by David Nees
After a last look around, he shouldered his backpack and with his rifle slung over his shoulder, headed off through the woods. As the crow flew it was only a couple of miles to the lodge, but Dan would take a circuitous route to avoid the few farm buildings thrust up into the forest.
The forest this time of the year was still damp. The spring moisture, fed by the rains and melting snow had not yet dried up. He hiked around the boggy sections in the woods, sticking to the firmer ground. Even there the ground was soft and wet. The walking was quiet; no leaves crunched under foot. Dan felt good to be out in the remote forest. The plants were budding and coming alive with the warmer weather, showing the promise of summer richness. The trees were only partially leafed out, still allowing a substantial amount of sunlight in. Later the light would have difficulty penetrating the dense canopy. Despite the cool air, Dan could feel the strength of the sun when he came to the clearings.
He felt no need to hurry. If this was all a trap, they would wait for him. He figured, as before, the mob would not properly estimate his ability or his preparation. There was little likelihood they would guess that he would hike miles through the forest to come at the lodge from an unexpected direction. They would expect him to drive up the road, stop before the last bend and walk the rest of the way, approaching from the front. That’s how they would do it. Their lack of imagination would play into his hands.
His sniper training made it easy for him to navigate the forest and endure days, if necessary, of waiting in a hide to take out his target. He could move quietly, he knew how to set up a sniper’s hide, and he could maneuver in the deep woods without getting lost or turned around. The Army hadn’t abandoned this basic element in its training even though the combat field had shifted to more urban action. Dan had packed enough gear to wait, days if necessary. He liked being in the forest; he was a city boy, but always enjoyed his training time in the woods. With the lodge out in the country, Dan knew he was more in his element than the mob. When he got near, he would set up his sniper position and collect brush and leaves to thread into the mesh of his ghillie suit.
Chapter 49
Vincent and Sheila sat in their kitchen the night after he spoke with Mike Warner. “Have you talked any more to Gina?”
“She called me today. Just wanted to check in. She’s checking up on me, fishing for information. I don’t get any warm feelings from her conversation.”
“You gotta be careful talking with Gina. I told you she’s taking everything back to Carmine.”
“Are you sure? Did Carmine say anything? Because I’ve been careful about what I say.”
“Carmine’s fishing with me as well. He’s nervous. You just keep telling Gina everything’s fine.”
“But they aren’t. And now we have to worry about Carmine as well?” She got up, took an open bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge and poured herself a second large glass.
Vincent didn’t answer. Finally he told Sheila that he had talked with Mike.
“I’m so glad. What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything specific. Those guys never do.”
“Well he promised to protect us, how’s he going to do that? Did you ask him?
“I know how he’ll do it: the Witness Protection Program. I spill my guts to him, rat out everyone I know, and he takes us out of Long Island and sets us up in a new life. That’s what he’s offering.”
“That seems like a lot to pay to get some protection,” she said after a moment.
“Everything costs. There’s no free ride.”
Sheila stared at her glass, now half empty. “Will it come to that? Our whole life changing like that? I guess we got enough money to make it work—”
“It don’t work like that. We don’t get to keep our money. You’d have to give up this lifestyle, all the things you like.” He waved his arms around to encompass the room and the house. “We’d be nothing special. I’d be a working stiff trying to make ends meet and you’d be a housewife, having to scrimp and save. And the girls? They wouldn’t be able to buy new clothes every season and spend lots of money on themselves and their friends.” Vincent tapped on the table. “How’s that sound to you?”
Sheila sat there with a growing look of pain on her face. Vincent could see she was trying hard not to lose control. “Is it that bad? Why does it have to come to that? We haven’t done anything wrong.”
Vincent leaned across the table towards his wife. “Look, if things don’t settle down, Carmine may be forced to take action. He’s not going to buck Silvio. I know too much, don’t you see? I’m in a trap, and it don’t look good if this guy Dan can’t be stopped. The Feds don’t have anything on me, but they know I can implicate Carmine and Silvio, along with other Capos, in a lot of stuff. That’s why they want me to turn. Maybe that’s why they can’t find this guy, Dan.”
