“Are you alone?”
“Yeah. Benson’s still inside meeting with the warden and that bitch, Gloria Jimenez, from the press office.”
“What happened with Feodor?”
“Pavel liked Benson and agreed to do the interview. He’s gonna talk to Peter Sampson.”
“That’s not good, Frankie. You couldn’t stop it?”
There was a long pause as the public defender lit a cigarette, his hands shaking uncontrollably. “I tried, Nikolai, really, but Pavel won’t listen to me anymore.”
“The Pakhan’s gonna be pissed when I tell him. What have you found out about Benson?”
“Only that’s he’s real good at what he does. Nothing else. So what are you gonna do, Nikolai?”
“I’m not sure yet. I need to know more about Benson.”
“And what do you want me to do?” Frankie said nervously.
“Come up with a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
“Isn’t that obvious, Frankie? Mull it over a little while and then get back to me.”
The connection went dead.
Frankie dropped his cell phone on the passenger seat and tossed his cigarette out the window. A single bead of sweat collected on his forehead, then slowly dripped down his cheek and onto his shirt. What the fuck was Nikolai suggesting? What does he want me to do? There was only one thing he could think of, and that, to Frankie O’Malley, was unimaginable.
He turned on the air conditioning and waited for Ethan.
Then he fumbled for another cigarette and began to panic.
CHAPTER 12
IT WAS AFTER ELEVEN WHEN Ethan opened the front door. His apartment was dark and oppressively quiet as he walked from one room to the next turning on the lights. Luke was asleep in his bedroom, Holly lying on the floor, thumping her tail like a pendulum. He reached down, stroked her head, and whispered, “Good girl, Holly. Good girl. Don’t wake little Luke.” Then he straightened the covers and quietly backed out of the room, glancing at his son one last time before searching for Sarah. He found her sitting on the couch in his study, surrounded by documents, a small lamp casting a narrow beam of light on her face. Her eyes were red and bleary, and he knew she’d been crying.
“Ethan, where have you been? I tried calling, but you didn’t answer. I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I was at Rikers Island all afternoon meeting with Pavel Feodor. Then I had to go back to the office and brief Paul and Lenny. Tell them I’d ironed out the last details of the interview. You know what it’s like. I couldn’t get out of there.”
“But I left you a half dozen messages. Why didn’t you call me back?”
“Guess I lost track of time,” Ethan said, feeling ashamed. He’d listened to her voice mails and knew she wanted to talk. Why hadn’t he called her back? Had he been too busy? Too preoccupied with his story? Or was he worried she wanted to check on him and see if he was out drinking?
Sarah searched his face imploringly. “I just got off the phone with Mindy.”
“You talked to Mindy?”
“Yeah,” anger creeping into her voice. “She said you’d left the office hours ago. At dinnertime. Where’d you go, Ethan?”
He looked down at the floor.
“Did you go to McGlades?”
He heaved a deep sigh. “Yes. I stopped in for a couple of drinks. It was a long day.”
“I don’t care about your long day. Tell me. Are you drunk?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, that’s just great,” she said furiously. “You promised me you wouldn’t go back there, then you break your word and get drunk at that terrible place. Why’d you lie to me? I’m your wife, Ethan.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say. He just knew it was time for the truth.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call, and I’m sorry about my drinking.” He fumbled for a cigarette. “It’s hard to explain, but I haven’t been myself lately. I try putting on a front so everybody thinks I’m still this hotshot producer who slays dragons and gets to the truth, but I don’t have the same confidence anymore. When I meet with Paul, he yells and screams and barks orders at me. It never used to bother me, but now I get sarcastic and combative and sometimes say things I shouldn’t.”
“Are you in trouble at the office?” she said worriedly.
“Maybe,” he said, disheartened. “Paul put me on notice when I started the Feodor story.”
“Was he serious?”
“I think so. He told me if I didn’t get my act together, he’d fire me.”
Sarah sat quietly, tucking her feet under her body, waiting for him to go on.
“His threat is one of the reasons I’ve been working so hard. I wanna prove to him I’m still the best producer on his staff. And I wanna prove to myself I can still do it.”
“And that’s why you’re drinking so much?”
“One of the reasons. It helps me relax. It helps me forget. And it helps me sleep. I can’t sleep anymore without the scotch.”
Sarah leaned forward. “Ethan, why haven’t you told me any of this? Why’d you hide it from me? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know, babe.” He wiped a tear dripping down her cheek. “I guess I’m trying to figure it out myself, and I know there’s no reason to feel the way I do, but I’m scared on the inside.” He paused and looked into her eyes. “Sarah, sweetheart, I know I’ve been shutting you out and making excuses and not always telling you the truth. And I know I’ve been wrapped up in my own world and not spending enough time with you.” He paused and kissed her hand. “It’s a problem, and I have to change.”
“Your drinking isn’t our only problem,” she said, overwhelmed. “We need to talk about Luke. He’s hurting too. You don’t spend enough time with him either, and he misses you terribly.”
“But I was here last night.”
