“Ready?” Glass Eye mouthed, looking at Bull Neck.
“Sure,” Bull Neck whispered, holding the pistol he’d just taken out of the bag.
The two men burst into the dark room, crashing the flimsy wooden door against the wall. Glass Eye felt for the light switch while Bull Neck ran to the bed.
Floyd Crouten bolted upright when he heard the noise. “Ugh. What—” His eyes were wide open and shining in terror.
Bull Neck smothered Crouten’s mouth with his huge left palm and cuffed him with the butt of the pistol. “Don’t say a fucking word.” His face was close to Crouten’s. “Do you understand me?”
Crouten did his best to nod.
Glass Eye walked round the other side of the bed and made sure the blinds were completely shut before nodding to his accomplice.
Bull Neck held the tip of the pistol to Crouten’s temple. “I’m going to take my hand away now. You say a word, and you’re dead. Understood?”
Crouten rocked his head slowly, his eyes darting from the gun to Glass Eye and back to Bull Neck. When Bull Neck removed his hand, Crouten gasped for breath and pushed his body right up against the headboard.
Glass Eye said sat on the side of the bed. “Now, I’m going to give you permission to speak. When you do, I want you to keep it real quiet. We’re not here to answer your questions, so don’t waste your time. Have you got that?”
Crouten glanced at Bull Neck to check it was okay with him to speak and then said, “Yes.”
“That’s it. Keep your voice nice and quiet, just like that.”
Glass Eye reached into his jacket, and Crouten flinched. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot you.” He looked over to Bull Neck. “But he might.”
In his hand, he held a brown envelope, which he opened and then took out a handful of photos. Slowly, he held them up, one by one, in front of Crouten’s face. Crouten stared at them and gulped. His breathing was fast and stuttering.
“What do you think your colleagues would say if they saw these?” asked Glass Eye. “This here’s my favorite.” He held up a photo of Crouten kissing the young man from the nightclub. “What do you think?” he said, turning it toward Bull Neck.
Bull Neck looked like he wanted to spit. “I say we kill the pervert now.”
Crouten stiffened. “Please.”
“Not yet,” Glass Eye said. He took the final photo out of the envelope and held it in front of Crouten. “You see this one? You may not recognize it.” The picture was of a boy in a school uniform. “That’s the same kid whose throat you had your tongue down in the last shot. He’s only fourteen. Still at school.”
Crouten’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible.”
“I’ll give you one guess who he works for.”
“I had no idea he was that age. I swear.”
“When these photos turn up at Federal Plaza, what are the rest of the Feds going to think of their coworker, the child molester?”
“Please. I’ll do anything. What do you want?”
“I’ll allow you that question, because that’s where I was going next.”
Bull Neck held the pistol to Crouten’s cheek. “You sure you don’t want to kill the sad fuck now?”
“Let’s see if he can help us first.”
“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”
“We know you’ve been investigating the Grannis Hedge Fund.”
“What? We—”
Glass Eye cocked his head. “You’re not about to lie to us, are you? We know all about it.”
“Okay. We’ve had Grannis under surveillance, yes.”
“How long?”
“Only a short while. We’ve not really started.”
“Well, you need to make it all go away. Can you do that?”
“I’m sure I can. I head up the team. I can stop it right away.”
“That’s what we thought.”
“I’ll take care of everything, I promise.”
“And we’ll never see your people sniffing round again?”
“I swear. I’ll call them off first thing tomorrow.”
Glass Eye held up the photos. “If you don’t, we’re going to have some fun with these.”
Bull Neck leaned forward. “After we’ve had our fun, I’ll be back here to blow your faggot brains out.” He shoved the gun into Crouten’s face.
“That won’t be necessary,” Crouten said, his voice trembling. “The Grannis investigation stops now. I promise.”
Bull Neck looked toward Glass Eye. “Do you believe him?”
Glass Eye pondered the question while Crouten shivered. “Let’s give him a chance to prove he’s not lying to us.”
Bull Neck shook his head in disappointment. “I’ll be watching you.” He pushed the pistol harder into Crouten’s skin. “Just give me an excuse.”
Chapter 36
THE DAY AFTER THE K-MINES DEAL CLOSED, Michael and Caroline took the girls for a week’s vacation in Chatham on Cape Cod. Caroline had spent many summers there as a child, and after her parents retired, they moved to the town, where they bought a property off Kettle Drum Lane. The Hoffmans rented a house not far from her parents’ place. They spent most days at the beach before strolling to one of the restaurants on Main Street for dinner.
The break had been Caroline’s idea. After Michael’s recent violent outburst outside their home, she’d insisted he take a vacation. Fearing he was about to have some kind of nervous breakdown, she’d also asked him to go see a doctor, but Michael told her that wasn’t necessary. While he blamed his behavior on the stress of work, the truth was, he’d lost it that day. God knows what he would have done had he caught up with the black car. Not only had he come close to blurting the whole thing out, but as time passed, he realized how stupid he’d been. In a moment of blind madness, he’d come close to risking everything. If the people in the car were Rondell’s men, they could easily have killed him and his wife.
