The Heart of an Assassin

by Tony Bertot

  With the judge being protected and all, it would be hard to set up in any location where he could use a rifle, so a handgun with a silencer would have to be the tool of choice. He would have to come within fifty feet of him, shoot, and be able to escape. It had been done before, but every job presented new challenges. Nothing he couldn’t handle, Nick thought to himself.

  Arriving at 1015 North Main Street, Nick pulled over to the curb and parked the car a block away from the gun shop. It being a workday, the streets were relatively empty, except for a few window-shoppers. Nick got out of the car and proceeded north on Main Street. Reaching the front of the shop, he peered in, and seeing the shop empty of customers, went right in.

  Behind a counter was a balding man who appeared to be about five feet tall, weighing approximately 125 pounds. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked Nick.

  “Maybe. A friend of mine recommended your shop,” Nick responded. “Are you Eric Shamoski?”

  “Yes, I am,” the man replied. “Oh, and who was this friend of yours that recommended me?”

  “His name is F. U. Shmuck,” answered Nick.

  Eric stared at the six-foot man in front of him and, in a second, knew not to push the matter further. Nick had removed his dark glasses, and his cold eyes told Eric all he needed to know. Don’t fuck with this guy, thought Eric to himself, but what he said was, “Sir, whatever you need. I am sure I can help you”

  “I am looking for a good handgun with the proper silencer. One that cannot be heard by anyone close by,” Nick told Eric.

  “I see. You planning on a hit or something?” asked Eric smiling. Nick gave Eric a cold stare and said nothing as a hot flash went though Eric’s body. At that moment, Nick felt like grabbing this fuck’s head and shoving a fist down his throat.

  “No, nothing so dramatic,” responded Nick as he controlled his words. “You got what I need or not?” Nick got a little irritated.

  Eric felt his stomach turn as he realized he fucked up royally. He saw Nick’s eyes turn red and his fist clench. He knew he fucked up and now had to make up for it, real fast. “Uh . . . I didn’t mean anything by it. You know inside joke. I say that to my customers all the time,” said Eric, trying to defuse the situation with humor.

  “I get it,” Nick responded.

  “Well, let me see, here,” Eric said, looking down at the counter in front of him, a little shaken. “I . . . I don’t have anything here, but I am sure I have something in the back. Please give me a minute,” he told Nick. Nick nodded as he went about looking around the shop.

  Eric disappeared into the back room, feeling somewhat relieved that his stupidity did not cost him his life. This fucker was no one to kid with. What the hell was I thinking, he thought to himself. He gathered his wits about him, and after a short period, Eric returned carrying a few boxes.

  Just then, two customers came into the store. Eric looked up and told them he would be right with them. Nick looked at Eric, once more a little annoyed with Eric’s behavior. “Take care of them first. I’m in no hurry,” Nick advised Eric.

  “Oh . . . um . . . yes, of course,” Eric responded.

  Nick stared for a second at Eric. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Umm, sure no problem,” responded Eric.

  Nick walked back to his car and got in, sat there while he watched the front of the shop. After a few minutes, the two that had entered the gun shop left. Now that the shop was empty, Nick walked back to the shop.

  Closing the door behind him, he turned the Open sign over so that the Closed sign now appeared in the door window. Eric, seeing what Nick had done, nodded his approval. “I am so sorry. Not used to dealing with your type of clientele,” Eric apologized.

  “No problem. I understand,” responded Nick. Eric showed Nick two sets of guns, a 1984 .32 H&R magnum and a .38 special caliber S&W revolver, both in excellent condition with top-of-the-line silencers.

  Nick was impressed with the quality of both guns and decided to take them both. Eric was pleased with the transaction as Nick was quite generous. Still feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Nick turned to Eric before leaving and said in a cold, flat voice, “If you intend to continue in this line of business, may I suggest that you behave in a more professional manner. Otherwise deal with the consequences.”

  Eric stared at Nick’s cold eyes without flinching as he finished making his statement and left the shop. His cold eyes and mannerism left Eric seriously wondering if the cost of doing business with these kinds of people was really worth it. That night Eric would not sleep well, not sleep well at all.

  Nick arrived back in Newark, and for the next several hours went over the interaction between himself and Eric Shamoski, finally making up his mind that unnecessary risk was unacceptable in his line of work. There was no room for error and that was key to his survival.

  A Change of Heart

  June 6, 1984

  The next morning, Eric Shamoski awoke with a scream. He dreamed that there were people chasing him with guns and knives. It was horrible. His wife, Irene, was startled out of her sleep with Eric’s outburst.

  “What’s the matter with you? You scared the crap out of me,” she screamed at him.

  “There’s something I gotta tell you. Got to tell someone. But . . . but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Promise me first,” he begged her.

  Eric and Irene had been married for over twenty years, and she knew when something was really wrong, when something was bothering him. And this had every indication that something was wrong. “Sure, sure, honey, what is it?” she asked, now concerned.

  “This guy came into the shop, and I sold him a gun, illegally” he responded.

  “What do you mean illegally?” she asked.

