Ice Cream Man

by Charles Puccia

“No, not the markets. Our products sell well. Our stocks, they move up. I will tell you the error. It’s that folle—what’s the word?—yes, screwball. Linda Lords. Her numbers, they do not arrive to her prediction.” JJ had slipped into faltering Franglais.

  “JJ, I told you this months ago. I knew Linda’s model was wrong. And for my honesty, I was fired on a trumped-up sexual harassment charge.” Dan sounded like a squawking black-crowned heron.

  “Oui, mon ami, but I can’t figure out the model. I want to send you data for your opinion. Okay?”

  It was not okay. Dan sighed. “I can’t. It could be construed as corporate espionage, which carries a big fine and prison. It violates my confidentiality agreement. I’d lose my compensation, and that’s money I need for my start-up consulting business.”

  The friends commiserated over their predicaments. JJ apologized for putting Dan in a terrible position. Dan was sorry, too; he wanted to help JJ. And help himself, too: this was an opportunity for payback. Dan promised JJ he’d think about it and call next week.

  ****

  The following morning an overnight air package arrived from Paris, with Jean-Jacques Gagnon’s signature. The customs declaration listed a data CD and handwritten notes.

  Dan twirled the package over lunch, his nearly empty glass of white wine pushed aside. Ginny listened to his excuse for not telling her earlier about his conversation with JJ. She sat back, crossing her legs. Dan poured wine.

  “I didn’t know he’d send me this.”

  The issues Dan had raised to JJ came up. The risk, the criminal implications, the legal fees, the loss of income. Ginny also pointed out that JJ faced the same risks. They’d both be unemployable in the financial services sector.

  “This is a lose-lose situation,” she said.

  “But I feel like I should help. I know it’s crazy.”

  “Help? Or get revenge? You should just destroy that now, Dan. It’s a felony just to have it here.” Ginny stood to leave.

  “Can I think about it? You too, please. I’ll call JJ tomorrow, but can you give me that?”

  Ginny turned. When she spoke, her voice was clipped. “Fine. But without a way around the corporate confidentiality clause, you tell JJ no.”

  ****

  Ginny started that night to examine Dan’s confidentiality agreement.

  “Nothing. Airtight. Myron sewed it up so even water wouldn’t leak.”

  “Myron’s good, I’ll give him that,” Dan said.

  “You’re without a pot to piss in. Ruination with a capital R.”

  “That doesn’t invalidate my analysis.”

  Ginny nodded. Despite their earlier agreement, Dan had looked at the data CD. Ginny had too—she was just as curious as Dan.

  Dan continued. “Linda skims the gross income with a stochastic variability algorithm. And DV&N headquarters is isolated, since all data must pass through Bill—which was his motive to back her over me. That’s their fail-safe. All operational data passes through Bill. Linda’s called it an espionage firewall, but in reality it’s there to block whistle-blowers like JJ. If anyone circumvents the protocol, her hierarchical plan will result in immediate dismissal. What a sham.”

  Dan walked around, scratching his cheek and rubbing his forearm. He settled down across from Ginny. “What if I covertly inform Maria—maybe through Blanca? It’s not like revealing something to an outside competitor, and I’d be helping DV&N.”

  Ginny shook her head. “And that would show you had inside data, which they’d learn came from JJ. Even if Gary overlooked your indiscretion, Bill would certainly move against JJ.”

  “But how would they know?”

  “From you. Bill and Myron would threaten you with a suit unless you revealed your source.”

  “Damn. The game’s rigged.”

  A crease formed on Ginny’s brow. “That’s it. Game theory. Remember the Prisoner’s Dilemma lecture by Professor Hillborne?”

  “Of course. Hillborne was our challenge contest.”

  “Wipe the smirk off your face. Think hard. Remember mamihlapinatapai?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “Ah, so smartass doesn’t remember everything. Mamihlapinatapai is the term used to describe the Tierra del Fuego indigenous people’s situation when two people wish the other would offer them a prize—something valuable they both desire. Neither party will ask the other, yet each is unwilling to offer unless asked. The ingenuity comes from obtaining the desired gift without asking.”

  “Weird… but so what?”

