Travis was so tired he could cry. Just the thought of turning around and driving back made his head pound worse. “There’s got to be a place to dump him in Chicago. It’s not like a dead guy is all that unusual in the city.”
Travis glanced over when Lenny didn’t answer and saw that Lenny was calling someone. “Who are you calling? It’s three o’clock in the morning!”
Lenny cleared his throat, “Who do you call if you have a toothache? You call a dentist, right?” Lenny held up his index finger to stop Travis from answering and spoke into his phone. “Uncle Artie? Sorry to call at this hour, but I’ve got a little problem. Actually, it’s a big problem. Where would be a good place in Chicago to dump a body?”
Travis nearly choked! Lenny called Artie Corsone at three in the morning to ask where to dump a body? Is there no end to this guy?
Lenny was listening to Artie, all the while peppering the conversation with “Okay…. uh huh…. okay.”
Travis was ready to bang his forehead on the steering wheel when Lenny finally hung up. “I can’t believe you called him! What is wrong with you? What did he say?”
“He wants us to meet him in the alley behind Momma’s Sandwich Shop in 30 minutes. He says there are extra cops with the Fourth of July around the corner and we need to be extra careful.”
“Us? Why do I have to be there? Do you remember there’s a bounty on my head and you just arranged a meeting, in a dark alley, with a very well connected Westside mob member? You don’t see a problem with that?”
Lenny frowned and scratched at his scalp. “You don’t get it. Uncle Artie isn’t like those guys. He’s a forger. He never did any of the muscle stuff, but he’s heard all the stories. He’s always looked out for me and kept me out of trouble. It will be fine, trust me! Besides, who was it that warned you about Butch and Raymond? None of this would have happened if you weren’t already knee deep in a pile of crap. I wouldn’t have this problem if I never met you!”
Travis acknowledged Lenny was right. “Fine. You’ll have to give me directions to this Momma’s place.” Travis had another thought. “Don’t say my name around Artie. The less he knows the better.”
*****
Artie hesitated before he dialed Momma’s number. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm her. Finally, he took a deep breath and hit her number on his speed dial. After two rings, Momma answered the phone. “Hello?”
Artie said, “Don’t be alarmed because I’m calling at this hour. My nephew, Lenny, has got himself in a little mess and I’m going to help him out is all. I told him to meet me behind your place so we could talk. I didn’t want us to cause you concern if you happened to look out of your window.”
Momma paused. “What kind of a mess?”
Artie answered, “I don’t know the whole story. You just go back to sleep and don’t fret your pretty face. I’ll see you around opening time like usual.”
Momma said goodnight and rested her head back on her pillow. Only reason to meet somebody behind her place would be cuz you’ve got somethin’ to hide. You can have a conversation on a phone or meet on the street if all you’re doin’ is talkin’.
The city had blocked off that alley years ago and deeded it back to the property owners. Only a few people even realized part of it was still there. Momma had built a small garage on part of the land and left the remainder for Mitch to use for parking his car.
She looked at her bedside clock; three o’clock in the morning. Something didn’t sit right about this whole thing. Momma put her robe and slippers on, went downstairs and entered her garage from her back door. She walked to the back of the garage and cracked open the window next to the alley. She used the tissues in her robe pocket to dust off a small folding chair and sat under the window and waited. If people were going to use her house for meetin’s in the middle of the night, she had a right to know what was goin’ on.
*****
Artie took a deep breath and then dialed Frankie Mullen’s number. He knew he risked getting on Frankie’s bad side, but he thought he might be able to have Lenny do some extra work for him to make up for it.
Frankie answered on the first ring. “Yeah.”
“Frankie? This is Artie Corsone. I am so very sorry to trouble you at this late hour.”
Frankie grunted, “What do you want?”
“My nephew, Lenny, seems to have a big problem tonight. I’m hoping you can help him out in exchange for him doing some extra work at your new place.”
“What kind of problem?” Frankie knew the minute he laid eyes on Lenny that he was a loser. It couldn’t be that much of a problem and there was still work that needed to be done at the house.
