Counting to Infinity

by J. L. Abramo

  “And when Lansdale misses finishing me off with the bomb, why doesn’t he come right back after me? I was an easy target—for the past two months I could hardly get out of my own way,” I said. “Why would he wait until I’m back on my feet? And why would he send a measly thumb breaker to call on me tonight—no offense, Ralph—and not a bona fide choirboy-looking assassin?”

  “The stakes have been raised somewhat for Lansdale since the explosion,” said Joey. “I’ve been tossing bait into the slimy pond that Lansdale hides in. And sending Battle to visit you tonight is clearly a nibble. Which brings us around to why I’ve brought you all together.”

  “It’s about time,” said Ray Boyle, who was up and pacing again.

  Joey Russo let it pass.

  “Our goal is to destroy Max Lansdale,” said Joey, “to strip Lansdale of everything, his power, his privilege, and his protection. And I believe we can do that. But there are two things we will not do. We will not kill Lansdale. If I wanted him dead, it would have been over and done two months ago. I have something much more dismal in mind for Max Lansdale. I need to be sure that everyone here understands and agrees.”

  Russo waited. No one disagreed and he continued.

  “The second condition,” Joey said, “is that Lansdale will not be handed over to the police. Not the Chicago PD, not the San Francisco PD, not the LAPD. I have very good reasons to insist on this provision, personal reasons, and it is nonnegotiable. If any of you find this problematic, speak now and we can all go home.”

  All eyes turned to Ray Boyle.

  “No problem,” Ray said.

  “In order to proceed we need to take what we know as fact, decide what these facts imply, and then accept the implications as fact. We need to begin with convictions, a set of givens. From what we learned from Kit Carson and from Harry Chandler, we know that Randolph Lansdale did not commit suicide. There were no fingerprints on the weapon, no silencer, and Carson did not hear a gunshot. No one had entered Randolph’s office from the reception area and no one was present in the office suite other than Carson and Max Lansdale. Max Lansdale murdered his brother. Fact.”

  Joey waited. There was no argument.

  “I visited John Carlucci at San Quentin six weeks ago and asked for a favor,” Joey continued. “I asked Johnny Boy to find out if Max Lansdale had any business with organized crime and, if so, when it had begun. Tony Carlucci called me last week with information from his brother. Eight years ago, Max Lansdale was approached by a group of ‘businessmen’ from New York City. Lansdale was offered a contract to launder cash, a great deal of cash, at twenty-five percent commission. Max was told that he could expect his end to be at least a million every year. Lansdale brought the proposition to his brother. Max needed Randolph’s support to get it past the old man, Simon Lansdale, who would never have let the brothers get anywhere near it. Randolph said no way. Max said okay, forget that I asked. Less than two weeks later, Simon Lansdale died in his sleep. Max began to launder gambling money. Carlucci couldn’t say exactly how Lansdale pulls it off. Anonymous cash donations passed through a maze of phony nonprofit corporations, tax-exempt grants for community outreach programs, smoke and mirrors, whatever, it doesn’t much matter. In any event, according to Ralph, Max Lansdale is in New York as we speak picking up two hundred fifty thousand dollars in undeclared cash from a Connecticut casino. Max killed his father. We’re going to consider this a fact.”

  “What a guy,” said Darlene, turning to Ralph Battle. “How could you even bear to look at a man like Lansdale, let alone work for the sick bastard?”

  “Simon Lansdale took me in from the streets when I was a kid,” Battle answered, hardly above a whisper. “The man was like a father to me. I never suspected that his death was anything but natural. I want Max Lansdale as badly as anyone here.”

  “Why did Lansdale send Battle here tonight?” I asked.

  “I took the liberty of contacting Max Lansdale on your behalf, Jake,” said Joey. “I told Lansdale that you needed to see him about a former Chicago medical examiner who died mysteriously in Mexico and left a copy of an autopsy report in a safe-deposit box for his son. A report indicating that Simon Lansdale died of suffocation, along with a statement explaining how this report was replaced by a false report and why. I told Lansdale that you were representing Dr. Kearney’s son in negotiating a purchase price. I was sure that Lansdale wouldn’t do anything to hurt you until he had more information, though I’ll have to admit I didn’t expect Ralph to show up so quickly.”

