“Hi, Randal Boone.” She shook his hand. “Agent Sydney Price. A bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“Huh?” He followed her nod. “Oh! Well no. I mean yes.” He stammered and his lips went together again. “But really, no.”
They stood facing each other, their hands still clasped, until finally Sydney released her grip. “Care to explain?” she prodded.
“Erm, well, those are television folk and well me, see.” Randal lifted his press badge showing black and bold lettering that read, “ALGONQUIN PRESS”. He smiled and though he wasn’t handsome, there was something charming about Randal in a forgettable sense. “Nine hundred and fifty-two subscriptions.”
He chuckled and Sydney allowed a small chuckle as well. Truth be told, it helped a small amount of her stress dissipate.
“This really is tragic,” Randal said. He turned to her almost as an afterthought. “Hey, off the record, any leads on who did this?” He wrinkled his brow, rolled his lips into tight little balls. Then he waved his hand at the mall. “This cowardly act.”
“Off the record?” she confirmed.
Randal nodded is agreement.
“Truthfully, we have some leads, but not a ton to go on. I wish we had more.” Sydney sighed and ran her hands through her hair again.
“I hope you catch the Russian bastards.” Randal yawned, but instead of covering his mouth he held the hand out to Sydney.
I wonder which ass clown leaked that we had Russians on the radar.
She smiled at Randal’s not-so-subtle way of letting on that he knew more than she thought he did. She clasped his hand, catching a twinkle of his eye.
“Nice to meet you, Agent Price.”
“You too, Mr. Boone.”
Randal pulled a pen and pad of paper from his back pocket and began the long walk towards the front of the mall where the crowd of reporters and their cameramen were setting up shop. She almost laughed when she saw him stumble forward and almost knock over an unsuspecting Agent Moreland. Moreland looked like somebody shit in his cereal, but accepted Boone’s apology and handshake before he shuffled off again. Sydney shook her head and walked back towards the command center feeling a bit less frazzled. There she encountered a smiling Briggs.
“We got the phone, and Agent Conrad pulled a list of numbers,” he waved at Conrad who commandeered the other FBI agent’s computer post. He hammered away at the keys and seemed to not even notice the hustle and bustle around him. “He is cross-referencing the phone records with NSA and FBI databases, looking for a hit on priority phone numbers.”
Sydney nodded, “Agent Conrad, make sure you pull from both the recognized database as well as the black list.” The black list was a list of numbers not officially recognized as priority. The list included numbers of informants, undercover agents, as well as those the FBI wasn’t “officially” investigating. “We don’t want to miss a lead on a limited search.”
She saw Todd Simmons directing the traffic of his own personnel a few yards away. He cast a sidelong look at her from time to time but Sydney focused on the screen Agent Conrad worked with precision. Window after window flicked and rolled over to other windows of information. The cold shoulder didn’t go unnoticed by Briggs.
“What’s up with stick-up-his-ass over there?” He leaned in next to Sydney and glanced at the screen too.
“Nothing. He just questioned my ability and dedication. He put the Rafael Rontego loss squarely on my shoulders. Said he didn’t have room for that here. He’s right. He doesn’t.” Sydney let her eyeballs roam over the scrolling digits and names in an adjoining column.
Briggs stood straight up like someone jabbed a stick along his spine. “That’s bullshit Syd. After what you did, after what you sacrificed just to enable us to move on that hotel room?” His eyes flashed dangerously at Todd who pretended not to notice.
Sydney gave Briggs a wry smile but touched his bicep gently. “Simmer down. We have a job to do.” Briggs’ anger was a nice gesture but she made one scene already, another wasn’t apt to do any good.
Agent Conrad leaned back in his chair and flicked both of his wrists at the computer screen. “We have no known contacts. But we do have six phone calls that were made in the last four days that are listed as ‘unknown’. That would be a dead-end without a warrant in most cases.”
“In most cases?” Sydney raised a brow.
