Inside Cut

by Tom Fowler

  “Remember the name Eddie Ferrugia?” He shook his head. “I told you about him recently. He’s out in the county. Data guy . . . running a point-shaving scheme.”

  “I think it’s ringing a bell now. So what? What does this Eddie have to do with me?”

  “I’m sure you know the county has something of a power vacuum. There’s no Tony out there to run everything.”

  “Been the case for a while,” Bruno said. “Why should I start caring about it now?”

  “I know more about Eddie now. He’s ambitious.” A cute waitress neared us, then turned heel and strode away at Bruno’s curt headshake. “I don’t know how interested he is in the county, and I’m not sure I much care beyond how it affects my client’s family. He specifically mentioned Tony, though. Eddie might have an eye on Baltimore.”

  Bruno waved his hand. “Tony’s fended off a lot worse than some numbers geek.”

  “Sure. Look, I like Tony. I’ve known him most of my life. None of us are getting any younger, though, and he’s had a pretty rough go of it recently.”

  “Meaning what?” Bruno regarded me though narrowed eyes.

  “Meaning Eddie might see him as ripe for the picking.”

  “This is why Tony keeps us around.” Bruno gestured to the two guys sharing our table as if I’d forgotten they were there. “I’m sure we can handle one guy.” He inclined his head toward the goon on my right, and the man stood.

  “There’s more,” I said. “The player he’s using for his scheme has a young daughter. Eddie’s men kidnapped her.”

  The enforcer didn’t sit, and Bruno’s expression didn’t change. My pulse climbed. If I couldn’t appeal to his loyalty to Tony, I hoped to win him over as a father. If both failed, I’d be out on the concrete. “Why do you think I care about some kid?” Bruno said.

  “Because you’re a father. If some asshole took your little girl, I’m sure you’d want her back.” The goon advanced, moving behind me. He was ready to grab me at Bruno’s command. “You don’t like me. Fine. Don’t do it for me. Do it for a girl who’s not even two years old yet and is wondering where the hell her parents are.”

  Bruno frowned and stared at the tabletop for a few seconds. When he looked up, he said, “Tell me prick’s name again.”

  “Eddie Ferrugia.”

  “Spell it.” I did. “All right.” He jerked his thumb, and the man behind me took his seat again. “We’ll look into it. You can go.”

  I left while the leaving was good.

  After leaving Il Buon Cibo, I drove back to Federal Hill. From the parking pad behind my house, I walked around the corner to the closest bar, which was The Outpost American Tavern. Normally, I would have appreciated the dark wood design and pleasing interior. Right now, however, I simply wanted a drink. I ordered a double whiskey on the rocks and sipped it at the bar.

  My failure to find anything usable on Eddie Ferrugia led me to making a bargain with Bruno. It felt a lot like negotiating with Tony, only with less charm and more hostility. I didn’t feel good about farming the problem out to someone else, especially a person like Bruno. However, time was of the essence. Iris shouldn’t be away from her parents longer than necessary. Appealing to Bruno’s paternal sensibilities would reunite Iris with Tamika and Calvin and solve the Eddie problem.

  All it cost me was any sense of accomplishment. And seven dollars for the drink.

  I downed the remaining whiskey in a single swig, hoping the burning sensation cascading down my throat would improve my mood or clear my head. The results were inconclusive. I walked back home. A minute after closing the door behind me, a familiar German engine rumbled down the alley to the rear of the house. I opened the back door as Gloria sidled her Mercedes coupe next to the S4. When she got out of the car, I tried my best rakish lean against the frame.

  She smiled, so it must have worked. My own smile faded when I saw Gloria limp from her car unable to put her full weight on her left ankle. Good thing her Mercedes only came with two pedals. I met her in what passed for my backyard. Before I could help her up the stairs, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me like she meant it—several times. “Bourbon?” she said after we pulled apart.

  “It’s been one of those days already. Don’t worry about me, though. Let me get your bag.” She handed it to me, and I slung it over my shoulder. It looked like the one for her tennis equipment. At least one suitcase of clothes remained in the trunk.

  As if reading my mind, Gloria said, “There are two more in the trunk.”

  “Of course there are.”

  I helped her inside, where she limped into the living room before plopping down on the couch. “I made the finals.” A grin started to form on her lips before abruptly stopping. “Had to resign in the first set, though.” Gloria swung her left leg onto the couch. “I twisted it running down a drop shot.” She shook her head. “I should’ve let it go. I tried to play the next game, but it just wasn’t happening.”

  “You did your best,” I said, squeezing her hand. “You can’t really compete when you’re injured.”

  “People play hurt all the time.”

  “Big difference between hurt and injured.”

  “I guess.” Gloria’s eyes flittered between the couch and her swollen ankle. Her shoulders slumped. I knew she hadn’t won a tournament in a while, but she took this loss hard. Getting all the way to the finals and then being unable to finish must’ve been heartbreaking.

  “I sat out my sophomore year of college,” I said.

  She looked up at me. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Medical redshirt. Didn’t cost me the year of eligibility, but I couldn’t play. High ankle sprain . . . took a long time to get better.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Stayed around the team. Tried to keep myself in game shape. It was rough. We made the playoffs, and I watched them from the sidelines.”