  “Lansdale was pretty shook up about it,” said Battle. “He was just about to leave for New York; he had me take the first flight out here. And he’ll be expecting me to call him sometime tonight.”

  “When does he get back from New York?” asked Joey. “Tuesday night.”

  “Call Lansdale now,” said Joey. “Tell him that Diamond verified he has access to the documents and that Jake wants a meeting with him on Friday. Jake, go with Ralph in case Lansdale wants to hear it from you. I’ll get another pot of coffee going, and then we’ll work out the details.”

  Lansdale did want to speak to me. I told him what he needed to make his problem go away. One hundred thousand dollars in cash by Friday. I told him I would be coming up to Chicago and that I would call him to arrange a meeting when I arrived in town.

  When Battle and I came back to the front room, Joey was pouring coffee all around and Vinnie had broken into the package of anisette toast Darlene and I had picked up earlier at the grocery.

  “Max Lansdale murdered his father and brother,” said Joey Russo. “This is our working hypothesis. Now, all we need to do is to convince a certain person that these are truly the facts. A certain person who will not believe a single word of it unless it comes straight from Max’s own lips. What we need to do is to get Max Lansdale to confess to patricide and fratricide, make sure the choirboy hit man doesn’t get in the way, and be extremely careful not to step on the toes of anyone with Connecticut casino interests, and we all need to be in place by the time Max Lansdale gets back to Chicago Tuesday night.”

  “That’s all?” Darlene said.

  “I think that’s it,” said Joey. “Am I forgetting anything, Sonny?”

  “I don’t think so, Joey,” said Sonny. “I thought that you handled the plot synopsis pretty well.”

  “Good,” said Joey Russo. “Now all we have to do is get all of our roles straight.”

  It was nearly two in the morning. Joey Russo and I stood on the front porch, watching the two cars pull away.

  Darlene was heading home to pack a travel bag and drop the dog off with her sister. Tom Romano would be packing as well, after dropping Vinnie off at home. Darlene and Tom would be on the first flight to Chicago Monday morning. Vinnie would be flying to Chicago on Tuesday night.

  Sonny had left earlier to drive Ray Boyle back to his hotel. Ray would be returning to Los Angeles. Sonny would be flying to New York City on Monday afternoon.

  Willie Dogtail was asleep on the sofa inside. Willie would be driving home to Santa Monica to keep an eye on Kit Carson, in case she needed to be brought into the mix. We hoped to avoid involving her.

  Ralph Battle had gone back to his hotel.

  “Do you think Battle will play along?” I asked Joey while we waited for Sonny to return.

  “Yes. I think we convinced Battle that he doesn’t have much of a future with Max Lansdale. And when Ralph understood that Max had killed the old man, he jumped on board with both feet. Ralph will do just fine.”

  “Joey.”

  “Yes, Jake.”

  “Why are you taking this on?”

  “I want to help you get the fuck who murdered Sally.”

  “I’m sure you do, Joey, and I appreciate the help,” I said, “but there’s something personal in this for you—you said so yourself.”

  “If things go well, you will know everything in less than a week, Jake,” Joey said. “Can you give me that much time?”

 
“Sure.”

  “Good,” said Joey. “Here’s Sonny. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Joey went down to the car and climbed in beside Sonny.

  I lit a cigarette as I watched them drive off.

  Part Four

  Ten to Infinity

  Twenty

  Monday morning. Chicago.

  “That’s her,” said Eddie Hand.

  Tom Romano and Darlene peered out the window of the bagel shop. A young woman was stepping out of a taxi in front of the office building across South Wacker Drive.

  “Her name is Jill Ballard. With Lansdale, and Battle both gone, she should be alone in the office,” said Eddie.