The good news was neither he nor Caroline had seen them since. If they had returned, they’d been more discreet about it. Of course, there was always a possibility they had nothing to do with Rondell at all. If they had been working for him, wouldn’t he have said something when he next called? The man was chasing him at least twice a week, demanding details of the next deal, but he’d never once mentioned what happened outside their home.
On Wednesday night, Michael and Caroline were able to enjoy a quiet dinner at Twenty-Eight Atlantic at the nearby Wequassett resort on Pleasant Bay while her parents looked after Hannah and Emily. The girls had insisted on having a sleepover with their grandparents, so, for once, they didn’t have to rush away from the restaurant.
“You needed this break,” Caroline said, soon after they’d ordered their desserts.
Michael looked into her eyes. “I know. Thanks for organizing it for us.”
“You look much better already.”
“I feel more relaxed. Getting away helps to put things into perspective.”
“I want you to promise me something.”
Michael was about to finish his glass of wine, but he stopped and put the glass back down. “What is it?”
“If you ever feel your work is so overwhelming that you want to stop, I want you to tell me. I’d be just as happy with you earning a fraction of the money if it meant you were okay.”
“I love you.”
“I mean it. I want you to promise me. We could always buy a little place here on the cape. Maybe run a B&B together, like Mom and Dad.”
“I promise.”
The thought of running away and enjoying a quiet life with his girls appealed to Michael right now and, for a moment, he allowed the delicious notion to drift through his mind. What he wouldn’t give to make that a reality.
The waiter brought over their desserts: apple and blueberry cobbler for him, and a selection of sorbets for Caroline.
Caroline stared at his dessert. “I don’t know where you put it. Why don’t you put on weight?”
&n
bsp; Michael grinned. “It’s called the stress diet.”
“It’s so unfair.”
The week Michael returned to work, he was summoned by Rondell to another meeting. As he drove to Brooklyn, he knew what it would be about: why hadn’t he lined up the next deal for them? Michael had plenty of work on, but at the moment, none of the transactions involved public companies. He had a private company fundraising, a reorganization of an over-borrowed engineering group, and a leveraged buy-out of a large private chain of hotels. The last two were for Etling at Corton Zander. None of these would be suitable for Rondell, as there were no listed stocks involved.
Pulling into the car park between the oil drums and parking the Lexus next to Rondell’s Mercedes, Michael looked around to see if anyone was watching. This would be the fourth time he’d met Rondell here, and it was only on that first visit he’d seen the two men in the van watching him. Maybe they had nothing to do with him or Rondell after all.
He rang the bell and recognized Rondell’s footsteps as he approached the other side of the door.
“Come in, Danny Boy.”
“I can’t stay long,” Michael said, walking past Rondell and heading toward their regular meeting room. As usual, the place was empty.
Rondell sat behind the metal desk while Michael found the only semi-clean spot on the couch, as before.
“I have meetings all afternoon,” Michael said. “I have to be away in twenty minutes.”
“This will take as long as it takes.” Rondell stopped and watched another fuel truck use his yard to perform a U-turn outside his window.
“Before you say anything, I know this is all about the next deal.”
“I can see how you made it so far, Danny Boy. With that raw intelligence…”
“The problem is the deals I have in the pipeline at the moment won’t work for you. They’re all private company transactions.”
Rondell shrugged. “That ain’t my problem. I told you to start feeding me other deals handled by Dudek’s.”
“That’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“I don’t want to hear this. Find a way to make it happen.”
“Look, I’ve proven I can bring you some great deals. You guys must have made millions out of Collar and K-Mines.”
“We did and, so far, we’ve kept our side of the bargain. Our little secret has remained with us.”
“You know you can only use that threat once.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you tell my wife about Chicago, it’s all over for both of us. Yes, you’d ruin my life, but there would be no more deals for you.”
Rondell reclined in his chair. “You don’t get it, do you? We can have a whole lot of fun with Caroline without telling her everything right away.”
“You touch her, and I’ll kill you.”
Rondell smirked. “What do you think we are here? Gangsters?” He sat upright. “We don’t need to harm her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Has Caroline ever met the broad from Corton Zander, the one who gives you all your work?”
Michael wrinkled his nose. “Do you mean Amanda Etling?”
“That’s the one. Yeah, Etling.”
“What’s Amanda got to do with any of this?”
“I’ve seen her picture. She’s a looker, isn’t she? Don’t tell me you’ve never poked that ass?”
“I don’t know where this is going, but if you think I have something to hide, then say it.”
“We’ve been watching you. We’ve seen what you’re like around her, the suggestive conversation and the flirtatious e-mails.”
“None of that is serious. We’re just friends.” Michael paused while he digested what he was hearing. “How do you know what’s in my e-mails, anyway?”
“You don’t think you’re the only one who owes us at Dudek’s?”
Was it possible Rondell had someone else working for him on the inside at the firm? The thought had never occurred to Michael. If there was someone, did he or she already know he was feeding confidential client information to Rondell? How many more people knew about this?
