Counting to Infinity

by J. L. Abramo

  “I’m trying very hard, Agent Bonner.”

  “Good. After you give me the lay of the land, you are going to Billings to stay with your family until you hear from us. You should be able to return by next week,” said Darlene. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I’m afraid that you are going to be looking for a new job.”

  “Maybe I could work for the FBI,” Ballard said.

  “You never know,” said Darlene. “Let’s get started.”

  Monday. New York City.

  Vito Ventura stood gazing out of his forty-sixth-floor window down onto Central Park.

  The office intercom buzzed on Ventura’s desk.

  “Yes?”

  “There’s a collect call for you, Mr. Ventura,” said his receptionist, “John Carlucci from California.”

  “Accept the charges and put him through to me,” said Ventura.

  “Vito.”

  “John. It’s been a long time.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “How are they treating you?”

  “Hotel San Quentin has undesirable checkout policies,” said Carlucci. “Listen, Vito, I don’t have very much time to talk.”

  “What can I do for you, John?”

  “It’s what I can do for you, Vito.”

  “Oh?”

  “A little heads-up on your friend Max Lansdale,” said Carlucci. “What about Lansdale?”

  “Word has it that Ralph Battle, Max Lansdale’s muscle, is being looked at for homicides in Santa Monica and San Francisco. I don’t know what kind of a case they have, but I thought that you might want to know. In the event Battle gets tagged and has to do some dealing. If Battle sold out his boss, it could have an effect on your interests.”

  “I suppose it could,” said Ventura.

  “That’s all I can tell you,” said Carlucci.

  “How do you hear these things from the inside?”

  “I hear everything, Vito.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, John, I owe you one.”

  “I won’t forget you said that, Vito,” said Carlucci. “Watch your back.”

  Ventura placed the receiver down, thinking he would have a little extra business to talk about with Lansdale over dinner that evening.

  Monday. San Francisco.

  Joey Russo picked up the phone on his desk after the second ring.

  “Yes.”

  “Joey, this is Tony Carlucci. I just got a call from my brother John. John said that he talked to Ventura in New York and relayed the message.”

  “Great, thanks, Tony,” said Russo. “Tell your brother that I owe him one.”

  “I will, Joey,” said Carlucci, “and Johnny Boy won’t forget that you said so.”

  Joey Russo called Sonny’s cell phone number.

  “Yes?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way out to the airport,” Sonny said. “Tom Romano called. Lansdale is at the Regency Hotel on Sixty-first and Park Avenue. I booked a room there and I’ll follow him to Connecticut in the morning. One of the casinos up there, where Lansdale will likely pick up the cash. I bought a seat on the same flight that Lansdale will be taking from Hartford to Chicago tomorrow evening.”

  “Good.”

  “Is Battle all set?”

  “Yes,” said Russo. “Ralph will be at the airport to pick up Lansdale when the plane gets in from Hartford.”

  “Okay.”

  “Call me when you get into New York, Sonny.”

  “Will do, Joey,” said Sonny, and they ended the call.

  Monday afternoon. Chicago.

  In deference to Darlene, they chose a vegetarian restaurant for a late lunch.

  “So, no snags?” said Eddie, after testing the chili.

  “Not yet,” said Tom Romano, who had ordered the same. “The office phone is taken care of, and I can monitor the phone booth in the bagel shop when the time comes.”

  “And Lansdale’s receptionist?” asked Eddie.

  “Off to Big Sky Country,” said Darlene. “We gave her three thousand in cash, for a plane ticket to Billings and a little cushion while she’s hunting for a new job.”

  “Where’s the cash coming from?” asked Eddie.

  “Joey Russo put together a budget to bankroll the whole setup,” said Darlene. “Joey is confident that one way or another Lansdale will pay back.”

  “How did Lansdale take the news from Ballard about her ailing mother?” asked Eddie.