Vincent found himself drawn to Sheila in their shared stress. Maybe it was their history. They had been through a lot, and he had had the fire for her at one time. Now with his world coming apart, he found himself thinking more of her, even with her hysteria. Somehow he’d get them through this mess. He just didn’t know how. The key was Frank making sure no one came back from the lodge.
Frank brought quite an arsenal with him. He had two .45 caliber Model 1911s, one with a suppressor, one without; a semi-automatic shotgun that held seven rounds, and an AK47 which shot a 7.62 round, equivalent to the .308 rounds Dan used in his sniper rifle. The AK could fire in semi- and full automatic mode, giving Frank a rate-of-fire advantage if he got into a gun battle with Dan. He figured Dan’s sniper rifle was a traditional bolt action which would limit his ability to put shots downrange, while Frank could smother any position with a dense burst of rounds.
After unloading the car and bringing their gear inside, Frank went into the kitchen and made some coffee. He explained to Joey that if Dan showed up and there was a gun battle, the cops would arrive at some point. They would have to move fast to get out of there. It would be a disaster for them to be caught with all those weapons.
Dan arrived at the lodge late in the day. Joey and Frank had been there for two days. He had approached it from the northwest, which was opposite the direction of the road. He had carefully skirted the lodge to take up a position to the north. From his position on a ridge, he overlooked a cleared area around the lodge. The distance was about three hundred yards. He was about fifty feet above the lodge. There were thickets below him, but he had a direct line of sight over the growth to the building. He had an area of fire sweeping from the driveway across the front of the lodge. The windows at the front of the building offered a possible, but more difficult shot.
No one appeared out front during the rest of the day. He could see figures flitting past the windows, just brief shadows. That night he saw the splash of light as someone went out the back door, but no clear shot presented itself. Dan watched the whole next day. It was now going into the second night, and he hadn’t got a good view of either man outside the building. Frank’s presence complicated matters, but didn’t deter Dan from his plan. Either both, or just Joey. It didn’t matter to him. Joey was not leaving alive.
The occasional glimpses of a figure moving past a window, just a silhouette as the curtains were all drawn, didn’t offer a clear shot. They had to come out sometime. Now that he was there, he would wait patiently. Time didn’t matter. Finishing this job did.
He was calm. There was no elation. This was the culmination of his mission, yet he felt no release. Would it come after the shot? He doubted it. A debt would be paid. He was the debt collector.
It’s for you, Rita. He repeated those words like a mantra as he waited. Somehow the repetition didn’t help, but he kept at it. He thought about how he should take Joey out. Dan knew it was best to take the shot and leave. One shot, one kill and slip away, silent and unseen. That was what his training called for. But he couldn’t suppress a need to confront Joey. Killing him with one shot seemed too easy on him. Part of him wanted Joe
y to face his execution. Did he want Joey to plead for his life? Dan shuddered at that thought. As much as he hated Joey, he didn’t relish him collapsing in a pathetic heap. It would be easier to exact his “justice” on an unrepentant Joey, not a sniveling Joey. Still the urge to show himself to the guy, even for a moment before his execution grew in him, against all his better judgment.
What could go wrong? He snorted. Famous last words. Don’t be a fool.
The second night was cold like the first. Dan huddled under his survivor blanket; sleep came only fitfully. He was slowly burning his energy reserves. He had a couple of days to go with water and high energy snacks, but he would need more sleep to keep refreshed and alert. Dawn arrived. It was a chilly, late spring day, but at least the sun would be out.