  “Okay. Professor Hillborne linked the classic game-theory Prisoner’s Dilemma with mamihlapinatapai. He explained the first like this. Two criminals, say Harry and George, are isolated from each other upon arrest. The cops have insufficient evidence to convict them of a major crime, only a minor one. If both remain silent, they’ll receive minimal sentences for the minor crime—let’s say, one year. However, if George testifies against Harry, who remains silent, than Harry receives the maximum three years for the major crime and George’s plea bargain sets him free. The reverse is true if Harry testifies and George keeps quiet. But if both testify against the other, then both are convicted, and each gets two years.”

  Ginny paused and waited for Dan.

  “I know the problem,” he said. “George and Harry both serve one year if neither testifies. Or George gets zero and Harry gets three if only George testifies. And if both testify they each receive two years. Their combined sentence will be either two, three, or four years. What’s your point: they should have attended Harvard?”

  “Very funny. These are criminals, not academics. They’re interested in what’s good for them individually, not the team total. Each knows the other is just as selfish. They expect the other will testify, so each feels they must testify or face the maximum term. DAs bank on this lack of trust. Do you know the only time this doesn’t work?”

  Dan shrugged.

  “With the Mafia. Can you guess why?”

  A schoolboy grin crossed Dan’s face. “Because any prisoner that testifies has a short-lived freedom—literally. Your hypothetical George would have to enter witness protection.”

  Ginny pointed her finger like a gun at Dan. “Bingo. Now move on. We can assume Bill and Linda are not Mafioso. No omertà.” Ginny used her best Italian accent.

  Dan fidgeted. “I’m not with you.”

  “Go back to mamihlapinatapai. That’s what the syndicated crime bosses impose. No one asks, but everyone offers to keep quiet. Their gift is silence.”

  Dan groaned. He didn’t follow.

  “Suppose Linda and Bill want the other to offer something without asking.”

  “And what would that something be?”

  “A variation of the Mafia omertà. Suppose one testifies against the other, and the other does not. It forces a Prisoner’s Dilemma solution.”

  “I’m lost.”

  “Pay attention. Let’s try this. Linda wants Bill to give her permission to testify against him while he keeps quiet. Bill’s gift is permission for Linda to testify.”

  “Still lost. What’s the testimony? Rigging the proposal? Embezzlement? They haven’t been charged with either.”

  “No, it has to be something new. Something illegal like heroin possession.”

  “Oh great. And how do we get them on drug possession?”

  “That’s only an example.” Ginny paused. “You know, it might actually be a good one though. I’ll need time to think.” Ginny’s eyes turned to the ceiling. “Okay, let’s suppose they have heroin… and Linda wants Bill’s permission to testify that the drugs are his. That’s the mamihlapinatapai part and rigs the Prisoner’s Dilemma. Bill agrees to not testify… this is going to require more thought.”

  Dan stood up and rolled his eyes.

  “Sit down. I’m trying to help.”

  Ginny walked Dan through the scenario. Bill agrees because he’d get his payoff on release from prison. With Bill away, JJ could follow protocol to inform Bill
’s replacement, who would learn of Linda’s embezzlement, hence blowing apart the scheme.

  But the setup didn’t exactly fit the Prisoner’s Dilemma rules. Would Bill accept fifteen years, out in seven, no matter how much Linda offered? The mamihlapinatapai might not work.

  Dan’s jaw fell to his chest. “Pretty big caveats, don’t you think? And I don’t see the drug angle working.”

  Ginny stood behind Dan, rubbing his neck. “We’ll improvise. I’m liking this more and more. With a little luck, it’ll work.”

  “Luck?” Dan shook Ginny’s hands off his neck. “Risk everything on luck? Look at my track record.”

  Ginny walked to the kitchen, made herself an herbal tea, and started jotting down notes. Moments later she ran to the dining room, startling Dan.

  “What now?”

  “We’ve missed it. This is big.”

  “What’s big?”

  “You’ve been right all along. It’s Vinnie, not just you. He didn’t get mugged at random. He was attacked on purpose and left for dead. He’s in danger.”

  Dan stood, one arm reaching for the table.

  In a few steps, Ginny was holding him. “You can be sure Bill was behind it. We need to find out. Who might know?”

  Without missing a beat, Dan blurted out, “Blanca.”