“In most cases,” Conrad nodded his head. “But not in this case, thanks to the Patriot Act. We have access to the telephone company’s database as well, and every call that comes up as ‘unknown’ has to be routed through the company’s switchboard, and then rerouted under an anonymous label to the recipient.” He hammered on the keyboard a few more times. “So, what we end up with is one number that called six times,” he smiled and hit a few more keys, this time with one finger as if revealing a secret. “And when we reference that one number with the database we have a name that registers as a hit.”
“And that name is?” Sydney leaned in to get past the glare.
“One Richard ‘Dick’ LoGalbo.” Conrad smiled again. Sydney thought he might take a bow, but he remained seated.
“I feel like I know that name.” Briggs had his large fingers massaging his temples and his eyes closed as he tried to remember.
“Well yeah Briggs, he was a connected guy here for decades. Not real high level, but the word was that he retired. He has to be over seventy.” Sydney flipped her cell and hit the quick dial.
“No, I don’t think that’s it. It’s more recent.” Briggs walked a bit away and stared across the parking lot.
Sydney’s phone clicked after one ring. “Agent Timms,” the voice came through.
“Timms, are you with Legs? I mean Dr. Tolbert?” Sydney silently admonished herself for the slip.
“Yeah she’s right here, what do you need?” He seemed distracted as if he were in the middle of something.
“I need all hands on deck, we’re gonna move on a lead.” She could see him by the front doors of the mall stooped over bits of debris with Dr. Tolbert walking nearby.
“You got it, boss.” He waved at the doctor and the two of them made their way towards the vans.
Briggs’ face was scrunched up as he tried to recall whatever it was that eluded him at the moment. Sydney followed his eyes as they scanned the parking lot while he worked through his brain cramp, and they spied Dr. Tolbert gliding across the parking lot on legs that seemed to travel up to her ribcage. Agent Timms scrambled after her on smaller legs and a portly torso. He wasn’t fat, but the thick squat shoulders, coupled with his vest, made Sydney think he resembled SpongeBob SquarePants.
Briggs cast a pair of eyes on Sydney, half apologetic, half irritated. “You know she isn’t going to let me live this down.”
She smiled. Briggs hated being wrong. “Would you let her live it down?”
“Probably not,” he shrugged.
The odd couple walked up then and Sydney looked past them to Agent Moreland who stood by the vans on his cell. She waved him over, and then turned to Agent Conrad who stood over a computer geek’s shoulder, dictating a better way to do her job. “Agent Conrad, over here.”
When the team had assembled, including Moreland who hastily pocketed his cell, she broke down the situation. “It looks like we might have overlapping priorities. Whoever instigated these attacks, we now know most likely obtained our person of interest from this morning on the Ciancetta investigation. We have video footage of the same man bearing a spider tattoo at both scenes.”
Agent Moreland spoke up. “But why, that doesn’t make a lot of sense? Why wouldn’t that person stay low? It doesn’t seem like a mafia maneuver to blast shopping malls. That’s beyond even their scope of usual activity.” He crossed his arms and looked at her, his eyes twinkling with something Sydney couldn’t place.
She patted her hands in the air to keep more questions from coming. “We don’t know. If we did than this would be wrapped up and we w
ould all be at home catching some shuteye.” She took in a deep breath before continuing. “What we do know is that the young girl taken hostage or captive in the video was carrying a pistol. I don’t know how well you read your briefings, but she was also carrying a pawn. If you had read it then you would already know that…”
“… A pawn was left at Muro Lucano’s murder scene during the Ciancetta Civil War.” Agent Timms had a grin across his face that reeked of eating shit.
Sydney arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Very good, Agent Timms.”
Doctor Tolbert smacked Timms in the arm. “I told him my theory earlier.”
The men let out small laughs that seemed to relieve a bit of the heavy tension that lingered in the air like a wet mist. She decided to let the joke slide even though she was tempted to reprimand Agent Timms right there on the spot.
Instead she closed her eyes until the circle went silent and then continued. “Also, thanks to Agent Briggs and Agent Conrad, we tracked down an address where several of the calls to the girl’s phone originated. They were made from the home of retired Ciancetta associate Richard ‘Dick’ LoGalbo.” Sydney watched the smile evaporate from Agent Timms’ face. “Agent Timms has some experience with Dick LoGalbo, Timms fill us in.”
