Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk

by Neal Goldstein

  “But why would Nooris get involved with Flynn and the Saudi in the art heist?”

  “Ego, hubris, who knows? Nooris went rouge when he was passed over for the top spot in the Mossad several years ago. Apparently he backed the wrong side in the Israeli elections. If you think our brand of politics is a dirty game, I hear it pales in comparison to the hardball they play over there. They play for keeps,” Keel smiled and said, “Here the losers become pundits and go on television or write books and turn into millionaires, over there they end up in prison or worse,” Keel said and shrugged his shoulders.

  “How about Rabinowitz, what’s his story?”

  “Rabinowitz and the girl Shona Cohen, were Nooris’ assets back when he was in the Mossad. They are completely loyal to him. He selected them, trained them and both of them would take a bullet for him.”

  “Are you telling me that Nooris put Rabinowitz in deep cover just to use him for the Barnes job?” Regan asked.

  Keel thought over his response and said, “Probably not; my guess is he had Rabinowitz in place for something else, but when the opportunity to use him for his personal gain came up, he took advantage of it.”

  Regan stared at Keel and asked, “So what’s going to happen to you?”

  Keel shook his head and said, “Someone has to pay for the screw up that left three killers on the loose. I’ll either be reassigned to some backwater post never to be seen or heard from again, or retired.”

  Regan shook his head and said, “Howard, just thank your lucky stars this isn’t Israel.”

  Ichowitz filled Jack in on the status of the manhunt for the escaped terrorists. Despite the manpower of the Philadelphia Police Department and the FBI, there was no trace of either man. The consensus opinion of the authorities was that they had fled the area, perhaps even the country.

  “Izz, I know everyone believes that Nooris and his associate are long gone, but my gut tells me that they’re still here,” Regan said as he handed the summaries of the dragnet reports back to Ichowitz.

  “Why would they remain in Philly?” the detective asked.

  “Ari Nooris has lived here on and off for most of his life. He knows this town like the back of his hand. He has to know that his picture has been given to every local and federal law enforcement officer up and down the east coast. Where better to wait until the heat is off?”

  “So if we can figure out where he may be holed up, you think we may be able to recapture Nooris and Rabinowitz?” Ichowitz asked.

  “Yeah, and maybe Shona too.”

  FORTY-NINE

  The Arts Condos, formerly the Sylvania House at 1324 Locust Street had seen better days. It had survived the down decades before the neighborhood east of South Broad Street had been given a tony new name, “West Washington Square,” and the gay community had moved in and began the gentrification process that had transformed the area into a cool and desirable place to live. The Arts Condos would eventually benefit from the energy and money the young professionals would spend on renovating their apartments. At present the building still looked more like the old Sylvania House, in need of a major facelift. Many of the units were still vacant. The economic downturn had halted, for the time being, the inevitable restoration that would eventually make millionaires of the urban pioneers and real estate speculators.

  Ari Nooris and Nochem Rabinowitz, now Ed Mankowitz and Harry Oshansky, waited for the rental agent to complete the lease agreement for the two bedroom unit on the second floor. “You’re sure you don’t want the unit on the thirteenth floor with the view of the Kimmel Center? It’s already been renovated and it’s only $500 a month more,” he asked Nooris/Mankowitz.

  “My companion is very superstitious and would never think of staying on the thirteenth floor,” Nooris/Mankowitz said as he placed a protective arm around Rabinowitz/Oshansky. “Would you Harrila?”

  The two men had transformed themselves from their former persona to a flamboyant gay couple. Rabinowitz had shaved his head bald and cut his beard to a stylish goatee. He wore a pair of oversized emerald earrings that matched the ring on the third finger of his left hand. He wore the new skinny jeans and a tight tee shirt that emphasized his well toned body. He smiled at the rental agent and the gold cap on his front tooth sparkled in the sunlight that filled the room.

  Nooris/Mankowitz had dyed his hair silver and added blue highlights. He wore heavy stage make-up to create the impression that he was trying to look younger than the middle age look he had affected with the cosmetic bags under his eyes, puffed up jowls and false teeth, all of which had added a good ten years to his appearance. He also wore an emerald ring on his finger that matched his companion’s ring.

  They paid the agent the two month’s rent and a security deposit in cash. Since the entire transaction was less than $10,000, the rental agent did not have to report the cash to any authority. Nooris assumed the agent would not report the transaction, or at least the entire amount, to the condo unit’s owner either, and that was fine with him. The less people who knew about their arrangement the better he liked it.

  The unit they had selected fit their needs to perfection. It was at the rear of the apartment building near the fire escape. Nooris and Rabinowitz fixed the emergency exit door so that they could enter and exit the building without having to use the lobby entrance on Locust Street. The emergency exit opened to an alley between the apartment building and a ten foot high wall of a parking garage. Rabinowitz cut the wire to the overhead lamp outside the exit leaving the alley in near total darkness at night.

