A car pulled into the lot, and as it passed beneath one of the lamp posts, Malkin could see it held a single occupant. The new arrival drove around slowly, passing up a number of vacant spaces as if he were looking for something other than a place to park, leading Malkin to conclude this was the man he was waiting for. The cara modest Buick sedanslowed even more as it neared Malkin, its driver peering at the Impala to confirm it was the vehicle he sought. Apparently satisfied, he slid into the vacant adjacent slot.
A nervous looking man, in his late forties and dressed in a rumpled suit, stepped out. After a theatricaland to Malkin, rather comicalglance around the lot, he rapped tentatively on the driver-side window. Malkin lowered it part way.
“You’re Bornstein?” he asked.
A nod.
“Get in.” Malkin gestured with his head to the passenger seat.
Jon Bornstein scurried around the front of the car, and after another exaggerated scan of his surroundings he opened the door and ducked inside.
“First,” said Malkin, “I need you to relax. We’re here to discuss a business transaction. Nothing more.”
Bornstein nodded again. “Right. It’s just that”
Malkin held his hand up. “Stop. I know it’s uncomfortable for you. Let’s take a step back. You have a problem. I can help you. As I pointed out, you’re not asking me to do anyone any harm, and I never resort to violence. I simply…” he waved a hand dismissively, “facilitate a solution to your problem.”
His clients always seemed to accept this benign description of the transaction in which they were about to engage. Of course, for Malkin it was all showthat “all I do is facilitate” nonsensebut if that’s what was necessary to assuage his clients’ guilt over what they were asking him to accomplish, he’d oblige them with a performance. He took pride, however, in the fact thattrue to his wordhe never did resort to violence.
Indeed, he never did anything illegal; nor did he direct any such unlawful activity. But one could not deny that bad things happened when Malkin wanted them to.
“Your partner’s name?” Malkin asked.
Bornstein’s words came out in a croak, as if they were reluctant to pass through his lips.
“Howie. Er, Howard Kaplan.”
Malkin began taking notes in a small leather-bound notebook he had retrieved from his coat pocket. He’d keep those notes only long enough to commit the information to memory and then destroy them.
“Date of birth?”
“November 8, 1958.”
Step by step, Malkin elicited from Bornstein as much detail as he could about the man Bornstein wanted eliminated. The man whose death Malkin was being hired to…facilitate. In answer to Malkin’s questions, Bornstein described Kaplan’s birthplace, the schools he had attended, and his employment history. His friends and acquaintances, his home life, and his outside interests and hobbies. Special attention was paid to Kaplan’s vices.
As the interview progressed, it became more and more difficult to extract answers from Bornstein. Most of Malkin’s clients were like thisdriven for some reason to take the drastic step of contracting for the death of another but paralyzed by the gravity of that decision. Through the years, Malkin had come to realize that very few people shared his outlook on the human condition. The phrase “It’s not all about you” disgusted him, because if you didn’t look out for yourself, no one else was going to. Since he didn’t believe in God, or in hell or an afterlife of any kind, he knew two things with certainty: One, he had only a limited time on this earth, and two, if he was willing to risk the consequences of acting outside the bounds of man-made law while here, there was little to worry about when that limited time was up. He was unhampered by the thing that held most everyone else back. Conscience.
“I understand this is difficult for you,” Malkin said. “In the end, you must be comfortable with what you are asking me to do. If you’re having second thoughts, now is the time to make them known. There’s no shame in calling off this endeavoryou’d need only reimburse me for one day’s time and for my travel expenses, and we will part ways.”
“No, no,” said Bornstein. “It’s, uh…I’ve never done something like this before.”
Malkin nodded and waited silently.
“It’s like this,” Bornstein went on after a moment. “I’ve known him for almost twenty-five years. He was, like, my mentor, when I got my first job at Hart & Morrison. You know, that big accounting firm in New York.”
Malkin let him talk. He knew his clients had to go through this processjustifying to themselves the course of action they were taking. Such reasoning was irrelevant to Malkin, but he considered listening to this drivel a cost of doing business. Besides, sometimes there was a nugget of information contained within the clients’ ramblings that would prove helpful to Malkin’s mission.
“Anyway, Howie’d already been at H&M about eight years when I got there, and a couple of years after that, he decided to leave and open up on his own. He asked me if I wanted to come, and I said yes.”
Bornstein described how the new firm struggled for the first few years, butaccording to himthrough his hard work they built up a considerable client base and grew quite comfortable. Kaplan made him a full partner, and they continued profitably for more than fifteen years. Then, the problems began.
“It started with his divorce. The usual: She faulted Howie if he didn’t earn what she thought was enough but hounded him if he put in the time needed to do it. She resented his late nights and weekends at the office, and all of a sudden, she had a guy on the side. One day, she dropped the bomb on Howieshe wanted out of the marriage.
“It was really messy. There weren’t any kids, so it was all about money. His main asset was his interest in the firm, and her lawyer came up with an appraisal that left him on the hook for a ridiculous amount. Paying the judgment tapped him out completely. That’s when he started drinking.”
At that, Malkin sat up straighter. An alcohol problem usually meant weaknesses he could exploit.