Timms cleared his throat and stepped forward. He ran his fingers through his hair, swallowed, and began. “This guy is as slippery as they come. We had an agent several years back that infiltrated Tricky Dick’s crew. We thought he was infiltrated at any rate, but then he disappeared and his body turned up three years later in Cincinnati. He was a good friend of mine.” He sucked his lips under his teeth. “What you’re looking at is a guy who knows how the game is played. At times he was one step ahead of us, and at others he seemed like he was reading our playbook before we even saw it. He’s a master of disguise, disinformation, identity theft, and the fish we never got on the hook. We thought he was retired; he’s nearly eighty years old. It’s been two years since I heard his name.” He turned to Sydney, “If he is back in the game, we need to be careful, but man would I like to bring that asshole in.”
She nodded her head. “Well, it seems like he is, but I mean to find out. We’re going to his house and we’re going to ask him a few questions.”
Agent Moreland looked at his cell and read something off of the screen then looked up at Sydney. “Seems we found the vans used in the getaway. Both of them were burned out near a half a dozen parking garages. My guess is one of them had a couple stored vehicles. We’re trying to get video but it doesn’t look good. Someone cracked several local garages’ surveillance systems and blacked them out.”
“Fuck. That was smart of them.” Briggs hated when they were one step behind. The thing about being a step behind though, was that the second the perpetrator stumbled, the FBI would be right there to catch them.
“Alright then, we go with what we’ve got. So, Agent Moreland, secure our equipment, get the vans ready and let’s roll.” Her men went to grab their gear and scattered in all directions, leaving her alone with Briggs as they made their way towards the vehicles. He caught her eye and nodded his approval. She didn’t know why, but when he did that it sent a jolt through her. She didn’t need his approval. She knew that. But she couldn’t help it if she liked it.
They neared the van and Briggs walked around to the passenger side when Todd Simmons came from the other side of the van, bumping into Briggs with his shoulder as he passed. He pulled his cell phone from his ear as he did so and swung around between Sydney and the door. She clenched a fist as he straddled the path between her and the escape route.
He eyed her up in a way that made Sydney feel like she was in high school again. His eyes walked her length but hers never left the prick’s cockeyed grin. “Sorry about earlier Sydney. I forget sometimes how emotional you can get.”
She opened her mouth and took a step forward. A vision of planting her fist through the back of Todd’s teeth dangled in front of her like a carrot promising an early retirement. He glanced down at her clenched fist and defensively brought his hands up in front of him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Listen, who wouldn’t be emotional right now? It’s not a knock on you. Anyway, I heard you have something for me.”
Sydney saw Briggs come around, his hard dark eyes boring into the back of Todd Simmon’s head like twin pistols. He leaned on the hood of the van and his eyes shot to Sydney’s.
“Well, I have a lead. I intend to chase it down.” She pushed past Todd and climbed into the driver’s seat. Her team was already piling into the next van. “It could be nothing.”
He scanned the half dozen agents piling into the two vans. “It doesn’t look like nothing, Sydney.”
Briggs climbed into the passenger seat and hung his arm out of the open window while Agent Conrad climbed in the back with the computer equipment. Sydney pushed the ignition as she slammed the door shut. “It could be something or it could be nothing. That’s what we intend on finding out, Todd.”
“Fine. I’ll let you play this game for now.” He leaned forward into the window. “But if it is something, you better let me know right away.”
She almost rolled her eyes. “I’ve got your number, Todd.”
“Yeah, so does the President of the United States. Air Force One, Sydney.” He stepped back and patted the car door before swinging around and pulling his cell phone back up to his ear.
Sydney gripped the steering wheel and pressed the gas pedal down harder than she intended. The tires kicked out behind her and the vehicle shot forward, the second van quickly falling in line, piloted by Agent Timms.