  They watched the local news reports of their escape from the federal authorities. They looked nothing like the mug shot images that flashed across the screen. One of the broadcasts included an interview of Vito Coratelli who agreed with the assessment of how dangerous the escapees were, and dramatically ended the interview by emphatically claiming, “They murdered my son!” as he pointed at the camera. Nooris assumed that Shona now knew of both their apprehension and escape. He would leave her a message revising their original plans, if it wasn’t already too late. They had escaped eight hours ago. If everything went as planned they would leave the country within forty-eight hours.

  He needed to find out who had leaked the information to the authorities that had led to their arrest. Nooris was certain that the old detective Ichowitz, or his sidekick the Police Commissioner’s son, would know. There would be considerable risk in getting to either of these men in the time frame he had in mind. A third less high risk option was Coratelli, the father of the junkie Nooris had eliminated. There was something about his performance during the televised interview that bothered Nooris. Although Coratelli was more accessible, Nooris wasn’t sure that he knew who had provided their whereabouts to the police. His other option of course was to just walk away. After all, he had the Arab’s money. It had been transferred from one of Sheik Nazeur’s accounts to Nooris’ Cayman Island bank before they had been taken into custody. But to just walk away was not his nature.

  “Looks like your pal Nooris and his accomplice who’s the spittin image of Osama Bin Laden, broke out of jail,” Danny Duffy said as he nodded at the flat screen television above the bar in the back room of his tavern.

  Michael Flynn nodded.

  “Flynn, is there anything I should be concerned about?”

  “Nothin at all, I’ve got it covered; don’t you be worryin about the likes of them,” Flynn replied.

  The older man stared at him as if he was looking through him and said, “That sounds like a line of malarkey to me, boyo. Ya know we have ya ready to ship outta town tonight. Should we be revisin the schedule so that you can take care of any onfinished business?”

  Flynn turned away from the newscast and responded, “Duffy, I’d appreciate the gesture.”

  “Should I be warnin O’Malley to keep an eye out as well?” Duffy asked.

  “I don’t know if that’s necessary. I mean, why worry the old man and Kate? They’ve been through enough when the boy went miss
in for all that time after the attack and all.”

  Duffy stared at Flynn and said, “Well here’s how it’s gonna be. I’ll have some of the boys keep an eye on O’Malley and his niece and your son. Here, take this.”

  He handed Flynn a bag. “What’s in the bag?” he asked.

  “It’s a fully loaded Smith and Wesson M&P .357 revolver with the serial number filed off and an extra magazine.”

  “I’m an art thief. Why are you giving me this?”

  “Just in case; ya never know what ya might encounter,” Duffy said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Flynn lifted his pint and said, “Thank you.”

  Duffy gave him a knowing look and said, “We take care of our own.”

  Shona was relieved to learn that Ari and Rabinowitz had escaped. She assumed they had been arrested when Ari had not contacted her as previously arranged. She had checked the drop earlier that day. There was still no message. She was confident that as soon as Ari was sure it was safe he would reach out to her. Until she received orders to the contrary, she decided that she should go ahead and complete the mission.

  Ari had told her he had been contacted by certain people who needed to eliminate a certain party in Philadelphia. It all had something to do with a recycling plant. The “why” never was an issue for her; the “who” was all she needed to know.

  She checked out her appearance to make certain that she had struck the perfect “butch-bad girl on the make” look. She wore a black leather jacket over a tight black hooded sweatshirt and tight black jeans and leather boots with high heels. The bouncer at 12th Air Command waved her in ahead of a number of ladies who were already lined up at the entrance. She turned and stared down one of the more vocal objectors who had called her a “skinny bitch.” The bouncer shrugged his shoulders and smiled as he held open the door.

  Shona saw her sitting alone at the bar. She took the stool next to her and told the bartender, “I’ll have a Jack and Coke, and put it on her bill,” and nodded at the woman to her left.

  “What the fuck,” Dorothy Wiggins said.

  Shona gave her a seductive smile and said, “I heard you’re a bulldog in the courtroom. That true?”

  Wiggins gave her an appraising look and watched as Shona took a sip of her cocktail. “And who told you that?” she asked.

  Shona shrugged and replied, “It’s what they say about you Ms. Wiggins.”

  “Do I know you, Miss…?”

  “Brittany. Brittany Stone,” Shona said extending her hand to Wiggins.

  Wiggins took Shona’s hand in hers and held it for an extended moment.

  “And why is it that you need an attorney, Miss Stone?”

  “I hear there’s a warrant out for my arrest; something to do with hacking into some corporation’s computer system, or something like that.”

  “And I assume that you are innocent, and know nothing about these allegations,” Wiggins replied.

  “Ms Wiggins, if I was innocent and knew nothing about the charges I wouldn’t need a lawyer now, would I?”

  Wiggins lifted her martini in a mock toast and said, “My, my, an honest woman. That’s something I’m not accustomed to encountering in my line of work. Miss Stone, since you apparently have heard that I’m a, how did you refer to me?”

  “A bulldog in the courtroom,” Shona replied.

  “Yes, how flattering. Anyway bulldogs like me don’t work for doggie treats,” Wiggins said.