Artie said, “It seems Lenny has come back from New Buffalo with a body in his truck bed. I was hoping you could suggest a disposal site.” Artie cringed while he waited on Frankie’s response.
Frankie almost laughed. So that’s what happened to Butch’s body. Lenny must have still been in town, found the body, and removed it so Frankie wouldn’t find it at his house.
Frankie chuckled, “I always liked that Lenny. Tell him to put that trash in the dumpster behind Bruno’s Bar. If anybody gives him any guff, have him say I told him it was okay. Tell Lenny I owe him one.” Frankie liked the idea of Dominick getting his own trash back.
Artie wondered if Frankie really understood what he was asking. How could Frankie owe Lenny? Artie asked, “You understand I’m talking about a human body, right?”
Frankie chuckled, “Yeah, I figured human. Dominick has his own trash removal company. They pick up every morning at six. The dumpster lid has a lock: the code is 911. There won’t be any questions.”
Artie made his apologies again and thanked Frankie for the information. Artie thought about what Frankie had said the whole time he drove to Momma’s. He had heard rumors that Frankie was starting to lose it. Maybe the rumors were true.
Frankie felt better now that he knew what had happened to Butch’s body. He wondered how often Lenny had been using his New Buffalo house as a hotel. No matter. After tonight, Frankie was pretty sure Lenny wouldn’t hang around any longer than he had to. Frankie turned the radio on to his favorite oldies station and sang along. He’d be back into the heart of the city in minutes. The traffic was light and Frankie soon found himself cruising through the old neighborhood and remembering his glory days as the Westside Crew’s top hitman.
*****
Lenny pointed where Travis needed to turn into the alley at Momma’s Sandwich Shop. Travis noted the place was well kept and a red sign hung from the glass front door declaring they were closed. One light at the end of the alley filled the black night with an eerie yellow glow. A car parked in the far back corner of the alley blinked its lights at them.
Travis pulled the truck within ten feet of the car and stopped. “You get out and explain this. I’ll wait in the truck.”
Lenny jumped out of the truck and talked through the open window. “Uncle Artie’s a good man, Travis. You need to loosen up some.”
Travis refrained from saying what was on his mind. He promised God he would even start going to church, if God would just get him out of the country as soon as possible. Travis watched as Artie and Lenny talked by Artie’s car. Lenny kept pointing at the truck as he talked. Travis could only imagine what he was saying. Artie appeared to be staring at Lenny in disbelief as he listened.
Momma was sitting on the folding chair in the garage taking notes. She couldn’t believe some guy named Butch Dunlap was dead in the back of Lenny’s truck. Lenny told Artie that he and Travis Cummings, the FBI mob witness, had killed two men at Frankie Mullen’s New Buffalo house. They had stuffed Raymond in an oil barrel and left him at some bar in Galien, Michigan. Lenny said the reason they had killed them was because Dominick had put a bounty on Travis Cummings’ head for one million dollars, and Butch and Raymond had come to collect.
Momma almost giggled when Artie started chewing out Lenny. Momma could picture Artie’s face. Artie told Len
ny that he had called Frankie and that Frankie had suggested they use Dominick’s dumpster at Bruno’s Bar. After another brief exchange, Momma heard Lenny’s truck and Artie’s car leave the alley. Momma went back upstairs, reached under the drawer of her end table and pulled out the yellowed envelope taped underneath. She dialed the number that was on a slip of paper inside, let it ring three times, and then hung up. She taped the envelope back with fresh tape and waited.
A few moments later her phone rang. “Sophia, dear? I have some gossip that’s real fresh, but I’m not sure how important it is.” Momma told Sophia about the events in the alley. “I’m thinking that with Dominick going to prison soon, you can retire this FBI spy stuff and come home.”
Momma listened a few minutes and suddenly a wide smile broke across her face. “Oh, darlin’, that is the best news I’ve heard in the 25 years you’ve been gone. Love you, dear. Stay in touch.”