“That’s one night. That’s not enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tonight, when you didn’t come home, he kept saying, ‘I wish Dad didn’t work all the time. I wish he was here with me.’ Then he moped around the apartment until I put him to bed.”
“Is he okay?”
“Of course he’s okay. He’s six and forgets things quickly. But I’m worried about the long-term effects your erratic behavior is going to have on him.”
“And how about you?” Ethan said, feeling like a failure as a father and a husband. “Can you forgive me for my bad behavior?”
“I don’t know, Ethan,” Sarah said, searching his face. “I can’t live like this anymore—waiting for you to call, waiting for you to come home, not knowing if you’re out drinking at that bar. It makes me so angry.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah.”
“You keep saying that, and you should be. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to Luke. He thinks you’re mad at him. That he’s done something wrong. He doesn’t understand what going on.”
“I’ll talk to him. Tell him I’m planning to spend a lot more time with him.”
“You’ll have to do more than that. You’ll have to show him you really mean it.” More tears welled up in her eyes.
“Sarah, can you forgive me for today?” Ethan said, trying to read the emotions flooding her face.
“I don’t know. I’m so confused. You’re not the same man I fell in love with.”
“Do you still love me?” he said, his heart sinking.
“I still love you. But it’s getting harder. I hate your drinking.”
“I know. I know. I’m gonna stop.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t know if I believe you.”
“I’ll see somebody who can help me,” he said desperately. “Maybe a shrink.”
“I’ve already found somebody, Ethan,” she said coolly, getting up and walking over to his desk. “Guess you didn’t find his business card buried in all this mess. I left it here a couple of days ago.” She handed him the card and sat back down.
Et
han stared at the psychiatrist’s name, Dr. Fred Schwartz, a specialist in drug addiction and alcohol abuse.
“He’s one of the best,” Sarah said, “and I’ve already talked to him. He’s waiting for you to call.”
Ethan put the card in his shirt pocket and put his arm around her. “I’ll make an appointment to see him. Very soon. I promise.”
“I want to believe you, Ethan. Please don’t disappoint me, and please don’t disappoint Luke.” She gazed into his eyes, then placed her head on his shoulder.
Ethan ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her neck, kissing her cheeks and her eyelids and her lips. He held her tenderly, trying to cast down the wall that had grown between them, knowing he had to get his life back on track, and knowing there wasn’t much time before it was too late. “Sarah, I love you. With all my heart. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose you either, Ethan. Promise me you’ll change.”
“I promise, Sarah. I’ll work hard and find some way to stop drinking.” Then, as he was about to kiss her again, his iPhone rang, breaking the moment, pushing them apart. He looked at the screen and sighed. “I need to take this,” he said, walking over to his desk.
“Who is it?” Sarah said, searching his face.
“It’s Mindy,” he said as he answered the phone. “Hey, I’m with Sarah. Hang on a second.” He put down his iPhone and walked back to the couch. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, babe, really, I didn’t.”
“I know that, Ethan,” she said, touching his cheek. “Now talk to Mindy, but come to bed soon.” Ethan gazed after her longingly as she walked out of his study—her silky blonde hair flowing down her back, her lithe body peeking through her nightgown. Then he remembered Mindy. “Sorry you had to wait.”
“Jeez, Ethan, I heard you and Sarah. Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
“No. No. We were just trying to clear the air, but we’re done. So it’s okay to talk now. What do you have for me, Mindy?”
“I just got off the phone with David. He tried calling but couldn’t get through to you. So he called me instead.”
“What did he want?” Ethan said, sitting down at his desk.
“He’s been digging into the financial records of Fernelli’s Beef and Poultry.”
Ethan pulled out his iPad and began taking notes. “Who owns it?”
“A company called Zurich Foods,” she said. “It’s a big international conglomerate based in Europe with several holdings here in the states. One of them is Fernelli’s.”
“Anything else?” he said, typing away furiously.
“It’s a public company. So he was able to download their earnings reports and tax filings. There didn’t seem to be anything irregular, so he called a source at the SEC who said the company is perfectly above board.”
“So how does Zurich Foods fit into our story?”
“He’s not sure yet. But he found a contact here in New York who may be able to help us.”
“Who is it?” Ethan said, his mind racing as he reached for a pack of Marlboros and pulled out a cigarette.
“A private investigator named Lloyd Howard. The guy says he’s got information on Fernelli’s that’ll turn our story upside down.”
“What information?”
“Howard wouldn’t tell David on the telephone. He wants to meet you in person.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock in Brooklyn. Just you and David. And he wants to be paid.”
“How much?” Ethan said, already worrying about the extra cost to his production budget.
“Five thousand dollars up front and in cash.”
“That’s a shitload of money. Paul’s gonna have a coronary.”
“I know. But David says the guy comes highly recommended by his sources. He may be more than just a good lead for us.”
Ethan paused before making the decision. “Let’s do it. I wanna talk to this guy. You’ll have to hustle in the morning to push the paperwork through the system and get the cash. Put him on the books as a consultant.”
“I’ll get the signatures,” she said, “but you have to get Paul to approve it.”