  Shona leaned over and stuck her tongue in Wiggins’ ear and said, “I think we may be able to work something out. Don’t you?”

  FIFTY

  Ichowitz realized that with every passing hour the odds of recapturing Nooris and his associates were diminishing. He believed that Avi Nooris, Ari’s half brother, had told them everything he knew about his older sibling’s various enterprises, both legitimate and otherwise. Ichowitz had concluded that Ari must have decided long ago that his brother neither had the intellect or the capacity to carry out the criminal activities in which he was involved. Avi had been intentionally kept in the dark concerning the full scope of the Mall attack and the rest of his brother’s endeavors.

  The detective knew that Ari’s smartest play was to get as far away from Philadelphia, probably out of the country, as quickly as possible. As an experienced former Mossad agent, Nooris must already have at his disposal the necessary resources and a comprehensive escape plan in place. Ichowitz could not, however, dismiss out of hand Jack’s gut feeling that Nooris was still in the area, although he could think of no rational reason to support this conclusion.

  Ichowitz was trying to let his young friend have some quality time with Kate O’Malley and Liam. He could see that Jack had finally allowed himself to move on with his life. The detective was still concerned that Michael Flynn, the art thief who had played a pivotal role in the foiled Barnes Foundation robbery, was a continuing threat to the O’Malley family. Although Vito Coratelli refused to disclose the source of the information that had led to the Nooris gang’s capture and the return of the missing masterpieces, Ichowitz was convinced that Flynn was somehow involved in this aspect of the case as well. Once again, however, Ichowitz could not come up with any rational explanation for this conclusion either.

  And who had murdered Megan Larson, and why? All of this began with the murder of the young woman who was going to be Jack Regan’s star witness before the Grand Jury in the Dorothy Wiggins municipal corruption case. What had initially appeared to be a simple homicide investigation had morphed into a multiple homicide, terrorist attack, and an international art heist. If the information Avi Nooris had provided the authorities was accurate, with the exception of the Larson case they would be able to successfully prosecute all of those responsible for all of the other crimes, assuming they could capture the actors. Once again, Ichowitz believed that the evidence that could solve that mystery was available, but for reasons he could not understand, his friend at Homeland Security was withholding information that would reveal the identity of the individual, or individuals involved in the Larson homicide.

  He decided that he would take another shot at Vito Coratelli. After numerous battles in many different courtrooms in countless cross examinations over nearly three decades, they had become friends. Ichowitz was more than a little concerned that Vito would try to avenge his son’s murder; it was, after all, the Sicilian way. If Nooris was involved in the murder, and if he was still in the area, any attempt by Coratelli to extract “justice” could be extremely dangerous. Ichowitz would need all of his skill to convince his friend to be forthcoming as to the identity of his source. The only way to assure that those responsible for his son’s murder and the other crimes were brought to justice was to re-apprehend Nooris and his gang.

  “Kate, you seem distracted. Is there something wrong?” Regan asked. He had been looking forward to a pleasant evening with Kate and Liam at his place. In all of the turmoil that they had been through in the wake of the attack on the Mall, this was the first time he felt that Kate and Liam were safe. Kate had been so excited about returning to Manayunk, and yet now her discomfort was palpable. Was Michael Flynn back in the picture, or had Jack done something to bring this about?

  Jack had waited until Liam went to bed to ask her what had gone wrong. She was standing in front of the fireplace staring at the picture of Susan that still sat on the mantel. “Jack, were you and your wife thinking of having a family before she became ill?” she asked in response to his question.

  “Yes, when Susan completed her training. Why?”

  She turned and looked at him there were tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked as he took her in his arms.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  She nodded.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s wonderful. I mean that’s great! We’re going to have a baby! When are we going to have a baby?”

  “In about six months or so.”

/>   She looked at him as if he were crazy. “How can you be so happy about this?” she asked.

  Now it was his turn to look at her as if she was daft and replied, “Because I love you, and I love Liam, and we can become a family.”

  “So you don’t think I trapped you?”

  “Katey, I want to marry you. I want to adopt Liam. I want us, all of us, to be together. Isn’t that what you want?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you’ll marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we tell my family and O’Malley?”

  He kissed her and said, “We’re going to have a baby!”

  Ichowitz’ phone chirped as he was turning onto 8th Street about six blocks from Coratelli’s home on Christian Street. He could see from the caller ID that it was Jack.

  “Boychik, I thought I told you to take the night off and have some fun with your Kate and Liam,” he said.

  “Izz, I have some great news to share with you. Kate and I are getting married and we’re going to have a baby!”

  “Jack, that’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for you and Kate and Liam. You’ll make a perfect family.”

  After they discussed all of the details of his impending marriage and baby, Jack asked, “Izz, where are you? Aunt Ida told me you went out on some urgent business. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing to worry about; I thought I would try to reason with Vito Coratelli and see if he would tell me his source. I just have a feeling that Nooris and his friends are still hanging around. Maybe if we find out who gave Vito the tip that led to their capture we could get lucky again.”

  “Do you really think Nooris and his associates are still here?” Jack asked.