This question is for Eddie. Eddie is commander for this job. Second, if cop is not dead or wounded, other cops who are responding will fan out to search area. If cops see blood, they will wait to see if wounded cop is dead.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you? Killing this cop?”

  He shrugged. “I have killed so many. It is all the same to me. Now you have asked me these questions and I am answering for you, but you are not to be asking me again. Operation is set. I would not like to see changes.” He paused, but I didn’t respond. “I have called you up for a reason. You remember old girlfriend? Ginny?”

  My heart flopped over in my chest, but I kept my face composed. “How could I forget?”

  “I have seen her. She is working in real estate office. In Flushing on Union Street. Ling-Teng Realty. Near Northern Boulevard. I watch her go into office and sit behind desk.”

  “Did she see you?”

  “Yes. She gave me greeting, but she was not wanting to be near me. I do not think she likes to remember.”

  “Did she mention my name?”

  His eyes softened for a moment. “It was only very quick I saw her. Just saying hello and going our ways.”

  TWENTY

  EDDIE’S HOUSE IN WOODHAVEN was only a mile and a half from the Long Island Expressway. The L.I.E., if I’d taken it, would have dumped me off within sight of the small shopping center in Douglaston that housed our target, but I chose a longer route. I went north along the Grand Central Parkway, then exited at Northern Boulevard in Flushing. One or another of the city’s ten thousand agencies was tearing up the road and I had plenty of time to look around. Flushing had changed during the years I’d been in the Institution. Before, it had been a white working-class neighborhood with a few black enclaves. Now a majority of the shop signs were written in Chinese or Korean with an English translation below.


  I didn’t take the turn at Union Street, even though I could see the real estate office—Ling-Teng—as I drove past. It’d been ten years and more betrayals than I could count. With no hope of a warm reception, I couldn’t see the point of opening those wounds again.

  How is it possible to love a woman and exploit her at the same time? I’d treated Ginny like I’d treated Simon Cooper, promising reform while relentlessly pursuing a criminal career. Coming home with pockets full of unexplained cash. Or sick and broke after a week of dedicated drug abuse.

  Ginny had taken me back each time, though not always without complaint. This, in itself, isn’t surprising. If you’re not willing to settle for a woman whose predatory instincts match your own, you have to go with a woman who wants to reform you, who sees something worthwhile in your black soul. The drug-hungry women you find on the street are expensive. You have to feed their habits as well as your own. Women like Ginny have regular jobs, clean apartments, stocked refrigerators.

  It’s a wonderful life. As long as you don’t fall in love.

  I’d run directly from Armando Ortiz and the blood in the bodega to Ginny’s apartment in Astoria, waking her as I walked through the door. The disappointment in her face was expected, but I was too wild to deal with it. I paced the floor for hours, until the cocaine passed out of my system and exhaustion overcame me. By that time, Ginny had gone off to work and I was able to sleep through the day.

  I was still asleep when she came home, still fully dressed. She sat at the edge of the bed and gently shook me awake, suggesting a shower. I looked up into her face, knowing that she loved me and that I loved her and that I couldn’t stop what I was doing to her. As I undressed, peeling away my sweaty clothes, I remembered the ring I’d taken from the bodega. I fished it out of my pocket and held it up.

  “I bought this for you,” I announced grandly.