“If you do have access to my e-mails, then you’ll know I have nothing to hide.”
“Come on, Danny Boy. Use your imagination. Caroline must have seen the lovely Amanda at some client party, or whatever you big-shots get up to. Plus, she knows how much time you spend with her. Did the two of you have separate rooms on that recent ‘business trip’? I bet you didn’t.” Rondell smiled. “Just between us friends. What was she like?”
“We’re not all like you. Some of us made it out of the swamp.”
“How much effort do you think it would take to make Caroline believe you’re playing hide the salami with sweet little Amanda? Not much, I can tell you. All we need is to play around with your e-mails some. Maybe one or two thanking her for the great time you had overseas and hoping you get the chance to do it all again real soon.” Rondell clicked his fingers. “Hell, they could go out to Caroline today.”
Michael sat in silence. There was nothing happening between him and Etling. The relationship was purely professional. But if Rondell really did have an insider at the firm, perhaps someone in IT, then he could make up an entire story. The truth wouldn’t matter then.
“Oh yeah, Danny Boy.” Rondell said, interrupting Michael’s thoughts. “There’s a whole bunch of fun we can have before we have to use our nuclear weapon. We can really fuck up your life before we destroy it.”
Chapter 37
STEVE BRADFORD WAS PLAYING ANGRY BIRDS on his iPhone when Michael tapped on his office door.
“Are you busy?” Michael asked, trying to keep a straight face.
Bradford cringed. “Just finishing a text.” He put the phone face down on his desk. “It’s the only way to get ahold of some clients.” He rolled his eyes.
Bradford had been Michael’s protégé for many years, working with him on countless deals when he was an associate. Recently, he’d been promoted to salaried partner and was beginning to handle transactions of his own.
“I thought I’d buy you lunch.” Michael looked at the iPhone. “But only if you have the time.”
Bradford raised his palms. “Okay, so you caught me. The trouble is, it’s so addictive. Have you tried it?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Where we going? In or out?”
“Let’s go out. How about Italian?”
“Sounds good,” Bradford said, picking up his jacket.
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in Casa Romana on East 49th, picking at the olives and dunking focaccia in a mixture of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The place was heaving with expensive suits and loud voices.
Bradford scanned the menu. “Good thing we got here early.”
“I’ll try the penne arrabiata,” Michael said when the waiter came over to take their order.
“The striped bass for me,” Bradford said.
When the waiter left, Bradford leaned forward. “How’s it feel to be the firm’s golden boy?”
“Didn’t know I was.” Michael felt his cheeks warming.
“Yeah, right. Jenks has big plans for you from what I hear.”
“You shouldn’t listen to office rumors. They’re usually wrong.”
“Not this one. Everyone’s talking about the work you’re bringing in. I hear your billings hit a firm record last quarter. What’s the secret?”
“I don’t have one, Steve. Hard work, I guess.”
“That’s a pity. I was hoping I’d learn some of your tricks now that the pressure’s on.”
“What? Now you’re a partner, you mean?”
“You know what it’s like. One day, you go from working all hours for other partners. They bring in the work, and the troops do all the heavy lifting. Then they tell you you’ve made it to partner, and suddenly, you’re expected to have all these contacts bringing you work. How does that happen, when all you’ve had time for is work and sl
eep?”
“Don’t worry about it. We all faced the same challenge. It’ll come. Give it some time.”
“I hope so.”
“Believe me; you wouldn’t have been promoted if they didn’t think you had the potential to bring in work.”
“I’m glad you’re confident.”
“For me, what made a difference was learning how to push work down so I could free up time to go see clients for lunch or whatever. You just have to delegate and then make an effort to spread yourself about a little.”
“But where do you start?”
“Right here. Next time I’m going to lunch with some of the Corton Zander people, why don’t I take you with me and introduce you to them?”
“That would be great. You’d do that for me?”
Michael’s smile dropped. “Just so long as you don’t poach Etling from me.”
“Of course, buddy. I know she brings you a lot of work.” Bradford winked. “She’s attractive, too, from what I hear.”
Michael looked away.
The waiter brought over their food, saving Michael’s further blushes. Until his recent conversation with Rondell, he hadn’t realized how others might perceive his close relationship with Etling.
Michael pushed his tie to one side. “You watch me. I never fail to splash tomato sauce on my clothing.”
Bradford pointed his fork toward the plate in front of him. “You don’t have that trouble with fish.”
After a few minutes talking about football and who was sleeping with whom among the associates, Michael said, “What are you working on right now?” His tone was casual, almost disinterested. He was just making idle conversation. At least, that’s what he told himself.
“A refinancing for one of my private equity clients. They’re trying to re-leverage one of their portfolio companies so they can pay out a big dividend.”
“Good luck with that one. Getting the banks to lend for a cash-out deal is almost impossible today.”
Bradford shrugged. “That’s what I told them, but they seem happy to pay the fee, so…”
Once a Killer Page 19