The Big Scam

by Paul Lindsay

  “What point is that?” Parisi asked.

  “Once the Bureau commits manpower and money, they’re not going to look kindly on Manny having a change of heart. Providing false information to the government is five years per count. But as long as you never admit lying to them, they would have a hard time proving it. So once you’re in, you’ve got to stay in.”

  “I understand.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Did Mike tell you that you have become a snitch?”

  “You mean pretend to become a snitch.”

  “You can’t pretend. There’s going to be too many people staring into your eyes, trying to find the real Manny Baldovino. The problem is you were so standup when you were arrested, and now all of a sudden, you’re flipping over. You’re going to have a hell of a time convincing these people. There are some you’re never going to convince, and those are the ones who you can’t let rattle you. But as long as you convince the majority of them, or at least the bosses, this’ll work. So you can’t pretend. You have to believe you’re becoming an informant. Your people know you’re not, so you don’t have to worry about it. Get yourself into this. Believe me, I worked undercover, and that’s the difference between a successful operation and a bust-out. My trouble was I believed a little too much that I was a stockbroker. Anyway, do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, I got it. I’m a lousy, stinking rat, and, in a way, I kind of like it.”

  “That’s it exactly. And why are you rolling over?”

  “I don’t want to go to prison. Not for something as embarrassing as selling handicapped plates.”

  “And what are they going to ask you about?”

  “What?”

  “Something that you’re going to turn down because what you’re giving them doesn’t require testimony?”

  “No, what?”

  “The Witness Protection Program.”

  “Oh yeah, the Witness Protection Program.”

  Egan looked over at Parisi. “Maybe we should be writing some of this down.”

  “It’ll be all right. Sometimes it takes a while for things to register in Manny’s brain, but once they do, they stay there.”

  “No, no, I got it,” Manny insisted. “The Witness Protection Program.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt—for now.”

  “Don’t worry,” Parisi said. “I’ll keep going over it with him to make sure.”

  “Just remember, when he walks into that FBI office, he’s only going to get one shot, so he has to be completely on. Understood?” Both men nodded. “Okay, let’s go over your story. How is it that you know about this burial site?”

  “Back when I was on Nino Leone’s crew, I drove out with my father and him once to get rid of a body. I was in a second car to cause problems if someone tried to pull them over. When we got to Phoenicia, he had me wait at the old train station while he and Nino took the body across the creek. They were gone about an hour. Nino and I were out drinking later and he told me that he had been there a number of times. On business. He always did talk too much. And he drank too much. That’s why he’s no longer with us.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Liver cancer.”

  “And your father’s passed, I assume. Otherwise you wouldn’t be giving him up.”

  “Five years ago, a heart attack.”

  “That’s a good story, nice and neat, easy to remember. The only reason you were trusted was because you were his son. And there’s nobody left who can refute it. And you’re not being disrespectful to your father’s memory because this is a scam, and it’ll never see the light of day.”

  “Actually, from what I’ve been told about Manny’s father, he would be pleased that he’s part of this,” Parisi said.

  Baldovino said, “Screwing the FBI? Who wouldn’t be?” Then remembering who Egan was, said, “I mean…sorry.”

  “Goddamnit, Manny, you can’t let your concentration drift off like that,” Egan said. “But now that you got me aggravated, it’s a good time to bring up something else. You do understand that when this information doesn’t work out, and you don’t give them anything else, they might bust your balls a little harder at sentencing?”

  “What the fuck you telling him that for!” Parisi asked.

  “Because, if by some miracle all this does work out, I don’t want him all of a sudden realizing, Hey, I’m in the joint, and everybody’s out there spending what amounts to my inheritance. I’m getting a little lonely, maybe I should get myself some company.”

  “It sounds like you’ve thought this through a little farther than we have.”

  “Well, we’d better all start thinking ahead, otherwise the only discussion we’ll be having is who gets the top bunk in the cell.”