  “I listened in,” said Darlene. “Max wasn’t thrilled, but he sounded as if he had more important things on his mind. So he’ll be expecting a fill-in receptionist when he comes in to the office on Wednesday. Ballard showed me what was what and then we sent her packing. The place is stocked to the teeth. I wouldn’t mind pillaging the supply cabinets before we go back home to San Francisco. Diamond Investigation would be flush in Post-its and invisible tape for the next ten years. How’s the chili?”

  “Could use some beef,” said Tom. “How is the sun-dried tomato tempeh? What is sun-dried tomato tempeh?”

  “It would be tough to explain. What do we do while we’re waiting for Lansdale to get back?” asked Darlene.

  “We need to run out to the airport to pick up Battle this evening,” said Tom. “Tomorrow evening we go back to O’Hare to pick up Vinnie.”

  “That’s something to look forward to,” said Darlene.

  “Sonny ran it by me when I called,” said Tom. “Vinnie will be getting in just before Sonny and Lansdale arrive. At the airport, I’ll hook up with Sonny. Sonny and I will follow Battle and Lansdale. And you get custody of Vinnie, Darlene.”

  “Terrific,” said Darlene.

  “It sounds like you guys are free tomorrow afternoon,” said Eddie. “How about box seats for the Cubs opener?”

  “Now we’re talking,” said Darlene.

  Monday afternoon. San Francisco.

  Jake Diamond had been leafing through the pages of his old photo album when the phone rang. He put the book down and went to the kitchen. Reaching for the telephone, he glanced at the refrigerator and was reminded that he hadn’t eaten all day.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you had anything to eat today, Jake?”

  “Nope.”

  “How about a late lunch?” asked Joey Russo.

  “Sure. Is everything moving right along?”

  “Seems to be,” said Joey. “Sonny left for New York. Battle is heading back to Chicago late this afternoon.”

  “Have you heard from Darlene?”

  “Sonny heard from Tom Romano,” said Joey. “They’ve secured Fort Lansdale.”

  “I’m missing all of the fun,” said Jake. “It’s nerve-racking. I’m feeling very impatient.”

  “Your time will come, Jake. I’ll pick you up in about thirty minutes.”

  “Where are we going for lunch?”

  “Pac Bell Park,” said Russo. “I have tickets for the Giants’ season opener.”

  “I’m feeling less impatient already,” Jake said.

  Twenty-One

  Monday afternoon. San Francisco.

  Jake Diamond and Joey Russo sat directly behind the Giants’ dugout at Pacific Bell Park. Barry Bonds stood swinging a bat in the on-deck circle thirty feet away.

  “If I eat one more of these garlic fries I’m going to explode,” said Jake, placing the box of potatoes on the ground at his feet.

  “Try not to do it while Bonds is at bat,” said Joey.

  “So, what’s Max Lansdale up to?” asked Jake.

  “He’s in New York. According to his receptionist, he has a dinner engagement with Vito Ventura this evening and he’s off to Connecticut in the morning.”

  “And Sonny?”

  “Sonny will call us from the hotel in New York when he gets in. He’ll follow Lansdale to Connecticut and fly back to Chicago on the same flight.”

  “Will Lansdale get suspicious if he spots Sonny before Chicago?” asked Jake.
>
  “If everything goes as planned, Lansdale will have made Sonny’s acquaintance before they board the plane in Hartford,” said Joey.

  “How will that work?”

  “It will depend on whether or not Ventura is making the trip to Connecticut. Sonny should be able to find out one way or the other and go from there,” said Joey. “I’ll run it all by you in a minute, but right now Bonds is up.”

  Monday. Late afternoon. New York.

  Sonny Badalamenti checked in at the Regency Hotel and went up to his room. He phoned the office of Vito Ventura.

  “Ventura and Associates,” the receptionist answered. “This is Maggie. How can we help you?”

  “Maggie, this is Sonny Badalamenti. I’m an associate of Anthony Carlucci’s. Would it be possible see Mr. Ventura sometime tomorrow?” Sonny asked.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Badalamenti; Mr. Ventura will be away in Baltimore all day tomorrow. I can possibly get you in to see him sometime on Wednesday.”