  “Then we’ll need Blanca’s help. Damn, but you can’t talk to her.” Ginny pointed to the legal papers. “We’ll need an intermediary.” Her hand stretched over her head. “Ben?”

  “Hmm. Yes, I’ll talk to Ben.”

  Chapter 45

  Sisterly Guidance

  “Hey Ginny, how’s my big sis? What’s up?” Rachel’s singsong voice gave Ginny a smile despite the serious nature of Ginny’s call. The two sisters had a rhythm of their own, developed over years of care and fights.

  “Hi, Rach. Listen, I could use your help, and Ted’s. I have an idea that might fix Dan’s problem at DV&N.”

  “Anything. I’ll help. Ted too, I’m sure. What can we do?”

  Rachel dropped everything, and two hours later she was with Ginny in a nearby coffee shop, hearing her big sister’s plan. The first sticking point was acquiring a sizable amount of drugs.

  “What? Ginny, you know how hard Ted’s worked in rehab to break his habit. He’s relapsed twice, and this is his longest recovery period. I’m sorry, but the temptation would be too much.” Rachel was tense, her face hard.

  “I know. And I wouldn’t ask if there was another way. Ted wouldn’t have to touch the stuff. I’d go with him, and I’d hold the bag—or however it’s delivered.”

  “You’re crazy. First, what happens if you’re caught with eight ounces of heroin in New York? That’s at least eight years’ prison, up to twenty, and only if the charge is possession with no intent to sell. The feds are worse. For that amount they assume intent to sell and they’ll throw your ass in prison for five to twenty. And the fine is… oh, something crazy like two million. Ted had this drilled into him during rehab. Your career? Over. Your life? Finished.”

  “I understand. But we won’t get caught. And we won’t have it for long. Bill Barrington will. That’s the point. Tough sentences for him and Linda Lords.”

  “And what about Ted? If he even sees his former drug dealer and the bag passes in front of him, that’s a trigger. Maybe not immediately; maybe it’s a day or two later, or a week. But then all hell breaks loose. He’ll have cravings. The risk is just too great. I’m sorry, Ginny, but I can’t ask Ted to do this. Not to mention I’m worried about you. It’s a crazy idea.”

  Her sister was right. This was too much to ask, and she had no right to destroy Rachel’s and Ted’s lives. Ted already struggled to conquer his demons. He’d always be fighting them, but the longer he managed to control them, the better his chances.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked; I’m sorry. It was an unreasonable request.” Ginny’s shoulders sloped downward as she picked up the luncheonette tab.

  Halfway down the subway stairs Rachel grabbed Ginny’s arm, stopping her on the landing.

  “I have an idea—and I can’t believe I’m even thinking this. Suppose I ask Ted for his dealer’s contact? That might be a trigger, but it’s far less likely. He already has access to that anyway. I’d make the call, and I’d identify myself with all sorts of assurances so the dealer knows it’s not a sting. Ted can guide me. We make the purchase—without Ted. We’ll go in disguise: two sisters with their shopping regalia. Bring Bloomingdale’s bags.” Rachel laughed. “You might as well fill my bag with a couple of blouses, jeans, and a pair of shoes—for authenticity. We’ll blend in with our Sex and the City look.”

  Ginny laughed. “So, besides heroin, I’m buying your spring outfit too? By the way, how much is eight ounces of heroin?”

  “How the fuck should I know? I don’t do heroin. Probably less than my new Bloomingdale’s outfit and shoes will cost, I’d say. This won’t be cheap, but you and Dan can afford it. It’ll be worth it, too, if Dan clears his name.”

  “Okay. Then call me with the arrangements. I haven’t told Dan yet, so mention nothing. I’ve never kept anything from him, but this is different. The less he knows, the better, so he can have complete deniability.”

  “I agree. I’ll let Ted know… and certainly not a word to Mom or Dad. Jesus, could you imagine Dad’s apology to the police!” Their lion roar laughs caused nearby heads to turn in their direction, before the natives resumed their quick descents underground.

  The details came a few hours later. Ginny answered her cell in the bedroom with the door closed. “Thirty grand. That’s a lot. How can I withdraw that much from our account without Dan knowing? The bank would send an email alert. I don’t suppose you could front this for me, Rachel?”

