Aboard P995, the flight plan stated, were Pilot-in-Command Joseph Angelo Strasso, Laura Dima Strasso who had been listed as copilot, and four unnamed passengers. All six were presumed dead. A perfunctory search by the Coast Guard yielded no results, but a fishing vessel out of Charleston, SC reported finding a piece of what appeared to be part of an aircraft, which later was confirmed as a section of the right-side elevator of a Lear 35 registered under number November-Charlie-Zebra-niner-niner-five.
Ernie Goldman was notified of the disaster by an official of the NTSB shortly before 5:00 p.m., as he was the person registered as agent for the Tri-State Industrial Laundry Service Corporation, owners of the Lear.
Ernie hung up and sat quietly at his desk for a few minutes. The news was disastrous. He knew that Marco and Patricia were not aboard the Lear and that they were safely ensconced in the villa in Cayman, but the brutal aggressiveness of the attack indicated an all-out war on The Board. Ernie decided to first call Ian Carlo and then Francisco Lujan. Ian Carlo was silent for a few seconds, and he simply told Ernie that he would apprise Marco of the event and secure a jet from NetJets and have it available for him. The call to Francisco Lujan was more difficult. Francisco was aware of the danger his daughter was in and this new attempt increased that awareness hundredfold, a mind taxing situation that a man in Francisco’s position did not need.
They agreed that the meeting of The Board was to take place as soon as possible taking into consideration that Marco had work to do in Cayman that was of paramount importance.
Major Allen responded professionally and proceeded to outline several contingency plans for the safest possible travel of the members of The Board to Tortola and suggested that the Toscana, as the Benetti Yacht was called, be deployed off Tortola at a resort in Virgin Gorda, an island a few miles from Tortola that had world-class facilities with able berthing for the yacht. Under orders from Marco, the ship was fully chandelled and manned, ready to go to whichever destination Marco assigned, but under the circumstances the Toscana would sail for Virgin Gorda under Ernie’s authority unless Marco had different plans.
Ian Carlo called Marco and told him about the Lear and the loss of Joe and his wife. At this moment they didn’t know who the other passengers were and as it was not an international flight, it didn’t have a passenger manifest. Fortunately they had no children to orphan, though someone had to tell his parents, who lived in Sicilia.
Marco took the news very hard. Joe was his close friend; he had taught Marco how to fly and had gone with him everywhere. Marco had spent several Thanksgivings at the Strasso home and loved both of them dearly. And, while the sense of loss was great, the fury he felt overshadowed any other feeling. He kept to himself for over an hour while he channeled that fury into focus and prepared mentally for what was to be a war.
The others took the news with equal degrees of loss, sorrow and outrage. Joe was part of a close team that had shared the prosperity of the Carducci and had committed themselves totally to the family. Patricia knew Joe and had met his wife a few months back when she came down to Florida with him in the Lear while the G550 was in maintenance. He had flown Sal and Patricia down to Sarasota and then had taken them to Cartagena for a weekend to celebrate their anniversary. Pete and Luigi had also come on that trip and enjoyed the stay as a group while Major Allen’s Colombian team took care of security. Laura had proved to be a fun-loving girl with an uncanny sense of rhythm who danced to cumbias and porros like a local. Patricia felt that she had lost a dear friend even though she had not seen her since.
Francisco Lujan was stoic as ever. He understood what was happening, and that it was happening faster than he anticipated. He understood that Patricia’s life was in danger and that all he could do was trust in the Carducci security, which was also Patricia’s armor at this time. He had to find out who the engine behind these acts really was. He could narrow it down to two groups: The US Senate contingent or the Middle Easterners, as he did not see a Chinese hand in this. There was always the chance that someone else was the author of the attempts but he doubted it. He got to work. First he gave instructions to the Bogotá operation to sweep for chatter in the known circles of the senators and the Arabs, but most of all the senators as he thought the Arabs had far too much on their plate right now to be expending resources attacking The Board.
He was not wrong. Senator Mason received the report of the Lear’s demise and the NTBS preliminary report with satisfaction but not joy. He was a fervent Catholic and despised the necessary violence. It indicated without confirmation that aside from the crew, Marco Carducci, Patricia Lujan, and a couple of bodyguards were the victims. He sent off short advisories to colleagues here in DC and to Rome, London, and Luxembourg. The sanction appeared to have been successful. Cardinal Jean Dupree from the Vatican Bank said a prayer for those whose deaths had been necessary to the greater good as he saw it. In his London office Lord Humphrey Houghton received the news early next morning with little emotion though he missed the enthusiasm that Delany used when communicating these things. He ordered the second part of the payment due sent to the hit man who had accepted the mission as ordered by Cardinal Dupree.