  “Anytime on Wednesday will be fine,” said Sonny, “the earlier the better. I’ll call back first thing Wednesday morning to find out what you were able to arrange.”

  “Can I tell Mr. Ventura what you wanted to see him about?”

  “Sure,” said Sonny. “Wait. I’m sorry, I have another call that I really need to take. Let me get back to you Wednesday morning. Thank you for your help.”

  Sonny disconnected and went down to the check-in desk.

  “Can I help you, sir?” asked the desk clerk.

  “I’d like to make arrangements for transportation to the casino in Connecticut tomorrow morning.”

  “Which casino?” asked the clerk.

  Sonny told him which casino.

  “Would you like a van ride or a limousine?”

  “I would prefer a limo.”

  “Okay, let’s see what we can do,” said the desk clerk, punching the keyboard of his computer. “I have a limousine leaving at ten in the morning, if you wouldn’t mind sharing a ride with another passenger.”

  “Just one other passenger?” asked Sonny.

  “Yes, only one,” said the clerk. “One of our guests. Mr. Lansdale. Mr. Lansdale specified he would be willing to share the limousine with one other passenger only.”

  “That would be fine,” said Sonny. “Sign me on.”

  Sonny went back up to his hotel room to call Joey Russo.

  After filling Joey in, Sonny phoned Louis Russo. Louie was Joey Russo’s eldest son, Sonny’s brother-in-law, and a resident physician at New York University Medical Center.

  Sonny and Louie made plans for dinner.

  A few blocks away, in his office on Fifty-Ninth Street, Vito Ventura buzzed his assistant.

  “Yes, Mr. Ventura?”

  “Maggie, set up a dinner reservation for two,” Ventura said. “Make it for seven thirty. Someplace fairly close to the office, nice but not too formal. Then please give Max Lansdale a call at the Regency Hotel and let him know where he can meet me.”

  “I’ll take care of it right away, Mr. Ventura.”

  “Thank you, Maggie.”

  “By the way,” said Maggie, “Sonny Badalamenti called earlier. He said he was an associate of Anthony Carlucci’s and that he would like to see you on Wednesday.”

  “Did he state his business?” asked Ventura.

  “No, he said he would call back Wednesday morning.”

  “Next time he calls, put him through to me,” Ventura said.

  “Great game, Joey, thanks,” said Jake as they exited the ballpark.

  “They’re always good when the Giants win,” said Joey. “Listen, Angela is over at our daughter Connie’s house. I expect that there is some serious cooking going on there. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

  “Thanks, Joey, I think I’ll pass. It’s still painful when I’m on the leg too long.”

  “Will you be all right alone for a few days?”

  “Sure, I’ll take some time to settle into the new place,” said Jake.

  “And you’ll call me if you need anything?” said Joey.

  “I’ll do that,” said Jake.

  “Otherwise, I’ll keep you up to date by telephone and I’ll see you when you get into Chicago Thursday night.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you remember the first time we met, Jake?”

  “Sure, Jimmy Pigeon sent you to me,” said Jake. “You were my second client.”

  “I met Jimmy through Harry Chandler.”

  “I didn’t realize that you knew Chandler,” Jake said. “Did you know him well?”

  “Not all that well, and not for very long,” said Joey. “Harry Chandler made some poor choices along the line, but he was a decent man, Jake. Harry didn’t deserve the hell that Max Lansdale put him through.”

  “Okay,” Jake said as they pulled up in front of the house.

  “Thursday night,” said Joey.

  “Thursday night,” Jake said as he left the car.

  Jake watched Russo pull away. He smoked a cigarette on the front porch before going into the house.

  Max Lansdale walked from the Regency Hotel over to the restaurant on Sixth Avenue between Fifty-Eighth Street and Central Park. A hostess showed him to Vito Ventura’s table in back. Vito rose to greet Lansdale. The two men shook hands.

  “Good to see you, Max,” said Ventura.

  “Same here, Vito,” said Lansdale.

  “Sit, you look like you could use a drink,” said Vito, waving for a waiter.