She looked at Briggs who offer a half-smile and a shrug. “Let’s go ask this cock sucker about these dead Americans.”
Chapter 14
When the door slammed behind him, Ivan flinched but he didn’t spin around. Somehow he knew it would be a mistake to make any sudden moves. The dilated and magnified eyes of the Father in front of him looking in twitches over Ivan’s shoulders served as verification.
“Turn around. Nice and easy.” The voice was thick with Baltic influence but the English was perfect. Ivan turned around slowly and kept his hands in plain view. He came face to face with the barrel of a silver snub nose revolver and another grey beard. This one wasn’t feeble and blind like the first though. He was an ox of a man at over six feet tall and the robes he wore looked almost too small for his wide shoulders. His dark eyes shone outward from behind a prison of thick eyebrows and his bulbous nose was pock marked from a rough ‘bout of chicken pox or acne. “You mentioned Pavel.”
Ivan glanced down at the silver revolver. It only held six bullets but at this range there was no way five of the six didn’t put holes through Ivan’s chest. “I did. Are you Dmitri?”
The two greybeards exchanged a look before the large one nodded his head. Ivan wanted to reach into his waistband and pull his own gun out. It felt heavy on his hip but it was useless.
Ivan knew he had to start talking but he wasn’t sure what to say. In truth he had very little information. He was hoping to get the drop on Dmitri and extract the information that way, but Dmitri proved craftier than he had supposed for a priest. “Pavel said you were holding something for him.”
Less is more.
Dmitri circled around Ivan, keeping the gun leveled at his chest. He came around and stood next to the other priest. Ivan turned with him, keeping an eye on the muzzle of the snub nose. The priest kept an eye on the door the same as Ivan.
“Now why would Pavel tell a guy like you something like that?” Dmitri tilted his head a bit, his beady eyes narrowing as he asked.
“Because, like me, he knows where his bread is buttered.” Ivan lowered his hands, making sure the priest approved as he did so. “This is the Ciancetta world and we all just live in it.”
The priest with the thick glasses looked down and shook his head from side to side. “This is the Lord’s world and we just live in it. Without God man is mere flesh and by flesh can be undone. But with God the etern
al soul cannot be undone except by His command.”
“Spare me your lectures, old man.” Ivan saw Dmitri’s grip tighten on the pistol. “I made my peace with God’s judgment long ago and until my time on this earth passes, he’ll have to abide by my rulings in this world.
Dmitri snorted. “Or mine. So tell me, where is Pavel?”
Where the fuck is Eddie?
“Resting.” He certainly wasn’t about to tell the priest that his brother’s body was now part of a metal cube and that his eternal soul was even now most likely receiving an unkind judgment. “Pavel told us about the Black Widow and said you had his money.”
In a perfect world Ivan’s little bit of information would have been enough to buy the trust of Dmitri. Instead the priest just laughed. “You lie. Pavel would never say that.”
Ivan knew he had to go all in on the lie, even though Dmitri was calling him out. “What makes you so sure?” He said it while trying to keep his eyes locked on Dmitri, despite a quick movement that he caught out of his peripheral vision.
“Because Pavel knows the truth and that, my friend, is not the truth.” He lifted the barrel of his snub nose in line with Ivan’s head. “So that makes you a thief trying to steal my brother’s money.” He gripped the gun even tighter and his finger played over the trigger. The priest set his jaw and Ivan stared him dead in his black eyes and refused to look away. Part of him willed the man to yank back on the trigger.
But it never came.
A man cleared his throat from behind the two priests and the one in the glasses turned around and gasped.
Dmitri held his pose, still looking into Ivan’s eyes, neither of them wanting to back down. His fellow priest urgently tapped him on the shoulder though, and after a moment of hesitation, Dmitri rested the hammer of the pistol with a click and placed the gun on the ground without turning. He kicked it over to Ivan who slowly crouched down and scooped it up.
“Good to see you.” He looked past Dmitri to where Eddie held the Ak-47 in the crook of his shoulder.
Buffalo Soldiers (An Upstate New York Mafia Tale Book 2) Page 16