“I’ll take care of Paul,” Ethan said directly. “Call David back and tell him to set up the meeting. Make sure he gets Howard to agree to some extra work for the five thousand dollars, and put it into the contract. That’ll make it easier for Paul to swallow.”
“What time are you heading to the office in the morning?”
“I’m not,” Ethan said, looking around the room at the stacks of file folders. “I’m gonna work from home and finish going through the rest of the court docket.”
“Will you have time to pick up the money?”
“No. David’ll have to bring it with him.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of everything on this end and email you an address as soon as we know where Howard wants to meet.”
“You’re the best, Mindy. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Ethan clicked off the phone, his mind a jumble of thoughts. What in God’s name could this guy know about Fernelli’s Beef and Poultry that would blow his story wide open? Was it evidence Detective Jenkins or Nancy McGregor had buried during the investigation? Was it something else? He stared at a bottle of Black Label sitting on his desk, desperately wanting a drink. Then he remembered his promise to Sarah.
Flipping off the lights, he padded to the bedroom, climbed out of his clothes, and slipped into bed. Sarah was lying on her side, still awake, waiting for him. He snuggled up close, wrapping his arms and legs around her, their bodies becoming one.
Slowly his eyes grew heavy, his breathing rhythmic. And he drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 13
ETHAN SPLASHED THROUGH A wave of puddles dotting the sidewalk as he made his way through the raindrops to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Dexter’s Diner on Metropolitan Avenue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. A cold front had ripped through the city, bringing heavy rain and wind and dropping the temperature nearly twenty degrees. He pushed through the front door, shaking off his raincoat, and walked to the back of the room, past a dozen empty tables covered in dirty dishes and leftover food. There was nobody around to clean up the mess as he slipped into a red vinyl booth, pulled out his iPad, and waited. Fifteen minutes later, the front door swung open, and David, soaked to the bone, shuffled in. After scanning the empty restaurant, he found Ethan and sat down. “Sorry I’m late,” he said guardedly as he looked around at the filth.
“No problem,” Ethan said. “But why are we here? This place is a dump.”
“Because this is where Lloyd Howard wanted to meet. It must be part of his turf.”
Ethan frowned. “Well, I wish he could’ve picked someplace a little cleaner. Do you want coffee while we wait?”
“That would be great.”
Ethan waved for a waitress—a Goth teenager dressed in black with black eyeliner, black lipstick, and black polish on her fingers and toes—and ordered a pot of coffee and two cups.
“So how’d you find this guy?” Ethan said as he peeked at a menu.
“I know you talked to Mindy last night,” David said, “but the short of it is my source at the SEC knew this group supervisor at the DEA and gave me his number. So I called, and he told me that he’d been watching Fernelli’s for years, that he didn’t have anything solid, but that Lloyd Howard—the PI we’re about to meet—was one of his informants.”
“And that’s how you found Howard?”
“Yup.”
“And he can be trusted?”
“My DEA source says he’s not only trustworthy but knows more about the illegal drug trade in New York than most of his on-the-ground agents.”
The Goth waitress came back with the coffee and placed two cups on the table. Ethan’s was dirty. So was David’s. He rolled his eyes, then said curiously, “So who is this guy, Lloyd Howard?”
David grinned and pulled out a thick folder stuffed with documents. “I ran a comp
uter check on him and found out he’s a former New York City detective who was once assigned to narcotics out of the Ninetieth Precinct here in Brooklyn. He spent years working undercover—infiltrating street gangs. Remember the Jose Sanchez bust a couple of years ago?”
Ethan racked his brain but had no memory of the story. “Okay. We’re not playing Jeopardy. Tell me about Sanchez.”
“He was the boss of a big-time drug operation in Bushwick. He sold heroin, cocaine, and methamphetamines. His pushers would hang out around schools and sell dope to the kids. The community was in an uproar, pressuring the cops to do something about the problem. But Sanchez eluded the authorities for years. Then he was finally busted. It made headlines in the New York Post, the Daily News, and all the other tabloids.”
“How’s Lloyd Howard connected to Sanchez?” Ethan said, flipping through the articles.
“He was the cop who brought him down. He spent six months undercover as a member of Sanchez’s gang before the NYPD set up a sting, sent in the cavalry, and made the arrest.”
“So he was a narc,” Ethan said, still wondering how Howard could help with their story. “Why’d he leave the force?”
“He told me he’d come too close to being made too many times. Thought his luck was running out and didn’t want to end up in the East River. So he quit and became a private investigator. He says it’s the smartest decision he’s ever made. Makes twice the money, takes half the risks.”
“I still don’t understand what this guy brings to the table.”
“He says he’s got information on Feodor and would be willing to share it with us if the money’s right.”
“Did you bring the cash?” Ethan said.
“I picked it up from Mindy before I left,” David said. “The five thousand dollars is in my briefcase, along with the paperwork Howard needs to sign to become a GBS News consultant.”
“I hope this guy’s worth it. I had a bitch of a time getting Paul to agree to the cash. He said it creates all kinds of problems with the IRS, as well as with the network brass who watch every penny we spend. Did we write a clause into the contract stating Howard would do extra work for all that money? I told Paul that’s part of the deal.”
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