“Sir, do you know what this is? About eight ounces of heroin. That’s a criminal offense.”
“What? Heroin? You have to be shitting me. I don’t do drugs. I have no idea where that came from. I’m sorry for what I said before. Linda’s right, I’m an asshole.”
Linda staggered. “Officer, there’s been a mistake. That heroin, if it is heroin, must’ve been planted. I can vouch for this man. He doesn’t do drugs. You have to believe me. This is a mistake.”
Paganno hid his smile; this was going his way. Now to play good cop: a role he wasn’t used to.
“Ma’am, I can see you’re not bad people. Although your friend… I mean colleague… can’t handle his alcohol. But I’m afraid this implicates both of you.” Paganno held up the plastic bag. “This quantity qualifies as possession with intent to distribute. I hate to ruin good people’s reputation. You’re decent people… certainly you are, Miss.” Wow, that was a great performance.
“We are,” Linda said. “We don’t do drugs and we don’t sell. Can you help us? What can we do to convince you?” Linda’s eyes filled with water, something that hadn’t happened in recent memory.
“Let me think.” Paganno looked down at his feet for a few seconds. “I can’t let you have this back.”
“Of course, take it. It’s not mine anyway.” Bill awkwardly shuffled to the rear of the car. This sounded to him like a negotiation: his line of work.
More delay as Paganno rubbed his hand to his chin then realized he was overacting. “Okay, here’s what I’m willing to do. I’ll issue you a violation for an improperly displayed license plate. You’ll get a warning in the mail, no fine for a first offense, and certainly not criminal. I’ll need names and contact information from both of you. Miss, can you show me identification.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” said Linda. She fished inside her handbag and handed Officer Paganno her California driver’s license.
“Any other identification?”
“I have my work ID,” Linda said. “I used to live in California, now I’m in Paris, but my company headquarters is here, with Bill. We’re executives with Del Vecchio & Neale.” Linda’s hand shook as she handed over her business card. “Do you want my Paris address too?”
Paganno copied down all her information on his notepad. “No need. We can contact you through your office here if we need to.”
Bill provided his license and business card as well, writing both his direct line office number and his New Jersey home number on the back.
As the Mercedes drove off with a shaken Bill and Linda, Dominic Paganno called Big John. “All done. I would’ve enjoyed busting him. Could’ve had him on drunk driving too. What an asshole. The stuff’s not great. I expect you to pick up the shortfall. Need their contact numbers?”
“Nope. We’re good for the difference, as promised.” Barrington’s not the only asshole.
The end of the call signaled the start of step two.
Chapter 51
Telephone Calls
The phone rang three times before a husky voice answered. “Del Vecchio & Neale, Linda Lords’s office. This is Ms. Cooper speaking. How may I help you?”
“I would like to speak to Linda Lords.” A gruff Brooklyn accent.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Lords is in a meeting. May I take your name and contact information? Ms. Lords will return your call as soon as she’s available. If you tell me what this is regarding, perhaps I can be of assistance.” Shareen used her formal DV&N phone voice.
“Nah. It’s personal. When will Linda be available?”
“She’s in meetings all day, but if you tell me your name I’ll pass it along.”
Big John hadn’t anticipated that he wouldn’t reach Linda Lords with a single dial. Calling Fortune 500 company headquarters was not among his life experiences. Steel-mesh barbed wire fences had never impeded Big John, but corporate gatekeepers were entirely different obstacles. Dan, however, had anticipated this hurdle. He sat next to Big John, listening in on an extension. When he heard Shareen’s reply, he wrote instructions on a pad for Big John.
Big John read the script Dan jotted down, his mechanical voice sounding like a Coney Island machine recording. “What time is Linda’s next meeting?”
“Eleven-thirty. Ms. Lords will probably not return to her office but go directly to her next meeting. I don’t know when she’ll return to her office.”
More pad scribbling.
“I’ll take a chance and call a few minutes before her eleven-thirty meeting. Tell her it’s important and she’d better take my call, because it’s about her meal with Bill Barrington last Friday at Bel Jour France.” Big John pronounced the restaurant as Beel Jarrr Fraaance. “She’ll know what I mean and she’ll want to talk to me.”
