Manny Sabo looked forward to arranging the airport deal. He knew he would take a cut from the bribe money and Edmund wouldn’t be the wiser. Manny left the caretaker’s cottage and drove to the airport. He watched the two night police at the airport. No one seemed to be in the control tower. He noted the rifles in their Jeep and also what looked like a stinger missile launcher. Damn, he thought. These guys are prepared. He drove in slowly and parked. He sauntered over to the two officers parked near the control tower.
One of them, he realized, he knew from the local bar. “Hey, Parker, how’s it going?” “Hey, Manny, what’s up?” Manny explained the situation. Parker Tallman and Nate O’Leary looked at each other. Finally, Parker spoke. “Manny, this is risky. Can you guarantee the people are OK and not bringing the virus here?” “Absolutely,” said Manny. “OK, it’s going to cost mucho bucks,” said Parker. We want $750,000 in cash in a plain suitcase. The man you represent, Edmund, will leave it by the plane upon landing and walk away. You’ll be here to pick him up.”
Manny could tell from the tight expression that it was nonnegotiable. “Sure thing, it’s a deal, Parker.” “Manny, there is one other thing. They have to come when we are on duty. One of us will man the control room. Have them call in and say “Flight 210 from the States. We’ll turn on the low level runway lights. One other thing, they have to arrive here two nights from today between 3:00 to 4:00 AM. Otherwise, we have no deal. We don’t want anyone noticing this entry. We’ll tell them where to park the plane so it blends in with the other ones here while it unloads. The plane will have to leave promptly after being refueled. We can’t have an unexplained plane sitting around.”
“Thanks, Parker,” said Manny as he walked away. He was pleased. He would say the cost was one million dollars, $750,000 in cash and the other $250,000 wired to the Island Administrator’s secret account. Of course the bank routing number would be his. And he would insist upon no deal until the transfer was verified. “Sweet,” he exclaimed, while walking back to the jeep. He pulled his cell phone out and gave Edmund the information. He could tell the boss was unhappy, but he agreed to the deal. Of course, thought Manny. That kind of money was just loose change to the bastard. I should have made it two million.
Edmund wasn’t happy, but the amount wasn’t any big deal to him. He kept a million in cold, hard cash in the house walk-in safe. He called his Greenwich banker and requested the wire transfer. Edmund knew the bank would be discrete, given the minimum balance to open an account was five million dollars. He was one of their biggest depositors. Next he told Blanche and Jasmine that their departure was delayed. Their personal limo would leave the estate late afternoon after tomorrow and take them to the Teterboro Airport, where their private jet would fly them to St. Croix.
Before Edmund and his family left, he placed the Chief-of-Staff in charge of the mansion. He gave him a bundle of cash to assure things would be well taken care of. “Sure thing, Mr. Smythington; I’ll take care of things until you return. Don’t you worry about anything at all.” For a while, all went well for a few weeks after Edmund Smythington left. But as the virus spread and got closer, the staff got panicky. Finally, they all agreed that they didn’t owe Smythington anything. He always looked down at them and didn’t treat them with respect. It was apparent that money could help buying scarce food and medicine and even protection for their homes and loved ones. In short order they stripped the mansion bare of everything that could be sold and divided up the money. The last one out spread gasoline around several rooms and threw the match. The mansion burned to the ground. Fire departments were too busy with other problems to respond. If Smythington returned and asked questions, they would simply say it was torched when riots started because of the virus. No one would know better.
Arriving at Teterboro Airport, Edmund and his family boarded the private jet and Edmund went forward to the cockpit to talk with the pilot, Richard English. English had been in Edmund’s employ for many years and was highly trusted. English had filed flight plans to St. Croix after Edmund paid the tower officer a hefty “fee” to overlook the fact that the St. Croix airport was closed to air traffic. English said, “Mr. Smythington, we’ll leave here at 11:00 pm. That should get us there at the start of the landing open window with time to spare, should we be delayed.” “Good,” said Edmund. He went back to the dining area of the plane where dinner was being served. Later, they went back to their seats and strapped in. Jasmine decided to text Eric before they took off. She didn’t get a response back. Funny, thought Jasmine. He always gets back to me immediately. Truth be known, Eric was very sick and having trouble breathing. He had become infected with the Blue Flu virus from his city girlfriend.