  “Well, I didn’t make him sign for anything. Plus, I sold him silencers with the gun, which are illegal,” he finished.

  “So what?” she said.

  “Well, I think he is going to use the guns to kill someone,” he responded to her.

  “What! You really think this guy is going to kill someone? Can the guns be traced back to you?” she asked.

  “Maybe, maybe they can. I don’t know,” he almost screamed.

  “What was he like, this guy who bought the guns?” she asked.

  “Irene, he was cold. I mean scary cold. He looked right at me before leaving the shop and told me that I better be careful or suffer the consequences,” Eric told her.

  “What does that mean?” she asked him.

  “You know, suffer the consequences. I think he meant I could get killed if I screw up. I’m sure that’s what he meant,” Eric responded.

  She sat there staring at her husband. She could see that this guy really scared him. This was really serious. “Eric, you could go to jail for selling the gun,” she told him.

  “Yeah, I know,” he responded. “But . . . but if this guy kills someone, I can be held as an accessory, I think. Oh god, what have I done? How could I be so stupid?” he said aloud.

  “What if you call the police and tell them that he scared you and you had no choice?” she asked him.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what they would say,” he responded.

  “Honey, its three o’clock in the morning. Let’s sleep on it and decide what we are going to do in the morning,” she advised.

  “I can’t sleep, I’ve tried. I keep thinking this guy is going to come after me, or that he is going to kill someone and the police are going to arrest me,” he responded.

  “Then call the police,” she said. “Tell them that he threatened you and that you had no choice.” He stared at her for a moment, realizing he had no choice.

  “Okay, I’ll call them. I’ll call them right now,” he agreed.

  After getting out of bed, Irene went downstairs to make some coffee while Eric got dressed and joined her in the kitchen. The local police immediately sent out a car to get the information about the gun transaction. Officers Andrew Washborn, known to his partner as Drew, and Stephanie R
usnock arrived around 5:00 a.m. to take Eric’s statement.

  After two hours of questions, both officers were convinced that they had a real concern. Though the officers did get a good description, they wanted Eric to come down to the station to see if they could have the stranger’s face sketched by one of their artists. Eric agreed to go down in the morning after he showered and got dressed.

  At 7:45 a.m. the police officers left the Shamoski home. With their shift being over in fifteen minutes, they headed back to the station to file their paperwork. They didn’t see any reason to hang around since Eric would be coming down to the station shortly. What they should have seen was the black car across the street watching their every move.

  When the police vehicle had disappeared from view, Nick stepped out of his car and walked over to the Shamoski house. He looked around to make sure no one was watching as he tried the front door; it was locked. He knocked and waited as he heard Irene, who was in the kitchen.

  Thinking the officers forgot something she said, “Just a minute, be right there.” As she opened the door, Nick raised the gun to her head and pulled the trigger. A burst of blood hit the wall behind Irene as the bullet exited the back of her head.

  Closing the door behind him, he walked into the living room and then into the kitchen. Hearing the shower running upstairs, he went up. A few seconds later, he was in Eric’s bathroom.“Hey, you’re letting the cold in,” Eric yelled back, thinking his wife opened the door. Nick fired once into the abdominal area of the silhouette behind the shower curtain. He pulled the curtain aside and fired three more shots, one into each eye and the third into Eric’s mouth as Eric stared in horror grasping his stomach.

  Nick was back in his car and was gone within a minute of entering the house. Across the street, a neighbor, looking out of an upstairs window, noticed Nick get into his car and drive off. Later on, he would be describing the car and driver to the local police.

  A New Identity

  June 7-12, 1984

  Nick realized that it was time for a complete makeover. He would need to return the rented car, change his appearance, and get new identification. In this business, you could never be too careful.

  The next day, Nick made a call from a nearby phone to his contact, Gene Tyler, in San Francisco, who took care of Nick’s needs when it came to acquiring new papers. Gene, like Jay Messina, had known Nick for over twenty years. Though they did not serve together, Gene too was a veteran of the Vietnam War.

  Nick met Gene when he came out to San Francisco in the early sixties. They immediately established a bond over a weekend when they both got shit faced on whiskey and beer. Nick was more relaxed back then and trusted more people. Though time had changed him, made him more of an introvert who trusted fewer people, Gene, like Jay, had remained in his life.

  Nick explained to Gene what he was looking for and that he needed the papers as soon as possible. Gene was to mail them to his present location, care of Neal Galuchi.

  Gene didn’t need any photographs of Nick or any other information as he already had all the data he needed to create the paperwork. He knew Nick was good at his word and also knew that Nick would not be calling him if it wasn’t urgent.

  While Nick waited for the papers, he called Felicia for an update on any news on the whereabouts of his mark. Fabio answered the phone and told Nick that there was information coming in all of the time, but nothing concrete as yet. All they knew was that the judge went underground and was being protected by the FBI and by two local detectives. Also, the judge was expected to be testifying on July 9 at the federal courthouse in downtown New York City; exactly where, was still unknown.

