by Gary Starta
Chapter Eighteen
Three days earlier…
Mob boss Vito Lamperti concealed a slight tremor in his voice with the aid of some whiskey. Seated behind a mahogany desk in the cramped confines of his basement, he pointed to a bottle of Jack Daniels before him. “You want some?” The woman with the black wavy hair seated before him shakes her head. She is certain she can’t be heard over the din of a nearby air conditioning unit humming like a million cicadas. Despite the warm temperature, she refuses to take off her leather jacket. Vito admires her stoicism―no drinks, no thought about personal comfort―just all business. She’s one hell of a soldier, he thinks.
Traditionally, ‘family matters’ have been discussed in the basement for as long as Vito can remember. It is the one solitary place in the world Vito feels he is free from the ‘ears’ of the world. No maintenance worker has ever been allowed down here. Vito knows the feds too well. He imagines them lying awake at night, pining to send an agent to his home in guise of an electrician or meter reader for the express purpose of planting a bug in his eight―room Wellesley mansion. Vito doesn’t blame them one bit. He admires and respects the agency he considers his adversary. He has also relied on technical wizardry. His brother Fritz recently learned all about the fed’s plans to lure Samantha Baxter into a trap via a rifle mike.
Fritz Lamperti has always been Vito’s right hand man when it comes to intelligence gathering. Vito would be lost without Fritz’ devotion. Fritz would do just about anything for his older brother. Vito knows this―he asked Fritz to take a few anger management classes and Fritz did it without batting an eye. Consequently, Fritz Lamperti holds no one in higher esteem than his older brother. Fritz affectionately dubbed Vito with the name The General shortly after the death of his uncle in 1984. That’s when Vito took over as don of the family. Vito vowed the Lamperti’s would continue to live as kings during his reign. Over the decades, Vito made good on his promise. He ruled the family with an iron fist. On more than one occasion, and often under the influence of whiskey, Vito would confide in Fritz. With glass in hand, Vito would expound upon his philosophy about running the family. Vito delivered lines with the poise of a politician, but underneath the words, Fritz could hear the tone of war general. “We must respect our enemy and live each day as if we are at war with them because winners never underestimate their adversaries.” The General demanded Fritz act as his eyes and ears in the field. He pounded his mantra into Fritz on a daily basis. “No general ever won a war without infiltrating the ranks of his enemy.” Eventually, Vito’s mantras became so well known that Fritz had to beat more than a few men to within an inch of their life for mocking The General. Fritz soon began pirating surveillance equipment with the same zeal most mobsters reserved for sports cars, sound systems or TV’s. Eventually, Fritz began speaking his brother’s language. Although his catchphrases were not as eloquent, they were just as effective when it came to inspiring the family. Fritz once declared: “rifle mikes are the bazooka guns of today” at a waste management convention. What had once been a joke had now become a credo. No one dared to speak a disparaging word about the way Vito operated his business again, but it wasn’t so much out of fear, as it was out of respect. Respect for huge earnings. The Lamperti family lived larger, all because Vito decided to fight fire with fire. He had adopted the fed’s own surveillance tactics and was now using them just as successfully as the bureau itself. In the ensuing years, the Lamperti family continued to exceed their earnings, securing complete devotion from each and every family member. Some even suspected the Lamperti’s eavesdropped regularly on rival families to retain their vice-like grip on overseas commerce. For this reason, the FBI believed they could put an end to organized crime in New England if they could just stop The General. But that was easier said than done because Vito Lamperti always seemed to remain one step ahead of them. Today would be no exception. Vito Lamperti poured another shot of Jack Daniels poising himself to give an order that would literally send shockwaves throughout the crime world. Today, Vito would enlist a woman as a soldier in his army.
“I spoke with my brother Fritz about this plan. I want you to know I gave it substantial thought. I mean, no one to my knowledge has ever proposed such a thing.”
The woman seated before him continued to sit pensively, legs crossed, arms resting on her chair.
“I also want you to know I am proud to name you as my first woman soldier.” Vito offered the woman a drink for the third time. Again, she refused with only the shake of her head. Vito poured a shot into his glass. It gave him an excuse to break eye contact.
“Such a thing would never happen in the old days. But we must change with the times. I keep telling Fritz that.” He takes a swig, keeping his eyes fixated upon the table’s shiny lacquer surface. “That’s why we are and will continue to be the strongest family in Boston. Fritz agrees with me wholeheartedly. In fact, he thinks this is the perfect sting.” Vito pauses to allow the burning sensation in his throat to subside. The woman removes an errant strand of hair from her eyes. Vito squirms in his chair. Her silence makes him uncomfortable. He realizes the gravity of her mission. He sees this pretty woman being laid into the ground before his eyes. He has ordered many a soldier to their deaths before, but this is different. Vito is from the old school. He can’t help seeing this woman as a mother, sister or lover. But for the sake of family, he presses on. Only savvy maneuvers will continue to keep the family strong. He knows this woman can fool everybody into thinking she’s the new ‘Plunger’ or better yet―Samantha Baxter. And when they finally realize their folly, it will be too late. He realizes his own miscalculations are responsible for the current predicament. He can no longer trust the Mayor or the actress to keep quiet about the blackmail. He simply needs damage control. She has already fooled the police to believe she’s the new ‘Plunger.’ It’s highly likely she will be able to fool a federal agent into thinking she’s Samantha Baxter.