  Manny said, “It’s okay, Mike. The lawyer says for a first offense I might catch three years. It’s federal, probably minimum security. And I’ll have all that bread when I come out. I know you’ll take care of it for me. Probably even get me some interest. I think my father would be pleased with me taking the weight on this.”

  Parisi said, “How sure are you that your people will go to this kind of trouble?”

  “I told you before, as soon as they hear ‘Mafia graveyard,’ there won’t be an ounce of common sense left between them. All they’ll be thinking about will be headlines and who’s going to play them in the movie. This is literally a license for us to steal. Trust me. If you told them it was under Hoover Dam, they’d blow it up for you.”

  “How about when they take these readings and the box shows up on their charts. Won’t they want to dig it up?”

  “I spent a lot of time thinking about what could go wrong, and I checked some old cases. They’ve never tried anything on this scale. Seismic imaging is expensive. I can’t even guess how much, probably tens of thousands of dollars a day. So time is money and anything that isn’t a body, they won’t waste time on. They’ll actually be trying to find a way to eliminate any distractions. That’s where I come in. I’ll suggest they use a cadaver dog. Do you know anything about them?”

  “No,” Parisi answered for both of them.

  “They sniff out buried bodies. I’ll simply explain to my bosses that a dog will keep us from doing a lot of unnecessary digging. See, if the FBI finds a grave, they can’t just bring in a backhoe and tear it open. Each grave becomes a crime scene and has to be excavated very carefully so evidence isn’t destroyed. It takes forever to find out what’s buried there. Each grave would take days, if it even is a grave. But these dogs hit on the scent of decaying flesh, even if it’s years old. So when they spot the box on the charts, I’ll march the dog over to it, and it won’t hit because there’s nothing dead involved. Then the search will move on. I’ll mark the spot and as soon as it’s clear, I’ll dig it up.”

  “We’ll dig it up,” Parisi said.

  “We’ll dig it up.” Egan wasn’t sure we was meant to include him, but since he would be the one to mark it, he would do it in a way that only he could find it.

  “What’s to prevent them from saying forget the seismic stuff and just use the dog?”

  “I looked at a map of the area. Manny’s going to tell them they were gone an hour. That would translate into a large area, maybe as much as ten square miles. Don’t forget, as the in-house expert on seismic imaging and cadaver dogs, I’ll be able to influence the size of the area that needs to be searched. Then even if they have a half dozen dogs, I’ll tell them it’s too large to search. Plus, dead animals can distract these dogs, and there’ll be plenty in that terrain. Once they lock on to one, they’re done for the day. I’ll also tell them that it could take one dog months to find a body—if it didn’t miss it altogether. Then the cost of the imaging will be justifiable because of the savings of having a dozen agents up there working and living in a hotel for months. Besides, they’ll love the idea of using cutting-edge technology to solve a crime, especially against the mob. It’ll be all over the newspapers, and th
ey’ll be doing television shows for years to come about how inventive they are. I’ve seen this before. They get into a frenzy, which causes extreme tunnel vision. They won’t let anything get in their way. It’ll be great PR, something the Bureau can’t buy these days.”

  “When you explain it, it sounds reasonable,” Parisi said.

  “This is just money to you guys; for me, it’s my freedom and my family’s future. In the meantime I’ve been learning all I can about seismic imaging, who can do it and how. That way when I suggest it, they’ll rely on me for technical advice.”

  “And that puts you in the middle of the decision making. Pretty smart,” Parisi said.

  “Hopefully, but, as I’m sure you know, when running a scam, you can’t think of everything. That’s why you need a good bullshitter as a front man. Right, Manny?” Baldovino smiled with some pride. “Any questions?” They shook their heads. “Okay, then I believe you have some money for me.”

  Parisi went over to a dresser drawer. He took out an inexpensive plastic briefcase; its sides bulged slightly. Egan took it from him and peeked inside. “Okay, Manny. Here’s how you make sure this is handled by my squad.”