  Nick informed Fabio that before he could move forward he needed to know exactly what car the mark was in, what the agents and detectives looked like, and where they were last seen. Fabio acknowledge that he understood and assured Nick they were working on it around the clock. Fabio asked Nick for a number at which he could be reached. Nick said he was constantly moving and could not be reached, but would call back in a couple of days.

  Ravena New York

  June 11-14, 1984

  As Nick waited for his new identity in New Jersey, Tyler and Sheila were approximately 140 miles north of Manhattan, ordering takeout from a local McDonalds in Ravena, New York. Meanwhile Eric, Sam, and the judge were holed up a few miles down the road in a motel, which they had settled into a few days ago.

  Sheila told Tyler that she had to call in, but they would need to drive as far away from this location as possible. Tyler became fond of Sheila over the last couple of days, realizing how professional she was and how serious she took her responsibilities. After handing her the keys, they drove several miles before she found a pay phone she was comfortable using. Pulling up to a gas station in Coxsackie, New York, approximately eight miles away from Ravena, Sheila made her call.

  “Sheila, dump the car!” John almost shouted into the phone.

  Sheila immediately hung up and, without any indication that anything was wrong, walked over to Tyler. “We got to dump this car,” she told him. Tyler stared at her for a few seconds.

  “Shit! How stupid could I have been to use my own damn car?” he asked himself aloud.

  Driving toward the New York Thruway, they decided to dump the car at a nearby train station. With the assistance of the local police, they were able to obtain a car from a local dealer without revealing who they were or where they were going.

  At the local precinct, they finished up their transaction as a news broadcast came over the wire that the police were looking for a 1984 black four-door Accord with the license plate of 47KPDT. The captain stared at both Tyler and Sheila as they all listened to the announcement.

  “What the hell,” Tyler remarked. “We need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible,” he told the captain.

  The captain, a thirty-year veteran of the police force, advised them to stay off the main roads. As soon as Tyler and Sheila were on their way, the captain called the TV station ordering that the broadcast be immediately suspended.

  Back at the motel in Ravena, the owner on duty saw the license plate number over the broadcast and reported to the local police that the driver of the car checked into the motel several days ago and was still there. This information hit the Giordano family within fifteen minutes of the call. They immediately dispatched some of their people to the motel.

  Tyler and Sheila, now driving a 1983 blue four-door BMW, headed back to the motel quickly with lives now hanging in the balance. Twenty minutes later, they were knocking at the front door of their room.

  “We need to get out of here, right now!” Sheila ordered. They scrambled out of the room and jumped into the BMW and headed out of the complex.

  At the same time, the owner of the hotel was advising two strangers claiming to be from the FBI the room number of the ”suspects”. As they were exiting the office, a blue four-door BMW passed by going in the opposite direction. Sheila, who was sitting in the front passenger side, glanced at the two men as one of them met her eyes for just a second. Both parties continued on their way in opposite directions.

  A minute later, the two men were walking past the room, pretending to be chatting with one another as they did a quick glance through the window. They could see no one was there. Just then, the owner came running up to them, excited.

  “Hey, fellas, they just left in that BMW that passed you,” he shouted.

  “What BMW?” asked one of the men.

  “The blue one that went right past you as you left the office,” the owner responded.

  “How the fuck do you know?” they asked.

  “Cause I saw them. I saw the guy who rented the place driving the car. They obviously switched cars,” the owner added.

  “Shit. We got to call it in,” said one of the men. A minute later, the Giordano family was receiving word that they had switched cars.

  The Giordano family found out that the broadcast had been cancelled per a request from a po
lice captain in upstate New York, around the town of Coxsackie. All were ordered to keep an eye out for a 1983 blue four-door BMW with five passengers. Within the hour, Nick called to see if there was any progress in locating the judge. They advised him that they were spotted in upstate New York around the towns of Ravena and Coxsackie.

  Having received the package he was waiting for, the transformation took approximately one hour. Nick’s new identity, that of Joseph Drummer, a sales person out of Kansas City, called for him to change his appearance completely. He bought some hair dye from the local drugstore, changed his hair color to black, and shaved off his mustache. He also got some tinted contact lenses, resulting in the appearance of him having green eyes. Nick walked away from the motel, never checking out, and took a cab to a nearby car dealership where he paid cash for a 1980 black Buick Century Sport Coupe.

  Using the Nick Galuchi, and later on Robert Edwards, ATM cards, he withdrew a few hundred dollars from each account at several ATMs. He made sure to park out of camera view and never looked directly into any of the cameras. Finally, after discarding all of the Nick Galuchi and Robert Edwards identification and credit cards, he jumped into his car and headed toward Ravena, New York.

  Giordano Family Mobilizes

  June 11-14, 1984

  Realizing the urgency of the situation, Fabio dispatched all available vehicles, now equipped with mobile phones, to Ravena and Coxsackie. All were advised to look for a blue BMW with five passengers, consisting of four men and a woman. Within thirty minutes, there were over fifty cars headed upstate.

  Jimmy Russo, John De Luca, and Encino Russo coordinated from the Giordano home in New Jersey, instructing the various drivers which roads to take so that they could cover a larger area. Some cars were told to remain at strategic spots looking for any cars fitting the description in case they decided to return to the city.