  Lansdale and Ventura exchanged small talk and nursed twelve-year-old scotch. After the waiter went off with their food order, Vito Ventura opened the meeting to new business.

  “How are things on the home front?” asked Ventura.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” said Lansdale.

  “Word has it Ralph Battle is attracting the attention of police up and down the California coast,” Ventura said. “They’re trying to connect him to a couple of homicides.”

  “Battle hasn’t killed anyone, Vito,” said Lansdale.

  “It’s not so much what Battle has actually done or not done, Max,” said Ventura. “It’s more a question of what he knows and how much he may want to deflect the heat.”

  “What are you suggesting, Vito?”

  “It might be a good idea if you had Battle lay low for a while,” said Ventura.

  “As a matter of fact, Vito, I’ve been thinking the same thing lately. It might be time for Ralph Battle to lay very low. Don’t worry about it; I’ve got it under control.”

  “Glad to hear that,” said Ventura. “Great. Here comes the food. You’re going to love the steak here, Max.”

  Monday evening. Chicago.

  Darlene, Tom Romano, and Eddie Hand sat in the kitchen of Eddie’s house near Wrigley Field.

  “Battle gets into O’Hare at eight thirty,” said Tom. “We’re going to check out the route he’ll be using with Lansdale tomorrow. I want to be sure I’m familiar enough with the spot to find it if we lose Battle’s car when Sonny and I follow them from the airport. We’ll need to leave here in about thirty minutes, Darlene.”

  “Would you mind terribly if I passed on the airport tonight, Tom?” asked Darlene.

  “No problem,” said Tom. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m feeling fine,” said Darlene, “and I’d like to stay that way. I realize that Joey feels we need help from Battle, and maybe Battle’s reasons for helping us are benevolent. But it doesn’t change what kind of man Battle is. I’m just not a big Ralph Battle fan. I’d rather not deal with him.”

  “As I said, Darlene, no problem,” said Tom. “I can handle it alone. Maybe Eddie will be kind enough to give you a little taste of Chicago nightlife.”

  “My pleasure,” said Eddie Hand.

  An hour later, Tom Romano met Ralph Battle as Battle came off the concourse. They walked out to the car that Romano had rented earlier in the day. They didn’t have much to say to one another.

  Romano drove
, Battle navigated. They crossed over the river. Battle had Tom exit the expressway and turn off the service road into the Chevalier Forest Preserve. It was a heavily wooded area. They turned again at a sign for Camp Fort Dearborn. The access road was dark and deserted.

  “Slow down here,” said Battle. “This is where you and Sonny can stop. I’ll continue around the bend. It’s about thirty yards, and you can’t see this spot from there.”

  Tom rolled by slowly, looking the place over. He then continued around the sharp turn in the road.

  “Right here,” said Battle.

  Tom stopped the car and both men got out.

  Tom looked back, confirming that he and Sonny would be out of view from this location the following night.

  “This is good,” said Romano. “This should work well. Lansdale is going to ask why you exited the highway.”

  “He hardly pays attention when I drive,” said Battle. “If Max says something, I’ll tell him I think there’s a problem with the car and need to check it out. Just be sure that you guys are very careful coming in. Kill your headlights as soon as you can and get over to our car as quickly and quietly as possible.”

  “You’ll need to disappear for a while, Ralph,” Tom said. “Any problem with that?”

  “No. I’ll go up to Detroit until it’s done,” Battle said. “I already have the plane ticket. You can take me right back to the airport from here tomorrow night.”

  “Where to now?” asked Tom.

  “You can take me to my house in Cicero. I’ll have to throw together what I need for a week or so. We can put my things in this car for my trip to Detroit tomorrow,” Battle said. “The company car is over at my place. Lansdale can use it to get himself home from here when it’s over.”

  “Okay,” said Tom as he turned the car around to exit the park. “I hope we’re not forgetting anything.”

  “I hope Badalamenti knows what he’s doing,” Battle said. “Don’t worry about Sonny, Ralph,” said Tom. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. How do I get to Cicero?”