“Sir, if you would please tell—” Click. Shareen was astounded. The caller had hung up on her in mid-sentence. This was not a typical DV&N client—far too uncouth. She would tell Linda before her next meeting. Despite what she’d told the caller, she knew that Linda would return to the office before her next meeting to collect her notes.
Dan nodded to Big John. Time for the next call.
“Hello, this is Del Vecchio & Neale, Bill Barrington’s office, Ms. Santos speaking. May I help you?” Blanca had a cheery voice, not as formal as Shareen’s, but the same script.
“Yeah, I want to speak to Bill Barrington.” More of Big John’s Brooklynese, this time a counterpoint to Blanca’s Bronx.
“Mr. Barrington is unavailable. May I take a message or may I help you?” Again Blanca used the same script Shareen had used. DV&N assistants were well trained, practically word-perfect. But Blanca wasn’t as effective a gatekeeper as Shareen, for the simple reason that she didn’t care who bothered her boss.
“Nah. This is personal. Bill’s gonna want to talk to me, I guarantee ya. He had dinner last Friday with Linda, so he’ll talk to me.”
One of Dan’s instructions to Big John was to use first names, giving credence to the claim that the call was personal.
And indeed, Linda’s name had proved to be the master key. Blanca patched the call through to Shithead Barrington, hoping this might ruin his day.
“Bill Barrington speaking. Har har, har har. So whom am I talking to?”
“Not important. All you need to know is that your shit wasn’t any good. You owe me extra.” Big John didn’t require Dan’s help for this part. He knew how to shake down a stooge.
“Who is this? What’s this about?” A false bellowing sound.
“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Here’s the deal: you come up with ten grand and tell your bosses at DV&N, what’s their names, oh yeah, Gary Del Vecchio and Myron Rosenberg, that Linda was caught with drugs and needs to be fired.” Big John read off the corporate names Dan had written down for him.
“You’re out of your fucking mind. It wasn’t my shit, as you put it, and I’m not going to be blackmailed. Screw you.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve made the same offer to Linda. You or Linda lose your job, it’s all the same to me. This is payback for me losing my street creds trying to unload your bad shit. You could both save your asses if you each come up with ten grand and one of you quits. You know, personal health reasons. You’ll both keep your reputations, at least.”
“Listen to me, asshole. Fuck you.” The scream was audible in Blanca’s office even with the door closed. Bill beat Big John to slamming down the phone.
“We need to reach Linda before Bill,” Dan said. “This can’t wait. Try Linda’s cell phone.” His voice quivered. He had expected Bill to negotiate or stall for time.
Big John looked through the papers Dom Paganno had handed him. Paganno had decided not to throw them away, even though Big John had said they weren’t needed. And there it was: Linda’s cell number.
DV&N had a strict protocol: during meetings, all cell phones were to be on silent mode with minimal vibration. But Linda didn’t believe in protocols. Her loud ring ec
hoed through the room and she feigned an apology as she hurried from the boring meeting. An unknown phone number flashed on her screen.
“Linda Lords speaking.”
“Hiya, Linda. Listen carefully because you don’t have much time to make a decision.”
Big John repeated to Linda the speech he had given Bill. She wasn’t as crude as Bill, but she dismissed him all the same. Not her drugs, she said. Nothing to do with her, and she had no intention of losing her job over this. It was Bill’s car, his problem.
“You have until three o’clock before I call Gary. Make a decision before two fifty-five. And toots, keep your cell on and take my call.”
As Big John hung up, he saw in Dan’s expression that the man felt the same way he did. This was not going down as Dan had planned, for the reason John had given Dan from the start. If it were him, he’d call the bluff. And he was certain Bill and Linda would make the same decision once they talked to each other.
****
Instead of returning to the meeting, Linda rode the elevator up a flight to the executive office wing, where she walked past her office and into Bill’s corner office.