Vito raps his knuckles on the table’s hardwood surface in silent salute. He respects the woman’s silence. He will refrain from talking for a moment or so to show his solidarity. This woman’s sacrifice is commendable, but he cannot stop dwelling upon fate. If Fritz hadn’t abused his wife, this woman would not be seated before him today, willingly sacrificing herself for the ‘war.’ Fritz’s ‘problem’ had provided Vito with a new game plan―one much more powerful than simple blackmail. Thanks to Fritz’ psychiatrist, Vito had learned all about Eva Davies’ experience in a parking garage. The psychiatrist had told Fritz that a mystery woman implored the Mayor not to give in to the blackmail demands. This angered Fritz greatly. He wanted to kill this woman, but he also wanted to make her suffer. He fantasized about bashing her skull into a brick wall until her head popped off. He had never dreamed of doing such a thing even to his poor battered wife. But Fritz eventually composed himself (with the aid of his good doctor) to calmly relay the news back to Vito a few hours later. He delivered it with the emotionless detachment of a lieutenant, concealing every surge of adrenaline in his body that pleaded with him to wreak nothing less than complete and irreparable havoc on whoever this mystery woman turned out to be. Vito ordered Fritz to resume his counseling sessions. “You just let me take care of this mystery woman,” Vito told Fritz. “You’re too valuable to risk on such a mission.” Fritz realized Vito was lying to him. But Fritz reasoned even generals had to lie every now and then for the good of the battalion.
In the confines of his basement office, Vito began to mull over possibilities with the aid of whiskey. Whoever this woman is, she’s as stupid as the Mayor. Vito laughed over the din of the air conditioner. He eventually became so inebriated he dug an army flat hat out of a duffel bag and propped it on his head. Vito considered himself an expert strategist, and why not? He had never possessed an actual tape of Davies and Mayor Schroeder. But it only took one threatening phone call to rattle the Mayor’s cage. Vito had ‘eyes’ on the Mayor on all times. He had seen
Davies and Schroeder exiting a hotel together He simply put two and two together to equal adultery. Yes, the original plan had been simple. Threaten to expose the non-existent tape. Vito figured the Mayor was gutless and would never call his bluff. An exposure of such significance would surely ruin Schroeder’s bid for reelection. But up until Fritz’ revelation, Vito had been unsure about the Mayor’s cooperation. The Mayor needed to convince the Planning Board to approve public access to land he planned to convert into a multi-billion dollar condominium development. Only time would tell if the Mayor had met Vito’s demands. The Planning Board was scheduled to make their decision in two weeks. What if the Mayor simply chose to wait out the clock? What if the Mayor decided he had principle? Maybe the Mayor just might decide his reelection wasn’t that important in the scheme of things. He might even develop a conscience and decide the preservation of open space was more important. The “if’s began to keep Vito awake at night. But now Vito possessed vital intelligence information thanks to his spy in the field. A good general would turn this info leak into his advantage. So that’s when The General began to seriously ponder who would oppose the land conversion. It had to be someone in the Mayor’s office - someone who might have overheard my conversation with him. Vito began with the Mayor’s aides. The name Baxter struck a chord with him. Baxter…Baxter…yes, Baxter. That fuckin’ name is on a monument…gracing the very land in question…her parents were on a committee that originally had the land zoned for open space.
It only took a few hours for Vito to convince himself, Baxter had been the woman who confronted Eva Davies in the garage. The second phase of the operation would begin. Vito enlisted the aid of a family member who would play the part of Samantha Baxter. Kristin Collacio, Vito’s twenty six year old cousin, would kill a hapless street person. Investigators would label it as another Plunger attack until they examined the evidence more thoroughly. Then, they would begin to suspect a city employee when a piece of fabric would turn up at the scene. They would come to suspect Samantha Baxter because she was most vocally opposed to the land development. The plan had worked like a charm so far. Fritz confirmed this thanks to his rifle mike.
Vito began to emerge from his alcoholic daze. He must enlist the Mayor’s support. A good general can always rally the troops. He breaks his silence and begins to brief his soldier.
