Moss Murphy stepped out from behind his human shield, glared at his son, but then smiled at Joe.
“I’m glad you came. I don’t think either of us wants war.”
“That’s a funny thing to say while you’re standing on turf you took without asking.”
Liam pointed at the ground.
“Hey Pullo, this town was up for grabs after The Brotherhood got their asses fried in a fire.”
“I started that fire,” Tanner said. “I didn’t do it so the Boston mob could just roll in here like homeless squatters.”
Moss Murphy smiled as he raised up his hands and patted the air. He looked like a politician trying to placate an angry crowd.
“It’s all in the past. That’s the main thing I came here to say. As of today, we’re leaving Killburry.”
“What’s the catch?” Joe said.
“There’s no catch, Joe, and no reason for us to fight.”
“Uh-huh, so I take it you won’t be sending anymore Sean O’Doyle’s my way?”
“O’Doyle was a maverick.”
“A maverick?”
“Yeah, you know, like a troublemaker. I even had Kelly question him because I suspected he might have been behind that bakery robbery. But hey, I didn’t send him. Anyway, like I said, it’s all in the past.”
Joe pointed at Tanner.
“It’s not, ‘all in the past.’ Some crew of Salvadorans went after Tanner early this morning. What do you know about that?”
Murphy’s smile faltered.
“What would I be doing dealing with Salvadorans? And you say they went after Tanner? Then that would mean that Tanner was the one who grabbed O’Doyle out of Boston, my turf.”
“I was cleaning up your maverick problem for you,” Tanner said. “But there’s no need to thank me.”
Murphy’s smile disappeared, and in truth, it had never reached the level of his eyes. He looked over at his son as if he could strangle the boy, and Tanner wondered what voiceless message had just passed between them.
“Joe,” Murphy said, trying to sound calm. “Let’s put this trouble behind us. I have no idea why Tanner was attacked, but the man does have enemies.”
“Never for long,” Tanner said.
Pullo took a step closer to Murphy.
“We got hit four times, Moss, and we lost the revenue from this town. Before anything is settled, we need to talk about compensation.”
Murphy’s smile returned.
“It’s done. When I said I wanted to put this in the past, I meant it. Have your man Bosco there call Kelly with a figure, and I’ll pay it.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, Joe, c’mon, how long have we known each other? Have we ever had trouble before?”
“Nothing like this.”
Murphy spread his hands.
“That’s right, and we both have businesses to run. I don’t want to fight a war. I just want to make a shitload of money and bang as many women as I can.”
Tanner was looking at Kelly. For just a second he saw a look of disapproval replace the bland expression.
“Bosco,” Joe said. “Give ‘em a ballpark figure on our losses.”
Bosco named a number and Moss Murphy didn’t even blink.
“You got it. We’ll put this crap in the past and move forward. We’ll call and arrange the when and where for the money pick up. Anything else?”
“Just this, anymore shit goes down and it’s war.”
Murphy nodded.
“Sure Joe, whatever you say, and now that we’ve made peace, neither of us will have any more trouble.”
Joe was sure Murphy was just humoring him by agreeing, but he knew it didn’t matter.
“I guess we’re done,” he said.
“Enjoy Killburry, Joe, but don’t expect to make a fortune. The law here is tough on crooks like us.”
“Yeah, see you around, Moss.”
The groups separated again and went back to their respective limos.
One of Moss Murphy’s punks drove while the other one sat in the passenger seat. In the rear of the limo, Moss Murphy was facing ahead. He was seated on the right with his son beside him and Finn Kelly on the left. Across from them sat the Irish hulk, who took up the entire bench seat.
“We should have laid our cards on the table, Moss. Pullo and Tanner make good allies, but deadly enemies.”
“It’s too late for that, Kelly, after what Liam has done.”
Liam made a face of displeasure.
“You keep bitching about it, but it was the right move. That old-school Mafia shit is over and the street gangs are growing bigger every day. It’s better to be a part of a team than to have those bastards run us over.”
“It wasn’t your decision to make, Liam.”
“Why not? Are you going to live forever? I’m the future, Dad, not you, and so far, my plan has worked.”
Finn Kelly shook his head in wonder at Liam’s arrogance.
“Your plan? If your plan was to be a gutless wonder and rollover for some street gang, then yeah, boy, your plan worked.”
“You can’t talk to me that way, tell him, Dad.”
“Liam’s right, Kelly, show my boy some respect or I’ll have you put down.”
Kelly blinked in surprise.
“Moss, I’ve done nothing but look out for you for years, and I’m telling you now, Liam will be the ruin of you. If you go ahead with your plans, Tanner will turn Boston into a graveyard.”
Moss Murphy swiveled his head slowly until he was staring at Kelly.
“I don’t want to hear any more about it. Pullo and Tanner have to die. New York City is the price the Salvadorans asked to leave us alone.”
“They won’t stay out of Boston once they control New York. Don’t you see that?”
“We’ll deal with it then. Now stop talking.”
“But Moss—”
“Enough!”
