“Understood.”
Hustling back to the SUV, Glover reached inside the car, pulled out a remote device, then looked at Boff. “You ready, Frank?” he asked.
“Not really. But fire the thing.”
“Bombs away!” Glover pressed the device’s button.
The Pan Disrupter’s barrel discharged a shot. Boff counted fifteen seconds, then breathed a sigh of relief.
“If it didn’t blow up,” he said, “that means it’s disabled, right?”
“Most likely,” Quintana replied. “Jake’s going back to your car. He’s gonna use our bomb detector now. If it says the thing’s disarmed, he’ll remove it.”
As Glover walked toward the Malibu, Boff reached into a pants pocket, pulled out a thick wad of twenties, and handed them to Quintana. “If that’s not enough, tell me. I’ll get more.”
Quintana pocketed the money without counting it. “You’re a friend of Davie’s,” he said. “Whatever’s there will be enough. I owe my life to that guy.”
“It’s disabled!” Glover shouted at them. “I’m gonna remove it now.”
As Glover worked, Boff said to Quintana, “You guys like doing this shit?”
Quintana grinned. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Hey, why do people jump out of airplanes? It’s the rush. And it sure beats working in an office.”
While Boff talked to Quintana, Glover removed the bomb, then walked back to the SUV with the Pan Disrupter and the disarmed IED, which he held out to Boff. “You wanna keep this as a souvenir?” he said.
Boff held his hands up and backed up. “Keep that thing away from me.”
Glover laughed. “I was just messing with you,” he said. “This thing still has to be blown up.”
“In a remote place,” Quintana added.
At that, Glover walked to the rear of the SUV, grabbed a large metal container from the back, put the IED inside it, then closed the lid.
“Jake,” Boff said, “can you tell me off the top of your head what that bomb was made of?”
The cop took a moment before replying. “Without studying it closer,” he said, “I’d guess it’s nitrogen-based. The parts appear to be very common. You can buy ’em on the Internet or at a lot of stores.”
Same as the one that blew up Mantilla, Boff thought. No signature. But that fact alone actually gave it a signature. Undoubtedly the person who’d wired Mantilla’s car to blow up was also responsible for this bomb.
After the moonlighting bomb squad guys left, Boff walked back to his car. Even though he knew the bomb was gone, he used his detector. Just in case there was a second one, he told himself. It stayed green. He did it twice more just to further reassure himself. When he stepped into the car again, he held his breath. He turned the key. No explosion.
What a glorious day.
Chapter 46
Still feeling shaken, Boff picked up a six-pack of Bud Light before he drove to Wright’s shop. The information broker was in his usual spot in front of his biggest computer when Boff walked in. Without turning around, Wright said, “You’re late.”
“Sorry. I had to wait while two bomb squad guys removed an IED from under my car.”
Wright swiveled his chair around. “Of all the excuses you’ve ever used for being late,” he said, “that’s gotta be the lamest.” He pointed to the six-pack Boff was holding. “What’s the beer for? We celebrating something?”
“Yeah. The fact that I’m still alive.”
“You’re serious about the bomb?”
Boff nodded. “Even a bullshit artist like me wouldn’t make up something like that.”
The information broker let out a whistle. “Wow! What did you do when you discovered the bomb—besides crap your pants and run like hell?”
“I put out an SOS to my wife’s cousin in Vegas. He used to be on the NYPD bomb squad. He found two former colleagues on the bomb squad for me. They came out, disabled the thing, and removed it.”
Boff tossed Wright a can and grabbed one for himself. Before Wright could even pop the lid, Boff had guzzled half the beer down.
“Whoa,” said Wright. “Frank, you must’ve been nervous. That’s the fastest I ever saw you drink a beer.”
Boff finished off the rest of the can in one long swig, then crushed it and tossed it onto Wright’s sofa. “You’d be nervous, too, Billy, if you forgot to use your bomb detector and almost turned the key. Thank God I decided to get out of the car and use the device. Or else—”
“Or else you’d be really, really, dead. Man, that would’ve sucked. Because you haven’t paid for my services yet.”