“You see, the police now think Baxter is the new ‘Plunger’ thanks to the crime scene evidence you’ve planted. She has the motive. You know, I thought the threat of more killings might be enough of a threat to ruin the Mayor. But politics is a funny game. The people might not be so quick to blame Schroeder for the Plunger killings. That’s why I want you to become Samantha Baxter. You’ll take the FBI woman hostage and then you’ll demand that the Mayor divulge his affair on live television without ever having to produce an actual tape. He’ll have to comply because you’ll have a federal agent’s life in your hands. I’m afraid my original strategy was flawed. We can no longer depend upon the Mayor. His high profile behavior is bad for business, even if he were to cooperate. We can’t have him banging high profile celebrities. They talk too much. That’s why we need you to engage the feds in a good old gunfight, one where enough bullets will fly to take out the Mayor and also take down a few of Boston’s finest along the way. I believe they call this kind of thing collateral damage.” He sneers. “Another Mayor will come along. One who keeps a lower profile, and in time, we’ll eventually have him in our pocket. One way or another, that land will be ours for the taking.”
The woman nods again and a small smile begins to play on her lips.
“You know, maybe I’ll take a drink after all.”
Vito pours her drink. “That’s my girl.” Vito regrets his word choice. No matter how hard he tries to see her as a soldier, she is still a woman, and if his uncle were alive to witness such sacrilegious behavior, Vito is sure he would find himself swimming with the fishes.
“You know, my young friend, there’s a very good chance you might not be coming back from this. I salute you.” He tinkles his glass with hers. “Salud!”
She repeats the offering.
“I’ll say every prayer for your safe return. Who knows, I might even make you a “made” woman when you come back. That should give some of the old geezers a cardiac!”
The woman continues to smile politely. But she thinks to herself that maybe Fritz isn’t the only family member in need of a psychiatrist.
Chapter Nineteen
“Isn’t it a bit hot for that mask, darling?” Her insolence earned her a smack in the face.
The masked woman whispered. “This is your last warning.” She pivoted back around to regain control of the wheel.
Diggs, tied up in the backseat of her rental car, just had to take a chance. She had to warn her partner Geoffrey that her abductor was not Samantha Baxter. The masked woman could have killed her for her disobedience, but for some odd reason, she believed her abductor wanted to keep her alive for the time being. She was being taken somewhere and there just had to be a reason for it. This woman obviously knew she had been wired with a tracking device. It stood to reason she would lead investigators to a specific destination. Diggs kept her eyes glued to the back of her abductor’s masked head, hoping to learn where she was being taken. She wished she could contact Stanford Carter. The Boston detective not only knew the area better geographically, but he also had quite a knack for playing hunches. Diggs opted to obey her captor’s wishes for the moment, but she sure as hell wasn’t enjoying the ride.
Diggs would have been relieved to know Carter had already warned McAllister.
“Agent McAllister, the woman you’re tailing is not Samantha Baxter.”
“Is that so, detective?”
“I just found her body on her living room floor. This is some kind of setup. I think it’s an ambush.”
“I’ll try to stall for time once she reaches her destination, Detective Carter. Have you changed your mind about sending more backup?”
“No, Agent. I think sending more officers to the scene will only result in more deaths. If we are to preserve life, we’ll have to rely upon the element of surprise. I am in route now to pick up a colleague. When you reach your destination, advise me of your location. Then stall for all the time you can. When I get there, I will lie in wait for whoever else is working with our mystery woman.”
“Understood. And thanks Detective Carter.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Agent McAllister. Just be assured I’m going to do everything in my power to protect Agent Diggs.”
Agent McAllister believed Detective Carter would do everything he could. But he still had to wonder if it would be enough. He realized they were no longer dealing with a deranged serial killer. Whoever took Diggs probably worked for hire. He had to admit the bastards were smart. They had successfully lured investigators on the wrong trail from day one. Samantha Baxter was nothing more than a victim. And now she was dead because he and Diggs had been tricked. Pushing all thoughts about Diggs’ personal safety from his mind, he began to contemplate a game plan. He would let Diggs’ abductor think she was still fooling them and address her as Samantha Baxter during negotiations. She just might slip up and give him one split second of time. And one split second might be all he would need to free Diggs. It had to be, because Agent McAllister knew professional killers rarely slipped up.
* * *
He had feared Diggs was being taken out of state. The gray sedan had led McAllister through the towns of Medford and East Somerville by way of Route 93 North. The Massachusetts highway would eventually lead one into New Hampshire. However, the car slowed and readied itself for a turn at a wooded area known as Middlesex Fells Reservoir. Located between the town of Winchester and Spot Pond, the beautiful scenic area might give the abductor an adequate buffer zone to keep police at bay. McAllister could only hope tourists would not become victim to whatever the killer w
as planning.
McAllister radioed Carter who was quite familiar with the reservoir. Stanford advised he and his rookie CSI Jill Seacrest would be on the scene shortly. “Be patient, Agent McAllister.” But as soon as the gray sedan stopped, McAllister ignored Carter’s advice. Up and out of his vehicle, he shouted. “Throw your weapon out of the car and put your hands on your head!”