  Gloria put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.” I kissed her. “How old was your opponent?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “They keep rolling out the young ones, don’t they?” Gloria offered a somber nod. “Here you are not quite twenty-eight, and you’re already washed up.” She grinned. “Past your prime.”

  “I am not.” She leaned in, and we locked lips again.

  I eased her down on the sofa, and her eyes sparked up at me. “Prove it,” I said.

  Later, I sought updates on Eddie Ferrugia and Iris. Rich didn’t have anything to report. I tried Gonzalez next but got his voicemail. My next call was to Captain Casey Norton of the Maryland State Police, whom I’d crossed paths with on a few prior cases. I began the conversation by asking him about Eddie.

  “Who?” was his reply.

  I explained what I’d been working on the past several days, including the abduction of Iris, the assault of Tamika, and the murder of Ben. “Sounds like the city cops are all over it,” Norton said, assigning work to all over it the phrase was ill-suited to perform. “What do you need me for?”

  “The case crosses city and county lines. I was hoping the state had something on Eddie.”

  “Hasn’t been on our radar,” Norton said.

  “What about cops from John Hanson College being on a criminal’s payroll?”

  “Sounds like the county has jurisdiction there, but as a captain in the state police, I’d certainly be interested.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, and I hung up.

  Gonzalez got back to me a few minutes later. “Got nothing for you,” he said after we exchanged pleasantries.

  “What’s Eddie up to?”

  “Running a legitimate business as far as I can tell. We got a few guys watching him in shifts. He goes home, he goes to work, he goes to the gym. For a criminal mastermind, he leads a pretty boring life.”

  He goes to work. An idea took shape in the back of my mind. “OK,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I figure something out.”

  “Likewise.” Gonz
alez broke the connection. Eddie Ferrugia, like me, was a millennial. A lot gets hurled at us by the older generations. Much of it doesn’t make sense, but there’s some signal to be found in the noise. One of the frequent accusations against us relates to frequent job-hopping. No one has a career anymore according to people who were bored out of their professional skulls for forty years. Eddie owned a business, but people our age can be serial entrepreneurs. It may not have been his first.

  Before his current sports-based company in Towson, Eddie owned and operated Fast Eddie’s Data Warehousing. It would tie nicely into analytics and business intelligence. From what I could discern, Eddie shuttered the operation over a year ago. The property management company maintained no web presence, so I called them. They confirmed Fast Eddie’s was defunct, but the lease had been paid for another two years, which left ten months.

  Before I could hang up, the helpful lady on the other end also informed me utilities were included in the lease. It was a place not many people would find, and the power was on.

  Seemed like the perfect spot to hide a kidnapped child.

  Chapter 20

  Eddie’s erstwhile company maintained its office in a building on Crain Highway in Glen Burnie. It was close enough to BWI for the management company to boast of its proximity to the airport. The real downside, of course, was the Glen Burnie location. I pulled the Caprice off the main road. The lot held a pair of identical brown commercial structures and a white one which didn’t fit in at all. The address placed the former Fast Eddie’s Data Warehousing in the rust-colored one farther from the road.

  I didn’t know the layout of the building. The office could be closer to the front or the rear. I drove around the exterior. In addition to the main entrance, a smaller keycard-restricted one bisected the back wall. With few other cars in the vicinity, I parked near this door and found it locked. The card reader flashed its red light at me as I tried to gain access.

  I walked around to the main entrance and went inside. Like many lobbies, a directory on the wall indicated where I could find the various tenants. A few suites on the first floor were abuzz with activity as people moved around behind frosted glass walls. Eddie’s business, despite being closed, still appeared on the tenant list.

  To avoid tipping him off via the elevator, I took the stairs to the third floor. A carpeted hallway led in both directions. I followed it past the elevators to the left. Across from Eddie’s, an attorney’s office sat dark. The data warehousing unit appeared dark as well, and the door was locked when I tried to open it.

  I scanned for security cameras. A place like this was bound to have them—it would allow them to charge more for monitoring in the rent. I saw only one, mounted into the ceiling directly in front of the elevators. It swept left and right at regular intervals. I couldn’t simply pick the lock. If someone watched the camera’s output, they’d notice me.

  What I could do was pretend to knock on the door when the camera was on me and work the tumblers when it wasn’t. When its electronic eye pivoted away, I took out my tools and started. Twenty seconds later, I paused, pantomimed knocking and waiting, and watched the camera. Its circuit began again. Three cycles later, I lined everything up and opened the lock. I waited until the lens pointed away before I stepped inside.

  The lights were off in the main entryway. A data warehousing company would need room for computers, probably a bunch of servers. It would also need to keep them secure. Even if Eddie didn’t have racks of equipment mounted anymore, he still rented a pretty large space. If he brought a goon with him, an ambush could come from anywhere.

  I didn’t want to use a flashlight and give myself away, so I let my eyes adjust. The foyer opened into another hallway where more doors waited on either side. The corridor angled to the right. A server room would be large. The right side would be against the building’s exterior, so I focused on the left side. The last door was about halfway down. Paydirt.