Kelly said nothing more, and he fought the urge to smash Liam’s face, as the punk smiled and gave him the finger.
As Bosco drove back toward the freeway, Sammy asked a question.
“Am I the only one who thinks Moss Murphy is full of shit?”
“I didn’t buy that act for a second,” Joe said.
“He’ll come after you soon, Joe,” Rico said, “but he’ll wait until you drop your guard.”
“What do you think, Tanner?” Joe asked.
“Rico’s right, Murphy will make a move on you, but I think it’s because he can’t handle his son. That boy writes big checks, but it’s his father who has to cash them.”
Joe made a face of disgust that revealed his irritation.
“That dumb bastard. The last thing we should be doing is fighting among ourselves. There’s a hundred new gangs coming up that want our turf.”
“Like the Mexican cartels,” Sammy said, while glaring at Rico.
Rico ignored him and no one said anything for a time, while Joe looked lost in thought.
“Joe.”
“Yeah, Tanner?”
“Just say the word.”
Joe was quiet, but then sighed.
“I can’t order a hit on him. Not after we just settled things. That would make the Giacconi Family the ones who started the war.”
“I still believe that either Murphy or his son was behind the attack on me last night. I’ll be paying them a visit whether you order a hit or not.”
“It will still look like I ordered the hit.”
“I won’t kill him, for now, but I think I’ll return to Boston tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“For planning purposes. When Murphy makes a move, I want to be ready to hit him.”
“There may be an army protecting him.”
“True, but no one’s protecting them.”
“Uncle Joe,” Sammy said. “I’ll cancel my trip to New Orleans. The hell with Ricky Valente.”
“No, kid, go take care of that. It’s bad business to let that bastard get away.”
>
“You’re sure?”
“Catch that plane, a change of scenery may do you some good.”
“All right, but I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
“Tanner, when you’re in Boston, keep an eye out for that Finn Kelly,” Joe said. “I think he’s the real deal.”
“Agreed,” Tanner said, as the limo rolled back toward New York.
16
I Spy
Sara watched Kevin Kincaid’s car enter the long and graveled driveway of a house in Tarrytown, New York. Tarrytown was a village about thirty miles north of New York City.
Sara drove by the house, as there was nowhere to park on the road and several cars were behind her. According to Emma Poole, Kevin’s ex-girlfriend, the house belonged to Ian Seagate, a thirty-nine-year-old law professor.
Seagate and his fiancée bought the three-acre property seven years ago. It had a rambling old house and a dilapidated barn. The couple had planned to tear down the house and build a new home, but Seagate’s fiancée was killed by a stray bullet fired by a drug dealer. The man had been defending himself during an attempted robbery by a rival dealer.
Seagate was on the scene when it happened, and it occurred six days before the wedding.
Sara pulled over onto the shoulder a half mile down the road. When the way was clear moments later, she drove across the two-lane thoroughfare to park at a farm stand that was closed for the season. She was facing the way she had come and could see the mouth of Seagate’s driveway.
Once she obtained a satellite image of the property on her phone, Sara saw that the old house sat well back from the road. Even from the overhead view you could tell that the house had seen better days. Seagate didn’t live there, but had a home in Brooklyn.
Two more cars went up Seagate’s driveway. One was a common economy car in blue, but the other was an old Chevy Camaro in showroom condition. Sara could see the car’s bright red paint job sparkle in the sun.
Five more minutes passed before another car appeared, and it contained the last of their group. Supposedly, they were meeting there for a therapy session, but then, why not meet on campus? It was a long drive and the college had facilities for groups to gather.
Something other than therapy was going on inside that old house, something profitable, and perhaps illegal. Sara kept one eye on the driveway while she searched the web to find out everything she could about Professor Ian Seagate.
Inside the barn on his property, Ian Seagate was grinning with pride at his young friends as they all tapped fists together.
The plan was working. They were doing something about their problems instead of just talking endlessly about them, and in a few days, his sweet Emily would be avenged.
Seagate had devised the plan, had revealed it to a select few, and then they had sat around perfecting it. Of course, it had all been just a game back then, just a mental exercise about extracting justice from a broken system.
Seagate knew the name of the drug dealer who’d fired the shot that killed his fiancée. He also knew that the sonofabitch walked out of the courtroom with a reduced sentence after he testified against his suppliers.
The man had been arrested on numerous charges, including homicide, for causing the death of Seagate’s bride-to-be, Emily.
The bottom line was that the man who killed Emily was walking around free, having just been released a week earlier.
The bastard had only served six years.
But that would change after tomorrow, and the plan would be completed.
The plan was bold and required that they themselves break the law, but even that served a sense of justice. The bank branches they robbed all belonged to the same Mega-bank, a corporation that had been tied to money laundering the drug profits of a Mexican cartel.
They had robbed four banks over the last few months in different sections of the city. Each robbery had a different M.O. and no one was injured.
After each robbery, the money found its way into the possession of a known drug dealer. So far, all four men faced bank robbery charges and were serving time in prison or awaiting sentencing while in jail. None of the dealers had a direct tie to the group. Of the group’s five members, only Seagate knew who to blame for his loss, while also having an opportunity to take revenge on the man.