Dan slipped back from his hide, stretched and relieved himself. He crept back into the nest he had made, drank some water, and ate an energy bar. Then settled down for more waiting and watching. His Remington 700 was loaded and ready to fire with the flip of the safety. He was using full load, super-sonic rounds with the suppressor. He wanted maximum velocity and accuracy. Out here in the woods, he was not worried about the gunshot. It would be heard some distance away but would be dismissed as someone doing target practice out in the woods. Short of a multiple-round fire fight, Dan’s shot wouldn’t attract any serious attention. He squirmed to find a comfortable position and studied the lodge through his scope.
He had already computed the distance for his shot and now adjusted his calculations for the light morning breeze from the west. He was ready. How many hours had he spent looking through his scope in Iraq? It was part of the job. He was used to it. Only out here, there was no one to relieve him. He would have to be on watch again, for a full ten hours.
Frank woke up with a stiff neck. He had not slept well. He never slept well in strange surroundings. He faced another day of waiting. Would there be any action? His preference was to let Dan take Joey out and then he would go after Dan. How long would it be before he showed up? Frank didn’t doubt that he would show. Dan would take the bait; he wanted Joey that badly. He went down the hall to the bathroom to pee, and then headed to the kitchen to make coffee.
Frank wondered if he would be a target. Dan wanted Joey, but would he settle for Frank? He concluded that might be a target as well. The only question was would he be before or after Joey? With his cup in hand he stood well back from the front windows and tried to scan the woods, especially the ridge beyond the clearing. Then he went to check out the rear of the lodge. Dan was most likely to be somewhere on the ridge in the front; it had the best sight line across the cleared field, so the rear presented a possible exit route.
Up on the ridge Dan waited.
Chapter 50
Vincent’s paranoia was growing. He was sure he wasn’t just imagining things. Some of Carmine’s guys were coming around to the Gardens more frequently. Sometimes they would act like it was no big deal; other times, they asked him questions that Carmine himself could ask if he would only call.
“Carmine don’t want to call you while things are so hot with the Feds,” was the standard reply. It made some sense, but it also increased Vincent’s discomfort.
No one had experienced a run-in with Dan since Joey left town. The cops were still hanging out at Vincent’s house, but only at night now. By retracing the path of the bullets from the holes in the wall, they had discovered the spot where they thought the shots had been taken, but found nothing that could connect the place to anyone, let alone Dan. With that discovery, Vincent figured his house was now free from any more assaults, but he still had to go to work. The restaurant was still vulnerable and he didn’t want the cops staking it out. Carmine would be furious.
He still felt threatened—by Dan, and now by his growing worry about Carmine and Silvio. While he was close to the other Capos, they would not shed a tear, except for show, if he got whacked. They would figure he had to accept the consequences if he lost control. That night he talked with Sheila some more about the offer.
“If things get too hot, his offer might be our only way out,” he said.
“But we don’t get to take our money? That’s what you said. Are you sure?”
“What do you think? I’m an expert on this? No, I’m not sure. I stayed away from this kind of thing all my life. Now you expect me to be an expert?”
Sheila looked at her husband. They had grown closer during this time although he still yelled at her. It seemed as if Vincent needed her more with this stress. She wasn’t sure why now, but that part felt nice. Over the years they had grown distant and complacent. She filled her time and interests with shopping, the girls and the few friends she could maintain—most of them mob wives. Vincent seemed to fill his time with his work, and mistresses, which Sheila suspected but didn’t want to know about.
“Don’t get angry,” she said. “We need to talk about this. Would it be helpful to ask Mike some questions? Maybe we can take our money and some possessions. If you don’t know, maybe we should ask?”
Vincent looked back at his wife. She still didn’t get how dangerous it was. “If I’m caught talking to this guy, I’m signing my death warrant. Do you get that? It’s dangerous to talk to him. Nobody in my business does that.” He didn’t want to get her hysterical. Lord knows she’d been that way often enough this past month, but she had to understand.
“Okay, it’s dangerous. But how else will we know about this? If, like you say, things get worse.”