Momma crawled back in bed, the smile still plastered across her face. Her heart was bursting with anticipation knowing that Nick was gettin’ his momma back soon.
*****
Artie had driven to Bruno’s first, so he could keep an eye on the alley where the dumpster was. There were a few patrons still at the bar, but Travis and Lenny were able to drop Butch into the dumpster and leave without anyone seeing them.
Artie sat in his car at the curb, flooded by memories of his days as Dominick’s forger. He had worked very hard to keep Lenny out of the mob life and yet, here he sat. The lights inside the bar started to go off one-by-one. The familiar sick feeling in his gut returned as he realized that now he owed Frankie Mullen a favor. That’s how it worked. Artie moaned to himself imagining what Frankie might ask him to do. Whatever it would be, Artie couldn’t say no.
*****
Travis pulled Lenny’s truck up to the entrance of a small but clean looking hotel. He put the truck in park, looked at Lenny and said, “This is the end of the line for me. No offense, but I hope I never see you again.”
Lenny smiled and said, “I think I can go a while without seein’ you, too. If you need somethin’, you call though. You got my number right?”
Travis shook Lenny’s hand and walked into the hotel. As soon as Lenny’s truck had rounded the corner, Travis called a cab to take him to a car rental shop. He trusted Lenny, but he didn’t trust Lenny’s mouth. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was staying tonight. He had to stay safe until he hooked up with the FBI if he was to get out of Chicago alive.
*****
Nick and Dalton had questioned J.T. for over an hour and still had nothing. Nick excused himself from the living room and returned with a syringe. He held it up for J.T. to examine.
“I’m going to put you out for about six hours. If you need to contact Mason, you’d better do it now. I’m taking a wild guess here, but I bet if you don’t report success, then Mason is going to replace you and get the job done with someone else. Whether you like it or not we hold the cards right now. Your only hope is that the CIA will cut you a deal.”
J.T. glanced back at Dalton and then back to Nick. “I could send a text to Mason that everything is secure.”
Nick handed J.T. his phone and said, “Show me the text before you send it.”
J.T. typed exactly what he had said and handed his phone to Nick. Nick hit send. J.T. rolled up his sleeve and Nick injected him.
Dalton glanced at his watch. “You sure we have six hours?”
J.T. fell to his side and Nick lifted his feet so he was prone on the couch. He looked at Dalton and answered, “Six or seven. I might have given him a little extra dose, he’s a big boy.”
Dalton looked tired.
Nick said, “There’s no reason we can’t grab a few hours’ rest.”
Dalton nodded and pulled the lever on Nick’s recliner. Nick took the other recliner and inched it to the left to face J.T. There was no point in cuffing J.T. Nick was sure he could get out of cuffs with no problem. Nick peeked into Chris’ room and saw him sleeping like a baby. He had heard Chris on the phone with Angel several times earlier in the evening.
Nick clicked on CNN Headline News and watched for about an hour. Dalton and J.T.’s snoring had synchronized. Nick closed his eyes.
*****
Agent Stephen Phillips heard what he thought was his alarm clock; it turned out to be his cell phone. “Phillips.”
He listened as he stood and began gathering his clothes to get dressed. Phillips was the FBI’s Chicago organized crime lead agent and they had just received a tip that there was a body in Dominick Guioni’s dumpster. Combination on the dumpster lock: 911. Phillips suspected the tip had come from Nick’s mom, Sophia. He had heard rumors that she was ready to retire and re-enter civilian life, but he hadn’t said anything to Nick. They would miss her tips. He had no idea how she always knew exactly what was happening and to whom. Today she even had the dumpster code. It was amazing.
Phillips was lost in thought as he drove to Bruno’s Bar. The rumor had said that Lenny Corsone, Artie Corsone’s nephew, and Travis Cummings had dumped the body. It sounded like Travis hadn’t made it out of the country after all. Phillips would have thought that Travis would stay as far away from Dominick as possible. Yet, he came to Dominick’s bar to dump a body?
