by Peter Ralph
“Yeah, the Prosser meat contact, the largest single meat cartage contract in the country for hanging and packaged meat is ours for the taking,” Borchard said. “I’ve got a deal with the Consolidated Meat Workers Union where we tender at less than cost. Two months later the union takes their drivers and meatpackers out on strike for higher wages and better conditions. After a brief battle, we cave in and in return the union helps us negotiate new and profitable cartage rates. It’s a sweet deal.”
“Sounds good,” Ridgeway said, getting up from his chair. “You don’t need our approval for a deal like that. Just get it done.”
“Hold on,” Becker said, “who’s got the existing contract?”
“Countywide Frozen Meats.” Borchard grinned.
“We’ll pass,” Becker said, “we’ve got enough trouble without pouring oil on flames. Countrywide is one of Max Lustig’s companies, and we don’t want to go head to head with him.”
“Sorry, Dermott,” Ridgeway said, “I should have asked the same question. Forget it, Brock.”
“Fuck! What is it with this guy? He’s not Meyer Lansky or Bugsy Siegel.” Borchard sneered.
Book 3
Chapter 32
Six months had elapsed since Todd Hansen’s arraignment, but his trial was mercifully quick. Found guilty of six counts of insider trading, Todd hung his head and waited for Judge Dessau to pronounce her sentence.
“It is critical that the financial markets are free of the type of secret manipulation in which you engaged. You have been totally uncooperative, Mr. Hansen. You were prepared to commit crimes that you thought would go undetected. Worse, when they were, you were willing to let a fellow employee spend four nights in jail, and no doubt would have been happy had she been charged and convicted. You have failed to reveal who you leaked the sensitive information to. You have been evasive, and, quite frankly, much of your evidence was not believable. Had you confessed to your crimes or incriminated those who were involved with you, I may have been more lenient. As it is, you leave me no room for leniency. When a person in a position of trust breaches that trust, violates the law and commits financial crimes, a significant prison term is warranted. Please rise, Mr. Hansen,” Judge Dessau ordered.
Todd got to his feet in a daze. He hadn’t expected such a severe lambasting. He glanced around the court and saw Vanessa sitting next to Doug Lechte. She had been sympathetic and smiled encouragingly. She knew that he had not come forward because he feared for his parent’s lives and she displayed no malice toward him. His mother and father were a few rows further back. His mother had been crying, but his father was stoic, jaw thrust out and eyes fixed on the judge. There had been no sympathy from him and nor would there be.
“You come from a highly respected family and have been given every opportunity in life,” Judge Dessau said. “Your employer said you showed great promise. You are intelligent and talented. It is a shame that you chose to use that talent in the pursuit of crime that was no doubt greed based. I hope that when you get out of prison you will realize the promise shown earlier in your career. However, because of your lack of cooperation and for the other reasons stated I sentence you to nine years in Castlebrough Penitentiary being eighteen months on each of the six charges.”
Todd’s mother gasped loudly, and his sister started to sob. Lechte caught Todd’s eye and winked.
After the judge had left the courtroom, two court officers led Todd away. He displayed no emotion, but his innards were churning.
Lechte was angry and herded Grinich and Lord into a small room next to the courtroom. “You said you could protect him,” he said. “Christ, she’s put him in Castlebrough. How are you going to protect him in there?”
“We’ve got people who’ll look after him,” Grinich replied.
“Bullshit! Castlebrough’s the toughest and worst prison in the state. White collar criminals never get sent there. What was the judge thinking? You can’t protect him.”
“We’re as upset as you,” Lord said. “We just never thought Castlebrough. We could’ve looked after him just about anywhere else, but Castlebrough…”
“Chas,” Lechte said staring at the FBI man, “you’re going to want him to help you in a few months’ time. He’s going to be no good to you dead or so fucked up in the head that he can’t string two words together. What are you going to do?”