“Thanks for the compassion, pal.”
Wright popped his can, took a long drink, then set the can on his computer table. “So who do you make for putting this little present under your car?”
“The same people that blew up Mantilla. When I find ’em, I’m going to make sure they reimburse me for the grand I gave the two cops.”
At that, Wright flashed a grin. “Among other forms of payment, I’m sure.”
Ignoring that, Boff said, “So where’s the dossier on Alicia?”
Wright picked up a folder near his computer and handed it over. As Boff began leafing through it, he stopped to read two or three pages, then smiled and closed the folder.
“This should do the trick, Billy. Good job.”
“What are you planning on doing with it?”
“I’m going to FedEx it to Alicia’s father tomorrow. Once he reads it, I have a hunch Alicia’s trust fund will disappear as quickly as I would’ve if that bomb had gone off. Meanwhile, I have some other news that could be as explosive as what was under my car.”
As Boff told him about Emilio’s affair with Alicia, Wright shrugged.
“Just because Emilio’s diddling her, it doesn’t mean he’s involved in the service.”
“Obviously I’m still hoping he isn’t.”
“Maybe you should start wearing Kevlar, Frank. I hear bullets can kill you just a dead as bombs.”
Boff spread his hands. “If your chemtrails are going to wipe me out, anyway, why worry about a mere bullet?”
Wright turned back to his computer.
***
In the morning, Boff used FedEx Priority Overnight to mail Alicia’s dossier to the bank her father owned in Miami. Then, after calling Wallachi with a new assignment, he drove to the gym, waited until Cullen and Bellucci went on a break, and waved them over.
“Somebody put a bomb under my car,” he announced in a calm voice.
“Really?” Cullen said. “Wow! It’s a good thing you had your detector.”
“How’d you get rid of the thing?” Bellucci asked.
“I had some bomb squad friends take care of it.”
“So,” Cullen said, “do you think me and Mikey are at risk?”
“I doubt it. But just in case, do you still have the bomb detector I gave you in Las Vegas?”
“It’s packed away somewhere in my closet.”
“Well, dig it out and get some new batteries.”
“Why? I don’t have a car anymore.”
“They could plant a bomb in your apartment. You wouldn’t want to come home, plop on the couch, and wind up sitting in your upstairs neighbor’s living room watching the six o’clock news. Or up in heaven watching their news about a boxer who didn’t use his equipment. Whenever you’ve been out, as soon as you get home, turn the detector on and walk from room to room with it. Also, if you receive a package in the mail without a return address or with an address you don’t recognize, use the detector on that, too. Okay, guys, now I’m off to run a few errands.”
After Boff left the gym, Bellucci looked at Cullen. “You still want to be an investigator?”
“Sure. Why not? My chances of dying in the ring are probably greater than getting blown up.”
“What do you think Boff’ll do to the person that planted the bomb?” Bellucci asked.
“Dunno. What I do know is I
wouldn’t want to be Alicia or Emilio if they own the escort service. First they trash his apartment and hurt his son. Now they try to blow him up. I imagine he’s pretty pissed. This could get really ugly.”
Bellucci made a face. “Well, if it was Emilio, and Boff does mess with him…now that could get really ugly. For Boff.”
Cullen shook his head. “Only if Emilio’s father finds out. And Boff’s too smart to let that happen.”
At which point McAlary shouted over at them. “Cut out the gossiping. Get your butts back to work!”
Chapter 47
Later that afternoon, after Dina called Cullen and told him her friend Hazuki was willing to work for Boff as a seducer, Cullen arranged to meet the two women at the Brooklyn Museum. When he and Boff arrived, Dina was already sitting in the pavilion with a stunning Japanese woman who had long, black hair, dark eyes, full lips, and a skirt short enough to show off her perfect legs.
“Mr. Boff,” Dina said, “this is Hazuki.”
Hazuki stood up and extended her hand. “Very pleased to meet you.”