Vincent sat back and thought for a moment. Maybe phoning from home would be safe enough. The cops were outside and two of his guys were also parked down the road a bit. Carmine hadn’t sent any of his men out to the house…yet.
“All right. If it will make you feel better, I’ll call him.” He picked up his cell phone and punched Mike’s number.
When the agent answered, Vincent asked him what they could take with them if they decided to go into the protection program. “I’m not saying we’re going to do anything. I just want to know what my options are.”
“I understand,” Mike replied.
“How much cash can we take with us? I get paid a lot in my work, between the restaurant and the trucking company.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
“So, can I take that with me? I earned it and don’t want to lose it. That ain’t right.”
“Vincent, if its legal money, not from drugs or crime, and you can prove it, you can take those funds out and re-deposit them when we relocate you.”
“I earned it and paid taxes on it, so what else do you need to know about it?”
“If it’s declared income that you paid taxes on, then I don’t have a problem with it. If you got a million dollars in cash stashed in your attic, that’s another issue and I can’t help you with it.”
“You’re all heart,” Vincent replied.
“So, you ready to get out of the game? Get your family to safety?”
“I didn’t say anything about that. I told you I’m just asking so I know what the options are. What about cars, jewelry, clothes?”
“Cars can be traced. We’ll help you get new cars. Clothes and jewelry you can take, but remember, we’re not bringing in a moving van. This will be moving out light.”
“We’ll be leaving behind all our furniture, all we’ve accumulated here in the house. We’ll need to replace that.”
“We can help you. The house and furnishings will be sold. That money will go to re-supply you in your new home. So when do we do this?”
“I told you, I’m just asking for information. I got no plans to ‘do this’, as you call it, right now.”
“Just don’t wait too long. Carmine and Silvio aren’t getting any calmer.”
“Well, things may be settling down and getting back to normal and maybe we won’t need your offer. I get the feeling this Dan guy has left the area. Maybe all this is over and you can go back to wiretapping investment bankers—you know those Wall Street guys. They’re worse crooks than
we are.” Vincent was looking forward to hearing from Frank that this nightmare was all over. That would square him with Silvio and Carmine.
“I appreciate your career advice, but I’m not kidding you about Carmine and Silvio.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the info.” And with that Vincent hung up. “That dumb fucker thinks he can panic me like he did you.”
“What’d you find out?”
“We can take the money we have in the bank and clothes and jewelry. We would have to pack light if we do this.” He went on to explain the rest of the program. “I’ll make some deposits, just in case, to get some of the cash here into the bank.” Vincent was thinking ahead. He also planned to pack up some of it, if they had to leave. What were they going to do, inspect his suitcases?
Down the street, Tony listened on his scanner as the cell phone call went through to Mike. He had ear phones on so the others in the car wouldn’t know he was intercepting a call from their boss. They thought Tony was monitoring the cops.
Chapter 51
Joey was bored. He had been at the lodge for three days now. He watched TV, watched the front windows, listened to the faint sounds of traffic on Route 8A, and paced around the rooms. He was beginning to talk to himself. Frank was lousy company. He just sat and looked at the old magazines left at the lodge. Joey wasn’t sure how long he could stand it. He wasn’t one for being quiet and reflective. If he had someone he could talk to, or who would play cards with him, it would be easier. The two of them had a few beers each day, but not much conversation.
Joey went into the kitchen. The sink was full of dirty dishes. Frank would clean his own dishes but didn’t touch Joey’s, which were piling up. He rinsed out a cup and poured himself some coffee. It was left over from yesterday, so he heated it in the microwave. His face twisted; it wasn’t a good cup of coffee. He decided that he should have gone into hiding with a whore to keep him company. Joey smiled at the thought. He should have taken one of the girls that the mob ran. He could afford to pay her for the week. That just might be the perfect wife, he thought. Of course, she’d have to clean as well, and that was the problem; the girls he knew didn’t know how to cook and certainly didn’t wash dishes.