  After explaining the case-assignment process to him, Egan reemphasized how critical Manny’s role was to the success of the plan. Parisi was pleased how focused Manny had become, completely concentrating on each phase of the instruction.

  “What is it they’ll offer you but you’ll turn down, Manny?” Egan asked.

  “The Witness Protection Program.”

  For the next hour and a half, the three men discussed every detail and contingency they could think of. Once he was satisfied, Egan took the briefcase and left. He didn’t notice the black Camaro parked across the street in the restaurant lot. As he put the briefcase in the trunk, the agent fired away with his thirty-five-millimeter camera. Nobody on the surveillance team had been told that their target was an agent, only that it was organized crime and very hush-hush.

  Egan started his car, and the agent radioed the second team that had been following Parisi for the last four hours. “Our boy’s firing up his chopper. Looks like we’re about to part company.”

  “Yeah, ours is coming out, too.” The second agent snapped pictures of Parisi and Baldovino emerging from room 218. “Interesting. Our boy carries in the briefcase and yours carries it out. You don’t suppose there’s anything illegal in it, do you?”

  “I’m guessing illegal tender.”

  As Crowe sat down, Vanko asked, “How’d your interview with the inspector go?”

  “It must have gone all right, he’s been around here a lot less.”

  “You do have a knack for cutting through people’s BS.”

  “Speaking of which.”

  “Okay, I need a favor.”

  “I guess I owe you one.”

  “Maria Vargas.”

  “The runaway?” Vanko nodded. “I was wondering if we were going to get around to that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It’s not like this squad is authorized to conduct homicide investigations. We know you’re sticking your neck out to help her, and we don’t mind being part of that. But when you didn’t pursue the Maria Vargas lead, I thought maybe you were protecting Sheila’s feelings. No disrespect, Nick, but it looked like you were trying to keep from proving her wrong.”

  “I don’t want to prove her wrong, at least not in front of everybody.”

  “Does that mean you don’t think there’s a serial killer?”

  “I really don’t know. Sheila’s lived with this a lot longer than we have. It looks like she’s lost her objectivity, but who knows.”

  “What about your objectivity?”

  “It’s suspect, that’s why I’m asking you to chase this down.”

  “Then I’ll take care of it.”

  The squad secretary buzzed Vanko. “I’ve got downtown on hold. They have somebody on the line who says he has important organized crime information and won’t talk to anyone but the supervisor of the Manny Baldovino case.”

  Crowe nodded to Vanko and left. “Okay, have them transfer it over.”

  Vanko heard the line click in. “Hello, this is Nick Vanko. Can I help you?” He looked at the display on his phone but it read Not Registered.

  “Yeah, are you the boss of the guys who arrested Manny Baldovino?”

  “That case is on my squad, yes. Could I have your name, please.”

  There was a slight hesitation. “This is Manny Baldovino.”

  “Well…hello, Manny. I’d ask you how you are, but if you’re calling me, it sounds like things could be better.”

  “That’s right, they could be.”

  “They said you had some information.”

  “That’s right, and it’s big.”

  “Big, huh? I guess that means you’re looking for some type of accommodation before you tell me what it is.” Baldovino’s sarcastic laugh was slightly nervous. “How come you’re not having your lawyer broker this?”

  “Do you know who my lawyer is?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s just say he represents a lot of organized crime people. Too many organized crime people, if you know what I mean.”

  “So you think his interests might be conflicted.”

  “If you mean me winding up dead, yeah, conflicted.”

  “So I guess we need to get together and see if there’s anything we can do to make each other’s lives a little easier.”

  “I can tell you what I want right now. I want a walk.”

  “Sounds like you think you’ve got something substantial to offer.”

  “This is going to make you a superstar.”

  Vanko laughed. “No offense, Manny, but I’ve heard that before.”