  Eddie Hand had collected Tom and Darlene at O’Hare an hour earlier. They had come directly downtown and taken a table at the window of the bagel shop to await the woman’s arrival. They watched as Ballard walked into the building. Tom Romano wore a dark blue suit; Darlene wore a dark blue dress that nearly matched. Darlene’s hair was pulled back severely and pinned up high on her head. Tom and Darlene wore matching dark glasses.

  “You guys look scary,” said Eddie.

  “Let’s hope so,” said Darlene. “We’ll give Jill a little time to settle in before we spook her.”

  “Do you have everything that you need, Tom?” asked Eddie.

  “Right here,” said Romano, tapping the briefcase on the floor at the foot of his seat.

  “I’m dead tired, and this coffee isn’t cutting it,” said Darlene, removing her glasses. “How do my eyes look?”

  “Perfect,” said Tom Romano.

  “Have you decided on names?” asked Eddie.

  “I’m going with Tom Romano, it will be pretty easy to remember,” said Tom. “How about you, Darlene?”

  “How about Clarice Starling?” said Darlene. “I’m just kidding. I always liked the name Amanda Bonner.”

  “Katharine Hepburn in Adam’s Rib,” said Eddie.

  “That’s very good,” said Darlene. “Do you think Max Lansdale will know it?”

  “How would anyone know it?” asked Tom Romano.

  Thirty minutes later, Tom Romano and Darlene walked into the reception area of Lansdale’s office suite. They carried overcoats on their arms; Romano held a briefcase. Jill Ballard looked up from her desk as they came in.

  “Can I help you?” Ballard asked.

  “Is Mr. Lansdale available?” asked Darlene.

  “No. Mr. Lansdale will be out of town until tomorrow evening,” said the receptionist. “Would you like me to set up an appointment?”

  “I’m Agent Bonner; this is Agent Romano,” Darlene said, “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  Darlene flashed a badge, something that Ray Boyle had scared up for the occasion. Jill Ballard’s eyes went wide.

  “FBI?” Ballard said.

  “That’s right,” said Darlene. “We have a warrant to search these offices.”

  Tom Romano removed a convincing facsimile of a search warrant from his suit jacket pocket. Something else that Lieutenant Boyle had pulled out of his hat.

  “I should phone Mr. Lansdale,” said Ballard.

  Well, here goes, thought Darlene.

  “Miss Ballard, calling Mr. Lansdale is not a very good idea,” said Darlene. “You may be in danger or in serious trouble or both. I need to question you while Agent Romano looks through the offices. Please trust me; we are only trying to protect you.”

  “Danger? What kind of danger?”

  “Avoidable danger, Miss Ballard,” said Darlene, “if you’ll try working with us.”

  “What kind of trouble?” asked Ballard. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “Why don’t we leave that up to me to decide,” said Darlene. “Agent Romano, why don’t you get started while Miss Ballard and I have a little talk. I’m sure that she is very willing to cooperate.”

  “I am,” said Ballard, “totally willing.”

  “Good,” said Darlene, “that’s very good.”

  Darlene took a seat opposite Ballard’s desk and pulled a notepad and pencil from her shoulder bag as Romano headed off for Max Lansdale’s private office.

  “Miss Ballard,” Darlene began. “Would it be all right if I call you Jill?”

  “Jill would be fine. Do you have a first name?”

  “Agent will be fine,” Darlene said. “Jill, I need to know about everyone who works out of these offices.”

  “It’s only Mr. Lansdale and me, basically,” Ballard said.

  “Mr. Lansdale works all of his cases alone?” Darlene asked.

  “For the most part. If Mr. Lansdale has a case that requires assistance, I mean beyond what I can provide, he contracts outside help. Someone may use the other private office occasionally, for a place to sit, to use the phone or the computer, but it’s rare. Of course, Mr. Battle is usually close.”

  “Mr. Battle?”

  “Ralph Battle,” said Ballard. “Ralph works for Mr. Lansdale, runs errands and drives, that sort of thing.”

  “Is Battle with Lansdale now?”

  “No, Ralph isn’t with Mr. Lansdale. I don’t really know where Ralph is right now.”

  “Can you tell me where Mr. Lansdale is? You said that he was out of town.”