Around 3:00 am, English approached the St. Croix airport and radioed the control tower. Response was rapid. “Flight 210 you have clearance to land immediately. Once you land, taxi your plane over to the row of parked planes. Have your passengers disembark and then take off after we refuel you and return to the States.” English wasn’t happy about this arrangement. He would have preferred a rest here before leaving. On the other hand, Mr. Smythington had given him a nice cash bonus for being so cooperative. As Edmund walked up to the exit, English was outside unloading the luggage. “Mr. Smythington, when should I come back for you?” Edmund responded, “Not for a few months. We’ll be in touch with you.” English smiled and re-boarded the plane. As he did so, the Land Rover driven by Manny pulled up nearby.
Manny hurried over and grabbed the luggage, bringing it to the vehicle in a couple of trips. The entire luggage was packed in the back, except for the large case held by Edmund. After the plane taxied away, Manny turned to Edmund. “Open the case. I’ve been requested to make sure it contains the cash. Once it was opened, Manny looked it over and pulled out his cell phone. “It’s all there.” “Good, leave the case there and drive away.” After the Land Rover pulled away, Parker and Nate drove over and grabbed the suitcase. They were all smiles. As Manny drove the family to their island home, Jasmine felt her throat getting raspy. She thought nothing of it.
The next morning, Jasmine felt worse and called her mom. “Dear, you have a fever. Your head is hot. I’ll get you some water and aspirin. If you don’t feel better by this afternoon, dad will call Dr. Cafflin in town. Jasmine nodded and took the aspirin and water. In a little while, she tried to text Eric. No service available was showing on the screen. Damn, she thought. She walked over to the land line phone and called Eric’s house. The phone rang many times and no answer. There wasn’t even a way to leave a message. Jasmine climbed back into bed. By that afternoon she was coughing, felt hot and hurt all over, and was swallowing large globs of mucous.
Edmund picked up the house phone and called Dr. Susan Cafflin. He explained the problem with Jasmine. However, to his huge annoyance, Dr. Cafflin started asking him questions that had nothing to do with Jasmine’s illness. “Mr. Smythington, when did you get here? The airport was closed a week ago and I am pretty sure your family wasn’t here. It’s a small island and gossip would have reached me.” “Doctor, that is irrelevant. My daughter is sick and needs medical attention. In the past, I donated money to charitable causes of your choice in St. Croix. I now expect you to get out here and treat my daughter. End of discussion, period.” “OK, Mr. Smythington. I’ll finish up office hours here and be there in one and a half hours. Good day.” Edmund hung up with a self-satisfied smile. Money always trumps all else, he thought.
Dr. Cafflin had no intention whatsoever of going to the house. She needed to buy some time. She immediately called the Chief of Police, Thomas Clayton. “Chief Clayton, we have a serious health problem, possibly Blue Flu virus”. Dr. Cafflin went on to explain about Mr. Smythington’s daughter. The Chief responded. “We had a call from one of the residents near the airport swearing a plane landed. However, he was very drunk. Parker and Nate were on duty there that night and said no plane landed. They said they had warned one away.”
“Now I’m thinking that Parker an
d Nate lied, so I think we have to assume the worst possible case. The worst case scenario would be a plane landed with Mr. Smythington and his family and his daughter has the Blue Flu virus. We’ll sort all this out later. If it turns out to be some normal flu, we’ll apologize and move on. If not, better safe than sorry. Let me handle this one from this point on. Will it work to confine all possible contacts in their homes for a few weeks?” Dr. Cafflin thought for a minute and replied. “Yes, they’ll either be dead or in normal health by that time. However, confinement must be rigid. No contact whatsoever. You can leave food on the doorstep. I would also advise that anyone attempting to leave their premises be shot on sight. As the island’s main health officer, it can be justified under our Emergency Health Act.”