Sitting in his office within a trailer just outside of JFK, Tony Kisses saw the bank confirmation of the five hundred thousand dollars that had arrived from Luxembourg. He not only had his vengeance on that Carducci asshole, he had half a million to celebrate with. A buddy in the Liguria family out of Vegas had asked him if he knew of anyone willing to do the hit knowing perfectly well that there was no love lost between Tony Kisses and the Carducci. Tony had taken the job without thinking when the figure mentioned was more than he was worth. One hundred thousand down and five hundred thousand when the job was done. Rigging the Lear was no big deal; he had an airplane mechanic who worked for him at JFK go to Teterboro where the Lear was and rig it to explode when the interior cabin pressure reached the equivalent of 8,000 feet, which was about 38,000 to 40,000 feet in real altitude. When Joe had gone home for the night, the mechanic had nonchalantly gone to the Lear and planted the four kilos of C4 deep inside the landing gear well. Nobody looked twice at a mechanic doing his job where others like him were doing the same.
On Wednesday morning Marco went to the bank with Patricia, having sent Pete and Luigi ahead to check out the area and keep him posted. All was well; they entered the bank and headed directly towards the assistant manager. He presented himself as Marco Lorenzo Massimo showing his Italian passport and presenting the key to the safety deposit box. The assistant manager welcomed them to the bank and asked them to follow him.
The vault was huge. It was located underground and reached by an ample elevator that went down a few seconds before it opened to the high ceilinged room. The door to the vault was an ASMEC of gargantuan proportions that opened to a code, a handprint and a retina scan. Marco and Patricia were escorted to a room with a sturdy table, two chairs, and little else. Seconds later an electric cart, unmanned, guided only by its robot brain brought a metal box the size of a milk crate next to the table. The manager inserted one very high-tech looking key and bowed out of the room, telling them that they could press the button on the box when they were ready to leave. They had all the time they wanted until 5:00 p.m., when the bank closed and the automatic locks would go into place until the next day. Marco inserted his key and the box emitted a green light and the top slid back more than halfway. Inside were several manila envelopes, and a large stack of US dollars and another of euros, several hundred thousand judging by the denominations of Є500 and $100.
There were also two UK passports for Marco and Patricia, both under the last name MacKenzie. The instructions indicated that the security box in Tortola was under these names. In an envelope there were valid drivers’ licenses, club memberships to a posh London club, and several credit cards all in the same names. They put everything in two bags that the bank provided and closed the box, touching the button on the robot’s console, and it shut the top and rolled out as i
t had come. Seconds later a clerk came and asked if the bank could do anything else for Mr. Massimo. Next they were escorted to the bank lobby where Marco called for the car. It came followed by two others and the small caravan set off for the villa.
With the news of the Lear and its crew also came a sense of isolation and, you might say, island fever. Marco was accustomed to leave at very short notice from practically any location and the lack of that option weighed on him, particularly because of the imminent threat upon their lives. He was already making contingency plans on his way to the villa when Ian Carlo called to tell him that a NetJets G3 was on its way to await orders from Marco. The call came from one of twenty burner phones that Marco and Ian Carlo each had acquired for communications during the next week or so. Ian Carlo also told him that two additional bodyguards from Allen Security were on the way to Grand Cayman from Miami and would contact Marco upon arrival. They were a man and a woman who traveled as spouses so that they did not attract attention. Both needed to be armed locally but the G3 carried some additional equipment.
“We went to the bank,” Marco told Ian Carlo. “There was some cash and some envelopes that I haven’t opened yet but that I will look at as soon as we get to the villa.”
Marco asked if there was any further information on what happened to Joe.
“No, it’s too early to know anything in concrete. All we know is that the plane blew up and there is little left to tell a tale. But I have some ideas and I’ll tell you what comes from that when we talk next time. By the way, did the Lear go anywhere after you landed?”
“To Teterboro. I asked Joe to have a mechanic go through the plane for a safety check and then to wait for orders. As far as I know he did that, left the Lear locked and secured at the FBO at Teterboro, and went home. Why he took his wife to PR and who the passengers were and why they were aboard, I don’t know.”
This said, they disconnected as the SUV reached the entrance to the villa. Pete and one of Patricia’s men got out of the first car and did a rapid check of the perimeter even though all appeared normal and the smiling butler, actually named James, was at the door to greet them. Marco and Patricia headed for the dining room and placed the bags on the table and proceeded to empty them of their contents. The cash was stacked on the side and the envelopes, three in total, were opened.
The first contained other envelopes with addresses and keys to safe houses in several major cities: London, Luxembourg, Rome, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Bogotá, Los Angeles, Shanghai and Hong Kong. Each was maintained and serviced by an international real estate management company that belonged to one of the members of The Board and were considered highly secure, consistently swept for bugs, and located strategically for all possible advantages. The second envelope contained the biographies of men that The Board considered dangerous opponents, their present positions and, where possible, relations of one with others. Such was the case with Senator Joseph Delany, Senator Archibald Mason III, Lord Humphrey Houghton, and Cardinal Jean Dupree. About twenty more biographies were included and a list of names and general locations of several dozen more, but without much detail. One such was referred to only as M&M and had a Post-It note that said “Neutral?” The third envelope contained only a sheet of paper with a link that, when Marco typed it into the address line of his computer, sent him to a database of thousands of individuals, their location’s, how to reach them and the reason they were reliable in certain unique ways and why they could be compelled to cooperate with The Board. From all over the world and in different walks of life they all held special abilities, capabilities, and/or positions that could render them very valuable in the right circumstances, a database of human assets, a private Angie’s List if you like.