Grinich looked at Lord who was shaking his head. “I’ve got guards that can keep an eye on him, but I can’t guarantee his safety.”
“But that was part of the deal,” Lechte shouted. “He would’ve never gone along with you without that guarantee.”
“Doug, with respect, he was going to prison, deal or no deal,” Lord said. “If he pulls this off, he’ll do four months of a nine-year sentence, so don’t make out that the benefit’s all ours.”
“Yeah, and he’ll be risking his life. You want the big boys? He can give them to you, but only if he’s capable of walking and thinking. You have to do something. Get him into a less violent prison.”
“I don’t know whether we can,” Grinich said, “and even if we could, it’ll take time.”
“Fuck!” Lechte yelled. “We don’t have time. He could be dead or out of his mind in a week.” Then he paused. “The FBI and SEC can’t look after him, but I might have a way.”
“What are you up to?” Lord asked.
“You’re an accountant,” Grinich said. “What can you do? Stay with what you know. Don’t get into something over your head.”
“I know someone, and unlike you he has real power,” Lechte said pushing the door open. “I have to go.”
Twenty minutes later Lechte was in his office calling Max Lustig. The transport tycoon listened patiently as Lechte related the court’s decision and its ramifications.
“He’s a good kid, Doug. I like him. He did a very thorough job with that business we bought in New Jersey. I understand your fears about what might happen to him in Castlebrough. It’s full of murderers, rapists, degenerates and sickos. What would you like me to do?”
“Can you get someone to look after him? He’s young and innocent. There are going to be plenty of nutcases in there who’ll want a piece of him. I’m worried that by the time he gets out, that’s if he’s still alive, he’ll be emotionally wrecked. Can you help him?”
There was a long pause.
“Max, Max, are you there?”
“Yeah, I can help him. I was just wondering who to use. If you want his safety guaranteed, we’ll have to use the services of Frank Arturo.”
“The mob boss?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know him, Max?”
Lustig laughed. “That’s something you don’t need to know. Consider the kid safe, though. He’ll be the second most powerful inmate in Castlebrough after Arturo. Word travels quickly, and it won’t take long for the other cons to find out.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“It’s a favor,” Lustig replied. “You’ll owe me one.”
“I’d rather pay.”
“Doug, you insult me. You think I’m going to ask you to do something illegal in the future. I’d never do it. I have too much respect for you, and I’ve got more than enough of those favors stored up.”
“Sorry. Do you know who was pulling Todd’s strings?”
“No, but if you tell me everything the FBI and SEC have, I’ll soon find out.”
“I can’t, Max. I swore I wouldn’t breathe a word. They’ll make it worse for Todd if I do.”
“I understand. Give me a call if there’s anything else I can do.”
At 5 P.M. Todd was shackled with twenty other prisoners for the bus trip to Castlebrough. He’d known this day would eventually come, but nothing could have prepared him for the misery he was now experiencing. Talking was forbidden, and half a dozen guards paced up and down the bus’s aisle smacking truncheons into their hands. Anyone talking was struck with force and Todd was petrified. The old guy next to him whispered, “First
time, kid?”
Todd was too scared to reply.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. How long are you in for?”
Todd felt the blow striking the old guy’s head and recoiled. “No talking,” the guard shouted.
Two hours later, out of the darkness, a massive, sinister structure appeared lit up like the Atlantic City boardwalk on a hot summer night. Razor wire ran across the top of the towering bluestone walls of the ninety-year-old Castlebrough Penitentiary. The bus stopped at heavy steel doors which slowly opened to a vacant enclosure. There was a second wall thirty yards further on with an electrified grid on top it. The bus crept toward a steel roller door that didn’t start to open until the doors behind it closed. The prisoners, still manacled, were led from the bus out into a small enclosed yard, overlooked by cells of the three level prison. Prisoners in the cells yelled and screamed insults at the new inmates.