Seagate smiled at the young men before him. There was Roland, 18, blond, stick thin, and nervous. Roland had lost a sister to meth. Gabriel, 20, with dark hair and dark eyes. Gabriel walked with a limp. He had been shot in the hip by the same drug dealer who’d killed his parents. The man had riddled their car with bullets. Gabriel’s father had been mistaken for a police informant. That drug dealer was dead, killed in a shootout with the cops, but Gabriel still held hate for the bastard. However, after framing a similar man for one of their bank robberies, Gabriel said it made him feel better. At least they had swept one piece of garbage off the streets.
Seagate’s smile widened as he looked at Juan Vega. Vega was 19, Mexican, smart, and good-looking. He was a Christian and wanted to be a preacher. His stories about living life in a cartel-controlled town had sent shivers through the group. His mother came to the states with Juan and his two older sisters when he was twelve. They fled their country to escape the random drug violence that had taken the life of Juan’s father.
Then, there was Kevin Kincaid. The dark-haired college senior was filled with righteous anger about the devastation that drug addiction had brought to his family.
They were still boys really, Seagate thought, but they had each suffered a loss because of drugs. Each could pick a target to go after, like their latest, a no-good piece of crap named Tony Zade. Zade had been Juan Vega’s choice, because the man sold drugs in Juan’s building.
The police arrested Zade for their last robbery, but tomorrow Ian Seagate would finally get the justice he craved, and then the plan would be complete.
It was more than justice. They were committing a series of perfect crimes.
Kevin approached Seagate while gesturing at a green van that was parked inside the barn.
“Everything is ready, Professor. Juan switched out the license plates on the van and everything we need tomorrow is in the back of it.”
“Great, I’ll return here early tomorrow and drive the van into the city. Once the last bank robbery is completed, you’ll be driving me back here.”
“What if the man we’re framing is with people who can give him an alibi?”
“That’s why Gabriel will be keeping an eye on him. If we must postpone the robbery, we’ll do so, but I doubt it. I’ve been watching that bastard off and on since he was released from prison. All he ever does is stay inside that rooming house he lives in.”
“And Juan will see to our distraction,” Kevin said, then grinned. “We should do more of these and not stop after tomorrow.”
Seagate held up a finger, as a gesture of caution.
“No, that would be pushing our luck.”
“You’re right, it’s just that, I don’t know. It’s all gone so smoothly that I can’t see anything going wrong.”
Luis Zade entered his brother’s apartment in the Bronx and told the moving men accompanying him to just pack up everything. He would place it in storage and worry about it later.
Luis’s brother, Tony, was going to prison for years. While Luis was a professional thief, Tony was a drug dealer.
Recently, the police had entered Tony’s apartment with a warrant. When they left, Tony was in cuffs and charged with possession and intent to sell.
That wasn’t surprising, but what was shocking is that Tony was also charged with bank robbery. Tony swore to Luis on their mother’s soul that he didn’t rob any damn bank. However, the money from a recent bank robbery was discovered in the apartment.
The money had been placed in the freezer and hidden inside a TV dinner that was years old.
Luis believed his brother, which meant that Tony had been framed, but the cops didn’t give a damn and kept hounding Tony to give
up his partners.
The newspaper accounts of the robbery claimed the police believed the bank was robbed by a five-man team. Two of them caused a distraction on the street, while the other three entered the bank dressed like Santa Claus, as the robbery took place only days before Christmas.
Tony had been framed, but he had no clue who would have done it. The crowd he ran with were drug merchants, not bank robbers. Luis told Tony that he would look into it and keep searching.
If he ever found out who framed his brother, he would kill them. It was as simple as that.
Sara watched the last car leave Seagate’s property and checked the time on her dashboard.
She would be running late for her dinner with Tanner, so she sent off a text.
When he texted her back saying that he was running late as well, she wondered what he was doing, but when he mentioned that he would be meeting a man named Duke later, Sara knew that something big was up.
Duke was a specialist in procurement. The man had contacts in many fields of interest and social strata. Tanner had met Duke through Sara, but only used the man’s services when he faced a serious situation.
Worry creased her brow only for an instant. Whatever it was, Tanner would handle it.
After considering the pluses and minuses, Sara decided to be bold and just drive up to Ian Seagate’s house. She was all but certain that no one was still there, and even if there were someone around, she could just claim to have the wrong address.
The house was larger than it looked online, while also appearing in need of either a total renovation or a wrecking ball. The doors were all locked, which was to be expected, but a rear door of the old barn wasn’t. Inside the barn was where Sara found items of interest.
There was a panel van inside, and inside that three bicycles, three backpacks, and three bright orange bike helmets. After picking up one of the helmets, Sara saw that the orange covering would peel off easily, revealing the white color beneath it.
She pondered the significance of such camouflage as she placed the helmet back and closed the van. It was getting dark, and the unlit barn was growing deep shadows.
Manhattan Hit Man (A Tanner Novel Book 18) Page 9