Marco called in the people on his team, starting with Luigi and gave each of them $5,000 dollars and Є5,000 Euro and told them this was money that they were to use instead of their company issued or personal credit cards. No paper trace was to be left behind. All major bills would be paid directly by an asset management company in Barbados. He emphasized the prohibition of using the credit cards unless specifically told to do this. Patricia’s men received the same cash and she underlined the order in very stern Spanish that made even Marco want to throw away his cards even though he hardly understood what she said. Now plans had to be made for the trip to Tortola, hopefully without leaving a footprint.
In New York, Ian Carlo was applying his greatest personal asset to the problem: his capacity to focus and cut through the bullshit. Somebody, he thought, put the bomb on the Lear sometime between the time Joe went home the night after his mechanic had done a thorough check of the airplane and the time Joe got back to Teterboro, which was nine the next morning. During that time somebody saw something, even if they didn’t know it. He was going to find out who and what. Ian Carlo called two cousins on his mother’s side, one of whom worked as a homicide detective with NYPD, and his kid brother, who was an enforcer for one of Ian Carlo’s operations. He gave them a clear picture of the situation and what he expected from them. Within an hour both were on leave from their jobs and headed for Teterboro and the FBO that serviced the Lear. After hours of very professional and surprisingly courteous interrogation, they learned about a mechanic who worked mostly at night and who was changing the main fan on the engine of an Embraer right next to the Lear. They went over to the man’s home and caught him leaving for the shops. Yes, he remembered the mechanic who had spent about an hour with the Lear that night and, no he didn’t know the man personally, but yes he did remember that he was wearing the overalls of a maintenance company at JFK and yes he could give a description of the man including his nametag on the overall, “Andy.”
The cousins called Ian Carlo with the information. He decided to take care of this personally and asked the two brothers to locate the man and bring him to a warehouse in Brooklyn.
Andy Pasco was returning from lunch when a NYPD detective asked him to please answer some questions. They took him to a car that was later described as a “cop car” and left the area. Andy was nervous and jittery but seconds later a pinch in his thigh rendered him unconscious until he woke up hanging upside down looking at the inverted face of Ian Carlo Carducci. The realization of where he was and who was in front of him sent distress signals to the sphincters of his lower body and as he uncontrollably urinated over himself the piss flowed down his neck and onto his face. Ian Carlo just stared for about a minute with a deadpan face that revealed nothing – yet promised the worst – driving the utter fear of God into Andy. Diarrhea overcame him and added streams of shit to his misery.
“I only have one question for you,” Ian Carlo said in a low voice that did not betray the fury that he felt. “Why did you put a bomb on the Lear?”
Andy was no standup guy and much less for a fuck-wad like Tony Kisses. He told Ian Carlo everything with detail down to the night he spent with a couple of hookers using the five grand that Tony had paid for the job. Drained of all he knew he fainted and mercifully missed the nod from Ian Carlo that was followed by a brutal smash to the back of his head, so vicious that his worthless brains joined the shit and piss on the cement floor. Ian Carlo then dismissed the two brothers with a fat envelope for each. It would be several days before the stench of the hanging carcass attracted a security guard who, after vomiting, called it in to the NYPD.
Far away M&M had managed to find out who and where the maid was who left the Delany’s’ so soon after their death. And he planned to find out a lot more.
Tony Kisses was walking down Jamaica Avenue towards his favorite diner when he was unceremoniously shoved into a van together with his two bodyguards who were unconscious on the floor, trembling from massive doses of stun gun juice. Tony on the other hand was well aware of what was happening to him as an entire team of enforcers from the Carducci family were his silent and sullen companions. The two bodyguards were dumped in an alley behind a K-Mart as they were not part of Tony’s betrayal. A half hour later Tony was being expertly w
ater boarded in an abandoned YMCA in Queens. The tender ministrations were being applied by an ex-CIA thug who had learned and practiced the technique in a Polish jail where several dozen Al-Qaida members from Saudi Arabia were interrogated for months before being returned to the more intense and devastating attentions of the Saudi secret service.
Tony was not given a chance to say much; every few minutes he would be given time to recuperate and before he could say much the process would begin again, over and over. Several hours later Tony’s vital signs became erratic and his blood pressure was going through the roof. A nurse who was monitoring him advised Ian Carlo that further waterboarding would kill him. He was then tied to a chair and fed two bottles of Five Hour Energy, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of very strong coffee. Two minutes later he was hyped up to an unbelievable level with his heart racing at 130 beats per minute yet his blood pressure had tanked. There was a lot of anxiety but no disorientation; Tony knew where he was and what was happening to him. Before anyone asked him a single question Tony told everything he had done, who had hired him, how much was in his bank, what his mistress’ address was, where his mother lived and anything else he thought might save him from further hell.
The Carducci Convergence Page 8