“Good morning, Linda,” said Blanca, her voice as sincere as she could muster. “How can I—”
Waste of effort. Neither acknowledging Blanca nor knocking at Bill’s office, Linda burst through the door. Before it slammed shut behind her, Blanca heard Linda say, “What the fuck, Bill.”
Blanca smiled. This was a good morning.
“Did you get the same fucking call as me?” Linda asked.
“You mean that bullshit blackmail threat. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry? What do you mean, don’t worry? One of us will lose our job! We have to fork over ten grand each of our hard-earned money to a corrupt cop.”
“Calm down and think about it. First, the drugs weren’t mine. I can’t explain how they were there. Maybe my goddamn wife is doing drugs, hiding them in my car. I don’t know.” The words came out in a measured cadence, managerial.
Linda couldn’t be sure that Bill didn’t sell drugs on the side; nothing would surprise her about Bill’s morals after his setup of Vinnie and Dan. She shook her head.
“Second point: there’s no written drug charge. How’s the cop going to explain he suddenly remembered he confiscated a bag of heroin from the weekend? ‘Chief, by the way, I have these drugs in my car that I forgot to report.’ I don’t think so. He’s bluffing, and his blackmail works only if one of us confesses. Hell, confesses to what? It’s all bullshit.”
As much as Linda understood Bill’s logic, wanted to believe him, she had doubts. Could Bill be trusted? He’d act in his best interest. That’s what Bill always did. She needed more than his opinion that this was bullshit.
“Bill, is there any way we can track down this cop? I don’t think the person on the phone was the cop. His voice didn’t seem right.”
“I had the same feeling. Might’ve been a bad line or he held a cloth over the phone. Let me think about it.”
Linda looked at her watch. “We have until three. That’s not much time.”
“You go, and I’ll get on this right away.”
Chapter 52
The Check
“Hi Dan, it’s Blanca. How are you? Vinnie? The girls can’t wait to see him.”
“Hi, Blanca. Vinnie improves every day. I’m fine too. Remember not to tell the others where Vinnie’s staying, especially so neither Bill nor Linda learns Vinnie’s location.”
“I don’t understand why, but I haven’t, and I won’t.”
“How about you? Everything okay?”
“That’s the thing, Dan. I know it’s against the rules to talk to you about DV&N, but something odd’s happened. Linda barged into Bill’s office a half hour ago, then she and Bill stormed out.” Blanca paused. “And here’s the odd part. Just before Linda burst in, a call came from a Brooklyn guy. He told me it was personal, about Bill’s dinner with Linda at Bel Jour France. I mean, Ben knew about the same dinner. Does this involve Vinnie or you?”
A few seconds passed. “It has nothing to do with me or Vinnie.” The lie stuck in Dan’s throat.
“I’m so relieved. When can I visit?”
His lying returned sooner than expected. “Maybe the day after tomorrow, after Vinnie’s medical review.” Dan’s throat choked his voice.
As soon as the call ended he placed a new one. “Ginny, we may have a problem.”
****
The valet for Ristorante Roma caught the keys thrown to him as Bill rushed into the restaurant. Sal lumbered over, pointing to Carmine at his back room table.
Carmine extended a limp hand for a pretend handshake.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Bill said. “I appreciate it.”
Carmine didn’t waste time with small talk, especially near lunchtime. He might postpone a meal for urgent business, but nothing else. Bill’s business wasn’t urgent.
Carmine looked at his watch. “Talk.”
“It’s something inexplicable. I had dinner at Bel Jour France with a friend last Friday.”
Carmine chewed his lips while Bill summarized what had happened. He concluded with, “It’s bullshit. The cop took the bag, then issued me a warning on a trumped-up vehicle charge.”
“Dirty cop takes your drugs. Big deal.” Carmine formed an onion tip with two fingers and his thumb pinched, shaking his wrist.
“Not my drugs. A guy calls me, says the ‘shit’s’ no good. It’s not the cop’s voice.” Bill told Carmine about the demand. “I can understand about the money—even though it’s bullshit—but why does he want one of us to lose our job?”