“Tell me about that,” he prodded.
“Yeah. He started missing client meetings and forgetting deadlines. Just really messing up. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he started taking from the firm. ‘Personal loans,’ he called them. The loans got bigger and bigger, and more often too. But he never repaid anything. It’s at the point where we have no cushion left. Our income is just about enough to cover expenses and salaries. At least he can’t take any more.
“I confronted him last month, and he blew up on me. ‘I’m the majority owner, and you don’t tell me what to do,’ is what he screamed. He told me if I don’t like it, I should get the hell out.”
“Why don’t you?” Malkin asked. “Leave?”
Bornstein laughed.
“I want to, believe me. I could leave and set up somewhere elseand at this point probably take all the businessbut it would be a disaster for me. We have this bank loan, and both of us had to sign personal guaranties. If I go, the firm would definitely default, and the bank can go after me for the entire amount. I wouldn’t have enough to pay the bank and open and run a new office too.”
He turned to Malkin, a look of guilt on his face. “I have no choice. I have to find a way to turn things around.”
Malkin nodded.
“Then we go forward. You brought me a photo of Kaplan?”
Bornstein handed him a four-by-six print, which Malkin pocketed.
“The fee, as I said, is fifty thousand dollarshalf now and half upon completion. In addition, a twenty-five thousand dollar deposit to cover anticipated expenses. If I don’t expend it all, I will refund the remaining balance upon completion. If the expense fund is depleted and there is more work to be done, you will replenish it.”
Malkin held out his hand, indicating that now was the time for payment.
“Yes, of course.” Bornstein reached into his coat and withdrew an envelope, which Malkin took and pocketed.
“Aren’t you going to count it?” Bornste
in asked.
“I’m sure it’s all there,” Malkin said. “After all, I would be a poor choice as someone you’d want to cheat, wouldn’t I?”
#
At six o’clock the next morning, Malkin sat at the desk of his hotel room, his notebook computer and handwritten notes from his meeting with Bornstein in front of him. The hotelone in a chain of economy lodgingswas depressing. Spartan furnishings, drab décor, and a second-floor view of the parking lot. He could certainly afford something with more creature comfortsand, in any case, the client was picking up all of his expensesbut he wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He was here to work. And when he was working, he kept a low profile and avoided ostentation.
The business of making enemies was easier than Malkin had thought when he’d first formed his little venture. While the incidences of murder abound, when it comes to motive, it’s usually one of a very few. The specifics of the motivation may change from case to case, but distilled down to basics, people kill primarily because of money, jealousy, pride, or revenge. And there were plenty of people who were willing to kill for those reasons. Who could be manipulated into killing for those reasons.
Malkin had been in the business for quite some time, and over the years the manipulation became easier. His success rate was extremely high, but there had been a handful of failures. Twice, he had failed to make the necessary enemy. One of those times, the targeta woman who had gotten cold feet just days before she was to marry Malkin’s clienthad been so inexplicably clean that Malkin could find no weakness he could exploit, no characteristic or trait that would cause anyoneother than the jilted and angered clientto wish her harm. The otherin which a client had sought to accelerate her receipt of her husband’s life insurance benefits by doing away with himthe husband was a local manager at a national pest control service with hiring and firing authority over a team of field personnel. Malkin’s investigation revealed that one of the employees was an ex-con with an explosive temper and little self-control, and Malkin had engineered circumstances that resulted in the employee’s discharge by the client’s husband. Although this unjustified dismissal should have been enough to throw the employee into a vengeful rage against his former boss, Malkin had overestimated the man’s proclivity to violence. After a rage-filled confrontation at the corporate office, the now-former worker had been content just to collect unemployment benefits without further ado.
On another occasion, the proper, capable, and willing enemy had been made, but there had been collateral damage. The client and target had been close friendsuntil the client had discovered his friend’s affair with his wife. Despite Malkin’s warnings to stay clear of his friend once things had been set in motion, the client failed to do so and was killed along with his friend when the car in which they were traveling was forced off the road by the new enemy Malkin had found for the target. This had proven unfortunate for Malkin, in more ways than one. He’d had a nasty confrontation with the client’s brother, in whom the client had apparently confided about Malkin’s undertaking. But more importantly, as far as Malkin was concerned, the client had been in no position to make the payment that was due upon completion.
The interview of Bornstein the previous night had given Malkin the direction he needed with his current assignmentKaplan obviously had money issues. And an alcohol problem. The two of them together usually combined in synergistic fashion to produce devastating consequences. There was a reason Kaplan had started taking money from the firm, and if Malkin could find out why, he might discover someone else, besides Bornstein, who would be less than enthusiastically concerned about Kaplan’s continued well-being.
Malkin needed to observe Kaplan for himself. Learn about the man from other sources, yes, but study him firsthand as well. He’d begin that day.
#
As instructed, Bornstein called Malkin when Kaplan arrived at the office. It was shortly after eleven o’clock in the morning.
Malkin found the building in which Kaplan & Bornstein, P.A. was located with no problem. The Middlesex County town, with a population of about forty thousand, had a business district approximately five blocks long. Most of the buildings were one-storied brick-faced structures and featured retail stores and restaurants. In the center of town, where three different streets met in a five-cornered intersection, stood a seven-story office building. According to Bornstein, the accounting firm occupied a suite on the top floor.