Chief Clayton knew Parker and Nate. He had no doubts about their willingness to take a bribe, if it was big enough. He had the dispatcher request three squad cars to meet him at the station right away. He explained the problem and the plan for confinement and the need for three rotating shifts around the clock. He would arrange for the other shifts later. They drove off and arrived shortly at Parker’s house. Parker would most likely be home, given his night shift duty at the airport.
The Chief called Parker with his cell phone. Fortunately, the island service was still working well. Parker answered with a sleepy voice. “Parker, this is Chief Clayton. You let Mr. Smythington and family land at the airport last night. Don’t bother denying it. They might have brought in the Blue Flu virus. Given your contact, you are confined to your house, as is your entire family. Are any of them out of the house right now?” Parker answered in a very shaky voice. “Yes, my wife is here, but my daughter is in the yard.” “OK, Parker. You call her in the house from the back door. He motioned one of the officers to go round back and watch the door. Tell her to come in the house and ignore the officer in the back. Then I want you to come to the front door with your wife and daughter so that I can see you all. Then close the door and stay there for two weeks. If anyone tries to leave, they will be shot. Understand?”
“Yes, Chief; I understand.” “We’ll talk about your criminal actions, your job, and the bribe money in two weeks, assuming you live that long. There is another thing. Was anyone else at the airport with you, Nate, and the Smythingtons? Think carefully. It will go a lot easier on you if you level with me now.” “Chief, Manny was there. There was also the plane’s pilot outside the plane briefly, but he flew back with the plane.” The Chief responded, “By the way, my officers will have a crew out here shortly to board up your back door and all windows except for those in the front. Your front door will be left as is. If you need food, call the Station. Don’t call Nate or Manny, if you know what’s good for you. We’ll talk again, Parker.” One car remained with the two officers watching the front and back of the house. They were armed with shotguns. Parker looked out the window and knew it was serious. He dreaded explaining all this to the wife and daughter.
The Chief drove off with the two remaining squad cars. Nate went through the same routine. The Chief confirmed that Manny was involved again. He left the second squad car with its officers and radioed the Station. “Have two more squad cars meet me on the main road to Mr. Smythington’s house about one mile before the mansion.” The Chief hoped that Manny was in the care taker’s cottage and all the Smythingtons were still there. Otherwise, this problem would rapidly become worse.
The convoy pulled up to the Smythington house and some of the officers fanned out to cover the exits. Manny watched all this activity from his caretaker’s cottage window. This didn’t look good, he thought, especially the shotgun toting officers around his cottage. After calling Manny and explaining his confinement, Chief Clayton called Mr. Smythington. He explained that the Doctor was not coming and the need for confinement. It didn’t go well with Smythington. He ranted and raved. “I’ll sue the shit out of all of you. I’ll lawyer you all to death and into the poor house. When I’m done, you won’t have a job or a pot to piss in. You can’t confine me and not treat my daughter. I’ll make some calls. You haven’t heard the last from me.” Chief Clayton left and once back at the Station made arrangements for the various covering shifts for the next two weeks. He knew a lot of overtime pay would be needed. He already saw some use for the bribe money.
Edmund made many phone calls. It was to no avail. None of his contacts in government or even the shady ones were willing to help get him out of there. For once, his money could not buy what he wanted. His lawyers were of little use. By the time they could bring legal action, the confinement would be over. Well, they would have plenty to do after that time. He would squash these people like bugs. Edmund thought of leaving, but the officers with shotguns looked very serious. No sense pushing his luck. He would avoid all contact with Jasmine and Blanche. He’d be fine in two weeks. Unfortunately for Edmund, Jasmine did have the Blue Flu virus as did Blanche next and finally Edmund. Jasmine and Blanche died in the house. Edmund was killed by shotgun fire as he tried to drive away from the garage in a mad dash to reach the town’s clinic.
The video now transitioned to a living room where Peter Garber picked up his revolver and checked to make sure it was loaded. Today was payback day. He thought back to when it all started downhill. His wife Muriel was walking the dog. Out of nowhere, a black Escalade came roaring down the street going way too fast. It went out of control as the driver tried to turn the corner. Instead it bounced over the curb and struck his wife and dog. Both were killed instantly. The driver was high on some new designer drug, one not yet even known to the authorities. Peter had just retired from the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, planning to spend happy travel years with Muriel. That dream was wiped out in the blink of an eye.