  Before I could get there, one of Eddie’s enforcers emerged from an office to my right. If I hadn’t heard his shoes, he would’ve gotten the drop on me. With a little advance warning, I ducked under his wild punch and backed up so he couldn’t follow it with a better one. This guy was about my size, though a bit younger and much stockier. Maybe he was another football player on loan from the assistant AD.

  Whomever he was, he pressed the attack and kept me on my heels. The walls and the door behind me meant little space to maneuver unless I could slip past him. Considering his speed and tenacity, I didn’t like my chances. Rather than waste time and breath on a volley of punches, my foe threw them with purpose. He didn’t wear himself out. Eddie must’ve asked for a higher caliber of goon since the last time.

  Still, while this guy was better than any of the first three, he wasn’t a trained fighter. He was smart enough to keep his wits about him, but I noticed his guard drop every time he threw a left. My forearms stung from blocking his blows. Time to turn the tables. When he fired off a left, I blunted it and countered with a sharp right to the jaw. My knuckles stung, but it staggered my opponent.

  I tried to keep him at a disadvantage. His hands guarded his face, so I kicked him hard in the stomach. When he leaned forward, I grabbed his hair, elbowed him twice behind the ear, then drove my knee into his face. His head snapped back, and his body followed it. He lay on the carpet and didn’t move. I checked the room he ambushed me from. A small empty office.

  Might as well test my theory. I bypassed every other entrance and went right to what I presumed to be the server room. Eddie could be waiting on the other side with a gun. I drew my .45, stood to the side, and pushed the door open. No bullets greeted me. I dropped to a crouch and padded inside. Sure enough, this had been the data center. Four empty equipment racks lined the room. I saw Eddie hiding behind one. At the rear, a small monitor showed the security camera footage. He knew I was coming.

  “Eddie, I’m here for Iris,” I said. He stood with his back to me, so I couldn’t tell if he held a gun. Never one to take too many foolish risks, I slid over and positioned myself behind the metal of a rack on the other side of the open space. “If she’s not here, let me know where she is. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

  “Go away,” he said. “She’s not here.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “Calvin will play ball,” I said. “You don’t need to keep his daughter.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said. He spun toward me. I saw the pistol as he raised his hand, so I ducked farther behind the steel frame. The sound of two gunshots thundered in the server room, but the thick metal soaked up both rounds. I peeked around. Eddie retreated to where he stood initially.

  “Eddie, I don’t want to shoot you. I just want the girl.” My elevated pulse whooshed in my ears. I controlled my breathing in case I needed to return fire.

  “I’ll have no leverage.”

  “You have bigger things to worry about.”

  “Yeah?” he said. “Like what?”

  “I heard you’re on Tony Rizzo’s radar.”

  He didn’t say anything at first. “Tony don’t scare me.” The tremble in his voice told me otherwise.

  “You might think Tony’s an old codger, but he’s got some smart people working for him. It’s a matter of time before they find you, Eddie. What do you think they’ll do when they get here?” He remained silent again. “Come out. No gun. We’ll talk about it.”

  “Fine.” He walked out, made a show of stuffing his gun in the back waistband of his pants, and crossed his arms. I moved from behind the rack.

  “Smart decision,” I said.

  “You going to put your gun away?” he said.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re a criminal. How do I know you don’t have more guys waiting for me?”

  “I guess you don’t.”

  “I guess I don’t.”

  We walked to the back of the room. The monitor with the se
curity feed sat atop an otherwise empty desk. A window pointing to the rear corner of the building was behind it. Its tint prevented a lot of light from coming in. “All right,” Eddie said, “let’s talk.”

  I was about to say something when I looked out the window. Two large black SUVs pulled into parking spots. Five men got out. One of them was Bruno. “Shit,” I said.

  “What?” Eddie moved beside me. “Who are they?”

  “Remember when I said Tony had some smart people working for him? Here they are.”

  “Did you lead them here?” Eddie reached for his gun again.

  I grabbed his arm. “No,” I said, even though I put Bruno onto Eddie in the first place. “I’d like to get us both out of this building alive. Can you work with me on this?”

  “Why do you want to keep me alive?”

  “Iris. Now, let’s try to get out of here.”

  We headed toward the main entryway of the office. “There’s another stairwell to the left,” Eddie said. I held up my hand as we approached, nudged the door open, and scanned the corridor.

  “All clear. Let’s go.”

  We scampered ten feet to the stairwell, threw open the door, and headed down.

  Chapter 21

  We descended the steps quickly while still remaining vigilant. I went before him so any members of Team Tony wouldn’t see Eddie first. We made it to the ground floor without incident. The stairs ended in a short, narrow corridor taking us directly to the back door. It offered no place to hide and no cover. Thankfully, it was empty.

  Did Bruno take everyone in the front? Maybe he left a few guys here in case Eddie made a break for it. The rear exit door was metal but held a small window in its top half. Eddie and I crouched on opposite sides. I rose and peeked out. No one stood in the way, but off to the side, two goons leaned against one of the SUVs.

  “See anyone?” Eddie asked in a quiet voice.

  “Two guys. We won’t make it without being seen.”