Phillips turned his SUV around the corner and saw a large group of men gathered near the front door of the bar. They were all looking at something on the sidewalk. Phillips parked, held up his badge and said, “What’s going on?”
A known associate of Dominick’s pointed behind him. “How do you Feds get information so fast? We just found him ourselves five minutes ago.”
Phillips asked, “Found who?”
The thug answered, “Dominick. Well, most of him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Tuesday, July 3rd, 7:30 a.m., CIA Headquarters, Langley Virginia
The hospital had wrapped Benson’s stomach in bandages, handed him two bottles of pills, and told him to lie down as much as possible and avoid stress. Benson had felt every bump in the road on the drive to the office, but he knew better than to take the painkillers.
Darren greeted him as soon as he exited the elevator near his office. “You look awful, sir.”
Benson smiled and held out his hand for the stack of messages Darren presented him.
Darren frowned. “I put the most urgent on top. There has been a lot of activity since you left yesterday.”
Benson glanced at the top message; it was from the amphitheater Control Manager last night. It simply read: “Canary died.” Benson had a momentary flashback of his nightmare while in the hospital.
Darren stood. “Let me help you take these reports to your office, sir. The Director has asked to be notified as soon as you arrive. He will be coming to your office momentarily.”
Benson had never hosted a meeting with the Director; he had always been required to report upstairs. Things must be worse than he expected. He lowered himself gingerly to sit in his office chair as Darren closed the blinds and dimmed the overhead lights. A chilled bottle of water and a glass of orange juice sat on Benson’s side table. He took a gulp of the orange juice and thanked Darren. The reduced lighting in the room calmed the pounding in his head.
Darren took a seat at the monitor control module to the side of Benson’s desk and said, “I took the liberty of compiling a bullet point list to bring you up to speed before your meeting with the Director.”
Benson said, “I don’t know how I would function without you. How bad is it?”
Darren illuminated the wall monitor and began reading. “It starts with a bombing in Geneva at the train station. Then a commercial jet was shot down over the Ukraine. The Control Manger has reported that the satellites under surveillance have been forming a regional shield over the Americas and appear to have begun this activity by piggybacking our Malaysian DIANA code. Those are the high points.”
“All of this happened last night?”
“Yes, sir. Dr. Elliott Nobel is being transfer
red here and should arrive any moment, sir.”
Darren excused himself when the Director appeared in the doorway. Benson started to stand and the Director motioned for him to stay seated.
The Director sat across from Benson and leaned forward. “First, let me say that the only good news I’ve heard in two days was that you would be here this morning. Thank you, Benson.” The Director raised his eyebrows and said, “Defense wants us to use the Ukraine shooting of that jet as a cover on the jet we sequestered. They want to blame both on Russia. There is growing support to stage this as a terrorist act since Putin is screaming we murdered a Russian citizen.”
Benson wasn’t going to start the day agreeing to murder 213 people, because it would hide a larger problem.
The Director continued, “It may be touchy obtaining the help we need from Dr. Nobel if he suspects he may not survive this time of crisis.”
Benson remained silent.
The Director leaned back. He sensed Benson’s disapproval. “Understand that this pressure is coming from Washington. You’re the one that ordered the jet taken, Benson.”
Benson leaned forward and felt his surgery wounds pull. “Yes, I did. I needed to ensure that we had Dr. Nobel and his team available for questioning in case they were participants in the breach. We now know they are innocent.” Benson chose his words carefully. “I believe you and I need to change the sentiments on this issue. The sequestered jet could be ‘discovered’, with survivors, and Dr. Kyser could have perished from a heart attack during the crash. We’ve sold worse stories.”
The Director saw determination on Benson’s face and decided that this wasn’t the time to push this particular issue. “Yes, we have sold worse stories.”
Benson could tell from the tone of the Director’s voice that there would still be a fight ahead on the sequestered jet. The Director spent fifteen minutes filling Benson in on the other events of the evening.
Zero Margin: Nick Stryker, Book Three The Shallow End Gals (Nick Stryker Series 3) Page 12