  “You’re joking. Sis, dearie, we’re still digging our way out from Ted’s habit of two years ago. Now you know why his addiction changed our lifestyle. I would if I could. Maybe you’ll have to tell Dan.”

  “He’d explode. Dan doesn’t do this kind of thing. He’d turn himself in to the police. Not an option.”

  “Okay, well… who do you know with lots of money? Mom and Dad, but they’re out. You must have lots of rich friends. Who do you see regularly that has money?”

  “Of course! Ben, my trainer. He’s been around the illegal drug world—steroids. He won’t take a moral stance, especially if I explain this is not for me or resale.”

  “Mr. America has money? I’ll bet there’s a good story there. I can’t wait to hear it.”

  No you don’t, Ginny thought. No way.

  “I’m a little excited,” Rachel said. “How about you?”

  “Not really. I never went for the ‘bad girl’ image that you did.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Back at you. And thanks, Rach, I love you.”

  “Me too.”

  ****

  From the look on Ben’s face, Ginny knew she had stunned him. He was speechless for several seconds, his eyebrows inches high.

  “Ginny, do you realize what you’re doing? Drug dealers are bad people. They kill and murder without a second thought. It’s too dangerous. You have to tell Dan.”

  “Ben, I asked you in confidence. Dan can’t learn about this until it’s over. I understand if you won’t float me the loan—it’s a lot of money. But whether you do or not, please, say nothing to Dan.”

  “The money’s not the issue. Thirty grand doesn’t even put a dent in Davis’s trust. It’s your safety I’m worried about.”

  “Me too. But I need to help Dan, and I’m willing to take the risk. And my sister and I will be safe. This contact is Ted’s friend.”

  “‘Friend’ is not a word with meaning in the drug world. Your sister’s boyfriend would be the first to admit this, I’m sure. Here’s the way it is, Ginny. Ted was this man’s client until he stopped—at which point he became insignificant to his scumbag dealer. You and your sister will be in danger as soon as you meet this guy.”

  “I’ll have ma
ce on me. Ben, I’m desperate; I have to do this. We’ve had a tough time this year, as you know.”

  Ben leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head, his favorite thinking position. A few unconscious flexes drummed his biceps against his brain. His forearms returned to the desk surface.

  “Here’s my offer. I’ll give you the thirty grand on the condition that I come with you.”

  “First off, it’s not a gift. I’ll pay you back once I tell Dan and can withdraw from our savings. Second, I don’t want you involved. Rachel and I can take care of ourselves, and I’m not placing you at risk—which shouldn’t be that big anyway.”

  With a kettledrum baritone growl, Ben replied: “What makes you think this is a negotiation? You don’t set the terms—I do. The money’s a gift, and I come along. Take it or leave it.” Ben flung out his arm and flared his chest, his finger pointing at Ginny.

  Ginny knew she had no choice. “Okay.”

  Chapter 46

  The Gang

  They met in the lobby of UltraFit and waited there for the taxi. Introductions were made. “Ben, this is my sister, Rachel. Rach, this is my friend, Ben.”

  Rachel looked at Ginny and flexed her arm in a mock pose. “Ginny, he’s incredible. Where did you find him? I’ve never seen anyone this big.”

  “Yeah, he’s huge. You should see him with his shirt off. Muscles all over.”

  “Hey, I’m standing right here,” Ben said. “I’m not hanging on a MOMA wall. I can hear you.” Ben was used to people staring at him, touching him, but not talking about him like this in his presence.

  “Pipe down. This is between sisters, so shut it, big boy. Now let me have a feel. Flex those guns.”

  Ben didn’t move. Rachel moved closer to pull his arm. She was altogether different from her sister. Ben gave her a side pose and Rachel mumbled something about melons that he didn’t ask her to repeat.

  “Fun’s over,” Ginny said. “The taxi’s here, and we don’t want to be late.”

  The taxi dropped them on the edge of Bensonhurst on the way to Gravesend toward the corner of Sheepshead Bay, a section of Brooklyn unfamiliar to all three. Rachel lived in the Heights near Henry Street’s chic neighborhood, and both sisters had spent time wandering the remains of the Coney Island fairground, at the fringe of Sheepshead Bay, which was as close as they’d been to this location. Some parts of Brooklyn were an unknown landscape to the two sisters. Ben knew another Brooklyn neighborhood, buried long ago.