In the parking lot adjoining the building, Malkin located Kaplan’s silver Lexus LSreportedly leased in the firm’s name, so Kaplan had escaped the divorce with itand chose a parking spot that afforded an unobstructed view of both the building’s single entrance and the car. By pre-arrangement, Bornstein was to call Malkin when Kaplan was leaving the office.
His cell phone vibrated at precisely five, and a perpetually nervous Bornstein reported that Kaplan had just gotten onto the elevator. Three minutes later, Malkin watched as Kaplanwhom he recognized from the photo furnished by Bornsteinemerged from the building and made his way to his car. The Lexus exited the lot and headed west on the main street, and Malkin fell in behind it. At the first intersection, he allowed a car to make a right-hand turn in front of him from the intersecting street, and he continued to follow.
The neighborhood changed as the Lexus crossed over some railroad tracks, and Malkin thought of how clichéd that was. Eventually, Kaplan turned right, and two blocks later he pulled to the curb. Malkin drove by, watching in his rear and side view mirrors. Luckily, there were other cars lining the street, so Malkin did not stand out, and a half-block later he parked and turned in his seat to see Kaplan walk across the street into a brick-faced structure. A red neon sign in the small window announced that it was “Arnold’s Bar.”
Malkin wasn’t even tempted to follow him in. He would simply make himself comfortable, suspecting that it would be a while before Kaplan re-emerged. It was only about a quarter past five, and if Kaplan was as heavily into booze as Bornstein said, this was likely to be a long night. Nonetheless, Malkin had to do what he could to identify any patterns Kaplan might follow.
By about nine o’clock, Malkin began to wonder how much longer it would be before Kaplan had had enough, but it was curiosity rather than restlessness that made him do sohe was used to lengthy stakeouts. And it was his patience with such things that ensured the success he enjoyed. Finally, as 10:30 approached, Kaplan emerged. Appearing just slightly unsteady, he crossed the street to his car, fumbled momentarily with his keys, and got behind the wheel. Malkin followed a half-block behind.
Back across the tracks, he followed Kaplan through a series of turns. Malkin had already scoped out Kaplan’s garden apartment complexnot terrible, but a marked difference from the luxury car that he droveand it was obvious the man was heading home. There were few vehicles on the streets at this hour, so tailing the Lexus was risky, but Malkin judged that Kaplan had had enough to drink that he was focused more on driving in a straight line than on anything else.
Five minutes later, Malkin watched as Kaplan parked his car and tottered across his apartment parking lot. It was nearly eleven o’clock. Malkin waited about a half hour, to be sure Kaplan had retired for the night and wasn’t on his way back out. Then he headed back to his hotel.
#
For the next two days, Malkin watched Kaplan keep the same routine: Home until late morning, and then to the office. From the office to Arnold’s Bar until about ten thirty. Back home from there. On the third evening, however, Kaplan did something different.
He left his office shortly after five, but instead of Arnold’s, he drove to a fast food Chinese restaurant. He returned to his car, paper bag in hand, and went directly home. Malkin sat outside for about ninety minutesmore than enough time to allow Kaplan to eat and then head back out if that’s what he’d planned. However, as dusk fell, Malkin could see the glow of the television through the window, suggesting that Kaplan was in to stay.
It was therefore safe, Malkin thought, to venture into Arnold’s Bar.<
br />
#
He didn’t rush in. He arrived shortly after seven o’clock, and patient man that he was, he sat outside in his car for about an hour, watching. Comings and goings. At this hour, mostly comings. He recognized some people from the previous nights, but there were enough new faces to make him comfortable that it wasn’t the kind of neighborhood place to take on the character of a private club. He’d walked into enough joints where his presence was about as welcome as a federal agent at a summit of The Commission. Arnold’s, he was confident, was not such an establishment.
The inside was as he’d imagined. Dimly lit, not too big, the smell of stale beer, with a small bar along one wall, and a handful of tables along another. A beanpole of a bartender watched the single TV, which was tuned to a basketball game.
Malkin counted six men sitting at the bar, and another three alone at tables, all nursing drinks. After half-heartedly appraising him with a glance, they all turned their attention back to their glasses.
Three of the six at the bar were familiar to Malkinregulars whom he’d seen entering and leaving on the previous nights. One of those men, gaunt and haggardand probably ten years younger than the sixty that he appearedhad two vacant stools to one side and three to his other. It was natural enough for Malkin to seat himself equidistant between that man and his nearest neighbor to his right. He ordered a Budweiser and kept to himself.
People trickled in. Some to the bar, but some continued to the back of the room where they opened a door, stepped through, and closed the door behind them. Many appeared to be regulars, greeting each other if not by name then at least by nodding or offering a “Hey, how’s it going?” Periodically, the bartender loaded a tray with a variety of drinks and carried it to the back room. When the first round was delivered, Malkin could see, through the open door, a round table with six or seven seats, most occupied. One of the men seated there was shuffling a deck of cards.
The Thrill List Page 11