The deputy warden told them how they would be processed and read the prison rules. The main one being that prisoners were to address guards as sir and only speak when spoken to. One of the prisoners raised his hand, “Sir.”
The crack of truncheon on skull bone was like a bullet shot, and the prisoner slumped to the concrete, blood trickling from his forehead.
Ten minutes later, Todd was in a shower room with the other prisoners while the guards sprayed high-pressure hoses on them. Then they were doused with a delousing mix from large plastic containers. Rough towels were hanging on the hooks behind the guards, and prisoners were given a brief time to dry themselves.
The prisoners were then marched naked to the adjoining room where neatly packaged black and white striped coveralls, underwear, and black sneakers were handed to them. “You’ll get dressed in your cells,” one of the guards shouted. “Do not, I repeat, do not put your coveralls on now. Move it out.”
Todd was a little slow to move, and a small, cruel looking guard hit him across the bare buttocks with his truncheon. The sting was excruciating, and Todd gulped and fought back tears. He wasn’t sure he could even walk, and the guard raised his truncheon again but before he could swing it another guard grabbed his arm and whispered something. The smaller guard’s face visibly changed, and he said to Todd, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. I’ll give you a few minutes to recover.”
A few of the other prisoners glanced at Todd, puzzled looks on their faces.
The guards led the new inmates past overcrowded cells on the first level. Todd could barely think, but he couldn’t block the yells out. “Your ass is mine, white boy,” a prisoner shouted and Todd looked up to see a huge, toothless African American grinning at him. He was in a tiny cell with five other inmates.
By the time they climbed the stairs to the second level, there were only eight new inmates left in the group. Todd tried to block out the lewd comments, but he was sick with fear. He’d read enough books and seen enough movies to know that prison sickos preyed on young men. The cells on the second level were also overcrowded, and Todd knew what was going to happen once he was locked up. He resolved to fight to his last breath reckoning that death was better than the alternative.
Chapter 33
Todd was the only inmate who hadn’t been shoved in a cell when the two remaining guards pushed him toward the stairs to the third level. He was confused. Why was he the only new inmate being placed in a cell on the third level? The cells were no larger than those on the other two levels but slightly less crowded. The guards led Todd along a walkway until they got to two large cells. The first one looked like it had been two cells converted into one and the adjoining cell comprised three cells with the walls removed. There was one man in the larger cell sitting in a chair watching television. Todd was more confused than ever and wondered whether he was hallucinating. The other cell also only had one prisoner. He was lying on a bunk, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, reading a newspaper. The guards opened the door and pushed Todd in.
Todd stood in the cell trying to use the bundle of coveralls to cover himself. He didn’t know what was going on but whatever it was he didn’t like it. The man on the bunk looked over the top of his newspaper and said, “I’m Tony Lombardi, Todd. Welcome to Castlebrough. You’ve got nothing to worry about. That’s your bunk over there. Why don’t you get dressed? You look like you’re freezing.”
“How do you know my name?”
“You’d be surprised what I know. When you’ve settled in, we’ll have a little talk.”
There were three blankets on the bunk and while Todd didn’t know it, that was two more than most inmates got. He hastily pulled the coveralls and sneakers on while Lombardi remained immersed in his newspaper. Todd sat on the end of the bunk and looked around the cell. It had a sink, a stainless steel toilet, and two open metal cabinets positioned next to the bunks. Lombardi’s contained newspapers, books and a radio. The cell was cold, and Todd felt wretched. Why had he bet so heavily? Why had he wasted his life trying to make a quick buck? Why had he shamed his family? He hadn’t eaten since midday, but food was the last thing on his mind. He felt nauseous, and a level of depression that he’d never experienced before threatened to engulf him.
Lombardi was sitting on his bunk looking at Todd, his sleeves rolled up. There was a cobra tattooed on each of his arms. He was about six foot, wiry with shoulder length black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. “It’s not that bad, kid,” he said. “You could be in a cell of six, but someone pulled some mighty big strings to get you up here. You should think yourself lucky.”