Dina said, “I’ll leave you guys alone. I’m going to the museum shop. You wanna come, Danny?”
“I’d really like too, but I think I should stay here.”
“I understand. Next time.”
After she was gone, Hazuki cut right to the chase. “Mr. Boff, let’s talk about the money before we begin. Dina told me you’d pay me four hundred a day with a possible one thousand dollar bonus. I will want it all in cash. Today, I would like four hundred as a retainer. If you don’t have the cash on you, I’ll be happy to wait while you go to an ATM.”
Boff smiled. The woman was all business. Having anticipated that she would want a retainer, he pulled a roll of twenties out of his pocket and handed it to her. Hazuki counted it as rapidly as a bank teller, then recounted it again before putting it in her purse.
“Do you have a picture of the target?” she asked.
Boff slid a photo that Manny had taken out of a manila envelope. It showed Emilio and Alicia getting out of the Town Car. Hazuki took her time studying it before speaking.
“Tell me everything you know about this man,” she said. “Starting with his name and where he works.”
“His name is Emilio Benvenuti. And I want you to know right up front that he’s the son of a powerful mobster, although he’s not involved with the family business. If you want to back out because of that, I would understand.”
Hazuki looked taken aback. “Back out? In Japan, I once seduced a Yakuza boss. You know what Yakuza is, right?”
Boff nodded. “Japanese mafia.”
“So I can handle the son of an American mobster. No problem for Hazuki. Tell me what else I should know about the target. And please confine yourself to the essentials.”
While Boff was giving her the skinny on Emilio, he noted she had yet to show any emotion or charm. He wondered if she had the personality to get the job done. Then again, he told himself, looks like hers go a long way with men, most of whom judge women by their faces and bodies. Not their personalities.
When he was finished, Hazuki pointed at Alicia in the photo. “This woman is his girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
She studied the photo for another minute. “She’s very beautiful. Makes it harder for me. But my success rate in Japan was very high. I won’t disappoint you. You get what you pay for. Guaranteed by Hazuki.”
“Or my money back?”
Hazuki shook her head. “No. I keep the money either way. Sort of like you do in your line of work. If your client is not acquitted, you still get paid. Right?”
Boff smiled. “Correct. Although I might add that my success rate is over seventy percent.”
“Mine in Japan was higher.” She handed the photo back.
“You can keep it if you want,” Boff said.
Hazuki shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t have a picture of him. If he found out I did, it would scare him off. Everything in a proper seduction must be a surprise.”
“You haven’t asked me why I want you to seduce him.”
“Not Hazuki’s business. I do the job. You pay me. Then it’s over. I assume you have surveillance people.”
“Yes.”
“When do you want me to make initial contact?”
“I imagine tonight is too soon.”
“Yes. But if you add an extra hundred to my next payment, I’ll give it a try. Have your investigating team find out what kind of places he goes to.”
“I can tell you right now where he usually hangs out. A nightclub called Devil’s Own.”
“I have been there. I’ll go tonight. If he doesn’t show, I’ll go the next night and the next until he shows. At four hundred a day, you should hope he comes tonight. Although it wouldn’t matter to me if he didn’t.” Hazuki smiled for the first time. It transformed her whole face. She looked radiant.
“What if I called him,” Boff said, “and asked him to meet me at the club?”
She shook her head. “No. Do not do that, please. He must go there on his own in order for it to look like a chance meeting.”
This gal’s sharp, Boff thought. With her looks and her brains, Emilio will be no match.
Hazuki turned when she saw Dina coming back carrying a brown bag with a couple of rolled-up prints sticking out of it. “We’re almost done, Dina” Hazuki said. She turned to Boff. “Besides Devil’s Own, have your team find out if he has a favorite restaurant or a coffee bar. I will also need a hidden camera I can keep with me.”
“Cigarette pack all right?” Boff said.
Hazuki glanced at Dina and smiled again.
“I see you did your homework, Mr. Boff. Good. I’m used to working only with the highest professionals.”