The trial was a farce. The kid’s father was the richest man in Boston. He owned extensive real estate, several construction companies, and was said to control the city’s gambling. It was rumored that he belonged to the Mafia, but no tangible proof existed. Anthony Balfano hired the best attorneys. The defense was that Balfano junior was given the drug unknowingly at a party so he wasn’t responsible for his actions. Technically, the chemical wasn’t even recognized as a drug by the authorities. One juror, Frank Travers, carried the day, convincing the other members that it was a tragic accident. The kid walked with a wrist slap. Peter Garber was filled with anger and a desire for revenge.
He used his connections with his former Pinkerton employee. He had a few friends there that were sympathetic, knowing that justice was not delivered. His friends dug into computer records, hacking into banks, and doing some surveillance. They determined that a large monetary transfer went from Balfano to Travers two weeks after the trial. They had photographs of Balfano and Travers having coffee together at a Starbucks two weeks after the trial. A thick envelope was shown in one of the photos. Peter decided going to the cops was useless. Some fancy lawyers would get him off. Peter decided he would kill Balfano, his kid, and Travers. He hatched a plan. It took a few weeks before Peter was convinced he could trust the contact recommended to him by a Pinkerton agent that had some shady connections.
Peter sat in the rearmost booth at the local bar. He nursed his whiskey on the rocks. He saw his contact walk in the front door and head to the booth. No one knew his real name, as Gonzo was all you were going to get. Gonzo had been a demolitions expert with the Army. Gonzo and the Army parted under less than favorable conditions. Gonzo’s skills were useful, but expensive and illegal to both him and the buyer if he got caught. Gonzo had also checked out Peter before meeting him. He knew what Peter wanted and didn’t blame him. The system had failed Peter. “Hey, Gonzo, let’s have a drink to seal the deal?” “I’ll have what you have.” Peter signaled the bar for another drink. They both downed their drinks in silence. Peter handed Gonzo a thick envelope filled with cash. It was a large part of his bank balance. Gonzo slid the shopping bag with the magnetic bomb toward Peter and said “Good luck.”
Boston was now in the early throes of closure becau
se of the Blue Flu virus, but life went on for now. Peter had gotten a job at Balfano junior’s favorite night club. He guarded the vehicles in the parking lot. The pay was shitty, tips weren’t that good, and the hours were miserable. They were happy to give him the job, especially since he had a valid pistol permit, making him a very credible employee. His Pinkerton experience sealed the deal. On his fourth night there, Peter saw the black Escalade arrive. Peter had grown a beard, dyed his hair, and now wore his hair long. He doubted that Balfano junior would recognize him. The kid didn’t even look at him. Peter parked the car in the far corner in a blind spot to the surveillance camera. He bent down at the rear of the Escalade and pulled the metal box from his coat. Peter reached under the rear and heard the satisfying metallic click as the magnetized bomb attached next to the gas tank. Peter smiled as he fingered the remote in his pocket. One push of the button would ignite the detonator causing the C-4 to explode. The amount was enough to total the car and its passenger.
Around 1:00 AM Balfano junior stumbled out high on something. Peter retrieved the car and Balfano junior got in. “Cheap bastard didn’t even give me a tip,” mumbled Peter. Peter hurried to his car and drove away following the Escalade. He knew he would get shit for leaving a little early before the last car was gone, but he was far beyond caring. He trailed behind waiting for the right spot. He didn’t want to hurt any innocent person. In a few blocks the Escalade stopped at a red light. The intersection was empty. Peter pressed the button and watched as the car became an airborne fireball.
Peter drove back to the night club and parked. The last two cars were still there. Good, he thought. If I am questioned, I can say I left to get some coffee to stay awake. He heard the roar of sirens in the distance. “Good luck with that,” he smiled. The next day the Boston Globe carried a headline “Possible Mob Hit?” Peter smiled as he read the morning paper. Now for part two, he thought.
The Manhattan Incident Page 19