“I-I don’t know any-anyone.”
“Well someone knows you and is making sure you’re being looked after,” Lombardi said. “Have you heard of Frank Arturo?”
“Ye-yeah, he’s the mob boss. What’s he got to do with it?”
“Mr. Arturo runs the prison. Nothing happens without his say-so. Yeah, there are gangs in here. The Mexicans, the African-Americans, the Hispanics and of course us but there’s only one boss. Mr. Arturo’s in the adjoining cell.”
“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this. I don’t know him.”
Lombardi grinned. “I didn’t think you did, but you have a friend who knows him. Mr. Arturo has made it known that you’re under his protection. I’m one of his captains. I’ve been commissioned to look after you.”
The only person Todd could think it might be was Elliot. Maybe he was being looked after because he hadn’t given Elliot up at his trial.
“That doesn’t mean that some dumb fuck isn’t going to try and hurt or maybe kill you. I’m guessing that someone will attack you in the mess hall or try to fuck you in the showers or maybe get to you in the yard,” Lombardi said. “I was thirty when I got locked up. Luckily for you, I’ve got six months of a ten-year stretch to go. I’ve seen more than a dozen inmates killed.”
Todd was stark white. “So even though Mr. Arturo’s looking after me, I’m still not safe.”
“You’re safer than Fort Knox.” Lombardi laughed. “The faster some stupid prick tries to get to you the better. Then we’ll send a message to the other four thousand fuckers in here. It’ll guarantee your safety and reinforce Mr. Arturo’s authority, not that it needs reinforcing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to. Lights are out in fifteen minutes at ten o’clock. Breakfast’s at 6:30 and I’ll introduce you to some more friends who you can trust. Don’t worry, you’re in here eighteen hours a day and for the other six hours there’ll always be someone nearby. Try and get a good night’s sleep. Oh, and one last thing. Mr. Arturo might invite you to play chess or cards with him. Unless he says otherwise, you address him as Mr. Arturo and make damn sure you don’t win.”
Todd didn’t sleep. How could he? There was crying and whimpering all through the night accompanied by yelling from inmates angry that they couldn’t sleep. Then there was the sound of metal scraping across steel bars. Guards added to the cacophony when they walked the floors shouting for silence. For a few minutes a
fter there was quiet, but it didn’t last. Todd looked at Lombardi, and he was sleeping like a baby.
Phillip Cromwell, knew what day the court would bring down judgment on Todd, and had convened a partners’ meeting five weeks earlier. There was only one item on the agenda. The removal of Douglas Lechte as a partner of the firm. Cromwell rose and put a measured argument to the partners why Lechte should go. He did not claim that Lechte had been dishonest, but that he had been negligent, and as a result of such negligence, the firm had been subject to unwanted and unsavory attention from the media. Lechte had failed to adequately supervise his direct report, Todd Hansen, who had brought the firm into disrepute by his criminal actions. Cromwell thumped the desk, saying that if Lechte had any honor, he would’ve fallen on his sword and resigned, and that it was reprehensible that he had not. He finished by asking the partners to use their powers under the deed of partnership to remove Lechte. He reminded them that to carry the motion, a two-thirds majority of those present and voting was required.
Doug Lechte got slowly to his feet. “My fellow partners,” he said. “There is some truth in what Phillip says. However, can any of you tell me what your direct reports are doing right now? Can you be positive that their work is flawless and will not lead to litigation? Are each and every one of you prepared to accept responsibility for all of the actions of those responsible to you? I ask you−”
“Of course we have to take responsibility for those who report to us,” Cromwell interrupted. “The prestige this firm enjoys is because we have managed to remain out of the eye of the media. Our clients like the privacy that we afford them. We simply cannot and should not tolerate anyone or anything that results in adverse publicity for the firm. If you had any honor, Doug, you’d resign.”