  A little unsure of himself now, Baldovino said, “You’ll see.”

  “Fair enough.” Experience had taught Vanko that whatever slight shift in the wind had summoned Baldovino’s cooperation could just as easily reverse itself without warning. “Then we need to get together. Tonight.”

  “It can’t be in Brooklyn.”

  “How about Manhattan?”

  “Okay, but no restaurants. These people are always going over there to eat.”

  “There’s a small hotel on East Fifty-first. The Chase. Be at the bar by eight and have a drink. A woman will come and get you. I’ll be upstairs.” When he didn’t say anything, Vanko said, “Is that all right?”

  “Yeah, I was just writing it down.”

  “Good. I don’t suppose you care to give me a number where I can reach you?”

  “And they say you Feds don’t have a sense of humor.”

  “I’ll see you tonight, Manny.”

  Baldovino hung up and looked at Parisi. “Did I sound too nervous?”

  “I thought you played it just about right.”

  “He wants to meet tonight.”

  “That’s a good sign. It means he’s hot for it.”

  “It’s just that I thought I’d have a little more time to prepare for it. You know, mentally.”

  “Manny, you’ve got good instincts. Just let them take over. You have a tendency to tie yourself up in a knot by overthinking situations.”

  Baldovino smiled. “The fuck, Mike.”

  “The fuck, Manny.”

  Vanko leaned out his door. “Sheila, can I see you a minute?”

  She swallowed the last of her coffee and came in. “What’s up?” she asked as she sat down in a chair across from him.

  “Are you doing anything tonight?” A small flicker of expectation flashed across her face, and he realized that she thought he was asking her out. He looked away embarrassed. The fear of rejection was keeping them apart, and he was about to give her one more reason to think that was not going to change any time soon. “Sorry. I need you to work tonight. If you’re available.”

  A shrewd smile pulled up the corner of her eyes. “Are you sorry because you’re asking me to work, or are you sorry about something else?” />
  Purposely ignoring her gaze, he supplied the details of the call from Baldovino. “We have to be careful how we do this. The hotel isn’t the kind that would attract any of his friends, but you never know. If you pick him up in the bar, that would cover him in case someone is around. Any problem with that?”

  “Are you kidding? Play a whore? To a mob guy?” she asked in that lilting, agile voice. “You dream about these things in training school, but…”

  “It’s really nice having someone on the squad with your enthusiasm. Never any complaints, never any sarcasm.”

  “I thought these guys didn’t like women around when they’re conducting business.”

  “When I told him a woman would meet him in the bar, he didn’t object.”

  “Maybe he thinks there’re more benefits to witness protection than a new identity.”

  Vanko laughed. “How about I pick you up at seven.”

  “How about you come by at six and we’ll have something to eat. I owe you a dinner.”

  Vanko pointed at his in box, which teetered with Bureau mail. He felt some relief and wondered if he wasn’t using it as another delaying tactic. The two of them seemed to have that effect on each other. “I’ve got all this to get through, and I still have to make more arrangements for tonight. Some other time—soon.”

  Soon was good, she supposed. The word seemed declaratory, but it was hardly escape-proof. She wondered if she would ever stop trying to uncover the hidden labyrinth within every syllable. Maybe that’s what she really wanted—rest from the endless search for motive. She looked at Vanko’s face and, as always, he held it out for examination, as if he were letting it explain his reluctance. His disfigurement provided her with a good deal of safety. Without it, she doubted that she would have remained optimistic. “Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing. I order a mean pizza.”

  25

  THE BAR AT THE CHASE HOTEL WAS NOT TO MANNY Baldovino’s liking. The décor was Danish Modern. The frail blond furnishings seemed too minimalist, almost surreal, at least compared to the places he hung out. The dozen or so patrons, European he guessed, looked equally misplaced. Thin men with pointed, graying goatees or sharply receding hairlines and women too skinny in the upper body, their hair severely drawn back into knotted puzzles.