Carmine shrugged.
“Okay, doesn’t matter. Can you find out about the cop or the caller?”
“How am I going to find a dirty cop? Even if we narrow it to Brooklyn, the number is probably several hundred, maybe a thousand. In my line of work, I depend on the cooperation of New York’s Finest.” Carmine rubbed his Armani sweater.
Bill whistled when he heard the number of cops on the take. “I have a badge number with a scribbled name on the warning, unless it’s fake.”
Carmine took the paper, then waved it at Sal. “Know this guy? One of ours?”
Sal stared. “We used him once. Unreliable. Jammed up one of Mike’s guys, so Mike won’t use him again. I wouldn’t either.”
Carmine turned to Bill. “He wanted ten from you and your associate?”
“And one of us quits our job.”
“Thirty, same as before.”
Bill blinked.
“And you keep your jobs.”
“Are you saying that for thirty grand this goes away?” Bill’s mouth hung open.
Bill made an executive decision; there was no time to consult Linda, not with the approaching deadline and Carmine about to start lunch. “One more thing. Er… this needs to be done before three. Is that possible?”
“I’ll let you know. My antipasto will be here in twenty and I need to wash up. You’ll get a call after lunch.”
****
At two forty-five the news broke across the New York metro stations. But Bill heard it by phone. “Come for cannòli and an espresso around four,” Sal Friscollo added, munching his words the way he chewed breadsticks.
On returning to DV&N, Bill went straight to Linda’s office. His demand for fifteen grand rocked her executive swivel chair.
“You want me… to… to… to hand over… fifteen fucking grand after I’ve already… for what?”
“Shut your fucking mouth. You want to keep your fucking director’s job? You’ll cover this in a week with your new salary. Just get me the goddamn money, bitch.”
“How do we know this is over? There won’t be more demands?” A mouse squeal voice.
Bill puffed out his cheeks. “Trust me, it’s over. Read the Daily News online.”
Linda quickly pulled up the headlines. Her hand went to her mouth, stifling a scream.
“I’ll get the money. Never again.” She struggled out of her office to the ladies’ toilets. She left the next day for Paris.
****
At three p.m. the New York Stock Exchange closing bell rang. Dan was checking the Bloomberg online closing summary, but he switched to the New York Times when a bulletin flashed across the bottom of his screen.
A New York City cop was shot and killed in Brooklyn this afternoon. Details are unknown. Updates will follow as more information reaches the news desk.
Crime stories didn’t interest Dan, but this one did. Unfortunately, the Times had no more information than that, so Dan surfed to the Daily News web page—cop killings were right up their alley. And in fact, the News did have a bit more information. They were withholding the cop’s name pending notification of next of kin, but they gave the precinct and added that the victim had died of a single shot to the head.
He called Ginny for a second time. “This is bad. Real bad.”
“What could have gone wrong?” Her voice was unsteady.
“It was a stupid idea to begin with. Suppose they link this to us?” Dan asked.
Ginny’s voice cracked. “How?” She paused, sucked air. “What’s the connection between the cop and John?”
“I have a bad feeling. Come home as soon as you can. I’m worried.” A sigh. “Ginny, I love you.” He hung up before Ginny said, “I love you too.”
Dan’s next call was to Big John.
“Jesus Christ. A fucking disaster. It’s got to be my guy.” Big John’s voice was strong, no fear.
“Brooklyn has a lot of cops. Are you sure?”
“Same precinct, so yeah. We’ve got to hope my guy didn’t tell anyone about me or Vinnie. A fucking disaster.”
That night Ginny and Dan huddled together, glued to the TV evening news, but came away no better informed. But they got the news they expected when the phone rang at eight-fifteen.
“I can confirm.” No greeting from the gruff voice. “Tomorrow, Vinnie’s place.”
****
Big John and Dan sat in the kitchen, going over details. “We find out how far this goes, who knows, how it was discovered. What’s the blowback to us? We trace Barrington’s steps after my phone call.” Big John stopped, then crowed. “No, we start with the restaurant bust.”
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