  “New York City,” Ballard said.

  “Could you be more specific, Jill?”

  “I have everything in my desk drawer. The hotel, the phone number,” said Ballard. “Mr. Lansdale will be there until tomorrow morning, and then he will be driving up to Connecticut and will be flying back here from Hartford. I have that information also.”

  “Good, we’ll be needing that,” said Darlene.

  “Would you like it now?” Ballard asked, reaching for the drawer.

  “No, it can wait. Please leave your hands visible on top of the desk,” said Darlene, thinking it a nice touch.

  Ballard placed both hands palm down on her desktop.

  “Do you have any knowledge, Jill, as to the nature of Mr. Lansdale’s business in New York and Connecticut?”

  “None at all. Mr. Lansdale makes the trip often, but he has never specified his business there.”

  “You said Mr. Lansdale would be returning to Chicago tomorrow evening,” said Darlene. “Will someone be picking Mr. Lansdale up at the airport?”

  “I suppose Ralph will pick him up; he usually does,” said Ballard. The woman’s hands were shaking.

  “Relax. You are doing very well, Jill,” Darlene said, “and we appreciate your help. Would you please show me the information from your desk, Lansdale’s itinerary. Slowly.”

  Jill Ballard carefully opened the drawer and removed a sheet of paper. She handed it across to Darlene.

  “Can we trust you, Jill?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’m going in to check on Agent Romano. Please stay at your desk, and do not use the telephone.”

  “What if the phone rings?”

  “Is there an answering service?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let them pick up the call,” Darlene said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Will you be okay?”

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” said Darlene.

  Both women rose from their seats.

  “It’s there,” said Ballard, indicating a door that displayed a small painted sign: Washroom.

  “I see,” said Darlene, moving toward Max Lansdale’s private office.

  “I could make some fresh coffee,” said Jill Ballard. “It’s hazel nut.”

  “Not for me, thanks,” said Darlene.

  When Darlene walked into Lansdale’s office, Tom Romano was working on the telephone.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m almost done,” said Romano. “We will be able to monitor all calls, incoming and outgoing. How is Ballard doing?”

  “A little shaky, but I think she will work with us,” said Darlene. “Here’s Lansdale’s itinerary. Give Sonny a call. You should catch him before he leaves for the air
port. If he’s not at home, call his cell phone number. Give Sonny all the details on where Lansdale will be and when. I’ll go back and tell Jill what she needs to do.”

  Jill Ballard was sitting back at her desk, both hands in full view. Darlene sat.

  “Jill, we’re almost done here. We need your help.”

  “Can you tell me what this is all about?”

  “The less you know, the better off you will be,” said Darlene. “Where are you from, Jill?”

  “Billings,” Ballard said. “It’s in Montana.”

  “Do you have family there?”

  “Mom and Dad, four sisters, and two brothers.”

  A bit more information than Darlene really needed. Ballard was trying very, very hard to be helpful.

  “Does Mr. Lansdale know where your family lives?”

  “I don’t think so; he never took much interest in my personal life,” said Ballard.

  “Is Lansdale married?” Darlene asked.

  “Widower. His wife passed away about a year ago. Cancer. No children.”

  “And you and he?”

  “Oh, no,” Ballard said. “Nothing like that, honestly. I do my work and I go home.”

  “Jill, we need you to call Mr. Lansdale in New York. We need you to tell him that your mother is ill and that you need to get home to see her and that you need to leave tomorrow afternoon. Don’t say where to. If he asks where, say anything except Billings. Tell Lansdale that you will arrange with a temp agency to have someone come in to cover for you until you return and that you will use the rest of today and tomorrow morning to school the temp in the basic office duties. Tell Lansdale that you expect to return to the office next Monday morning. Are you with me?”

  “Yes,” said Ballard.

  “After you speak with Lansdale, I need you to show me where everything is, anything that Lansdale might ask for in the course of the next few days, and tell me enough to be able to at least handle any telephone calls.”

  “I can do that,” Ballard said.

  “You are being very cooperative, Jill,” Darlene said.