After shaking his hand again, Hazuki took off with Dina. He glanced down at his hand just to make sure it was still there. Then he laughed. Good luck, Emilio. Hurricane Hazuki is about to hit the shore.
Chapter 48
Like most streets in the city, West 10th had alternate-side parking. As soon as they hear the street cleaning truck rumbling down the street, car owners who are home rush out of their buildings, double-park across the street, and wait for the street sweeper to pass so they can join the mad scramble for a parking space. Emilio’s block was scheduled for a four o’clock sweeping. Boff told Wallachi to join the line of double-parkers in Emilio’s block.
At three-fifteen, Boff left his apartment, hailed a cab, and reached Wallachi with time to spare. Manny had exchanged his spiffy suit for designer jeans and a black T-shirt with Hilfiger in bold vertical lettering down the left side.
“Where’s your bodyguard?” Wallachi asked.
“Danny has a workout from four-thirty to seven.”
After the sweeper had passed Emilio’s building, Wallachi cut off another car and got a prime spot only six doors away. The driver he had cut off pounded on his horn, then grabbed another space. After he parked, he got out of his car and headed for Wallachi’s Crown Vic. He was a short man in his fifties, his face contorted with road rage. When Wallachi, who was six-foot three and built like a tight end, stepped out of his car, the other driver stopped dead in his tracks.
The investigator flashed a wide smile. “Nice day, isn’t it, friend?” he said mildly.
Muttering “asshole” under his breath, the driver turned and walked away. As Wallachi climbed back into his Crown Vic, he looked back at Manny. “You wanna make a coffee run?”
“Not really, but I’ll do it.”
After receiving a twenty, the crack op stepped out of the car and headed for 6th Avenue.
“Pete,” Boff said, “did you tell Manny to dress down today?”
“Hell, no. If I did, he wouldn’t be a walking advertisement for Tommy Hilfiger.”
Fifteen minutes later Manny returned with three coffees and a brown bag filled with bagels.
“There was a bagel shop nearby,” he said.
Tommy Hilfiger handed Boff a poppy seed bagel, a tub
of cream cheese, and a knife, then gave his boss a bagel with salt. After Boff loaded up his bagel with cream cheese, he handed the tub and the knife back to the crack op. To Boff’s surprise, Manny pulled a plain bagel out of the bag and slathered it with cream cheese.
“Not worried about you shirt and pants today?” Boff asked.
“More concerned about my stomach. I’m starving.”
They watched a taxi drop Emilio off at six-thirty. An hour and a half later, dressed casually, Emilio popped back out and hailed a cab. Wallachi followed the taxi to a restaurant called the Cafeteria on 7th Avenue near 17th Street in Chelsea. But the place didn’t look like any cafeteria Boff or Wallachi had ever been in. There were outdoor cafe tables with bright green awnings above them and a cloth fence along the sidewalk. The restaurant’s large, sliding garage doors were open to join inside and outside dining.
Emilio left the cab and walked into the restaurant through the front door.
“Manny,” Wallachi said, “you got your BlackBerry?”
“Always do.”
“Put your thumbs to work and find the menu for this so-called cafeteria.”
It took Manny a couple minutes. “Got it,” he said.
“What’s the range of prices for dinner entrees?”
“Uh, the cheapest is sixteen bucks. The highest is twenty-five.”
“What do you get for sixteen?”
Manny looked at his screen again. “Only one item. Meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans, and oven-roasted tomato relish, whatever the hell that is. For twenty-five, you can get either grilled lamb chops or wild striped bass. With shaved artichokes, radicchio, and Reggiano Parmesan lemon truffle vinaigrette.” Manny looked up. “Shaved artichokes? I didn’t know artichokes shaved.”
“This’s some cafeteria,” Wallachi said, ignoring the attempt at a joke.
“Why are you interested in the menu?” Manny asked.
“What else do I have to do while I wait for this paisan to stuff his face?”
“Oh, shit,” Boff suddenly said. He pointed to a passenger getting out of a taxi. It was Alicia.
The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) Page 23