Two days later they set a timetable in place. A crew from Halifax would be on site the first of the next week to begin removing dirt and debris from the crater. Once they located the shaft they’d start excavating it. The closing date for Brian’s purchase of the property was that week as well, so he would fly to Halifax on Sunday and stay a couple of weeks while the crew excavated.
Sitting on Nicole’s bed that evening, he told her everything he was doing as Shelia, her caregiver watched TV in the living room. Nicole listened intently and said nothing while he told stories of Oak Island, the Templar relics, Harold Mulhaney and his plans to find what was there. After nearly ten minutes he realized he had talked too much. She wasn’t listening any more so he stopped.
“Do you understand what I told you about the new project in Nova Scotia?”
With a big smile on her face she shook her head. Tears came into Brian’s eyes – that was the most positive reaction she’d offered since the accident. She was getting better, even if she didn’t comprehend a lot.
“Eat now?” she said.
“I’ll fix it, Mr. Sadler,” Shelia called from the living room.
He looked into Nicole’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, baby. Of course we can eat now. I’ve worn you out with a bunch of talk. I love you and I love how much better you’re getting.”
That brought another smile.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The arrests of Sammy Freeland and Joey Barberi made front-page headlines in Dallas. Both got their fifteen minutes of fame although each probably hoped for different fame than this.
Nicole’s boss Randall Carter called Brian and told him the men had been arrested. At the inn Brian read the news article online and let Agent Underwood know. He promised to personally investigate if there could be a connection to the Fifth Avenue bombing.
The anonymous tip from the bartender was exactly what Dallas police had needed to determine who sabotaged Nicole Farber’s car. Facing charges of attempted capital murder, the two men were jailed in downtown Dallas. The police detective working the case was surprised when a senior FBI agent in New York called and requested information. Sabotaging brake lines on a Dallas lawyer’s convertible didn’t sound like an FBI matter to him and these two losers who were apparently involved didn’t look like major criminals. But who knew?
Sammy sang like a bird but he wasn’t the one the cops wanted to hear. His court-appointed lawyer sat next to him as he admitted doing the “brake job” on the Mercedes. He confirmed the bartender’s story word for word. Joey Barberi hired him with a promise to erase five thousand dollars in gambling debts and give him a new five grand line of credit. Which, coincidentally, Sammy had lost on the Cowboys game Monday night. That was the only good thing out of all this, Sammy figured. He might be in jail but at least Joey the Barber couldn’t break his legs when Sammy didn’t pay.
Thanks to the bartender and Sammy, the police knew Barberi ordered the job. Now they wanted to interview Joey the Barber to find out why he wanted to hurt Nicole Farber. Usually these attacks against lawyers were retaliatory, aiming to hurt an attorney who’d been on the other side of a case, but Nicole didn’t do that kind of legal work. There was nothing on the surface to indicate Joey Barberi should have had a vendetta against her but nobody could find out for sure. At the moment Joey wasn’t talking.
Barberi hired a high-profile local attorney who specialized in criminal defense, ironically the same area of law that Nicole practiced. Joey entered a plea of not guilty and conferred with his lawyer. An offer was made to the Assistant District Attorney assigned to the case. Joey’s lawyer told the ADA his client merely facilitated the job, acting on instructions from a person whom he feared.
The representative from the DA’s office refused to negotiate, pointing out that they had Barberi dead to rights with the testimony of the bartender, who saw and heard the entire thing, and Sammy Freeland, the perpetrator, himself. Things were at a standstill for ten days until Special Agent-in-Charge Jack Underwood called Brian.
“If we can link these guys to Spedino we can figure out what happened,” the agent said. “I know you’ve got friends in high places. Are you willing to use a favor?”
Brian said he’d do anything to help Nicole and made a phone call.
Three days later the Dallas County District Attorney was at his desk when his secretary buzzed him. “Sir, the White House is on line one.”
He laughed, thinking his assistant had been taken in by a prank caller. “I’m busy, Marjorie. I’ve never had a call from the White House in my life. How do you know it’s actually them? Tell them to put the President himself on the line right now. That should take care of it.”
In a moment she opened his office door. She was white as a sheet.
“He’s…he’s, uh, on line one, sir.”
“Who?”
“The President. He’s waiting to talk to you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. What the hell’s this all about…” He picked up the line and curtly said, “OK, whoever you are. Start talking.”
He heard the voice so familiar to Americans everywhere. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, Mr. District Attorney, but I need your assistance.”
Needless to say, the apologetic District Attorney jumped at the chance to help the President. Once he realized the potential magnitude of this case he pulled it away from his assistant. This would be very high profile. He wanted this exciting case and he needed the attendant publicity it was going to generate. Politics never stopped – DAs were always running for office.
The police were surprised when they learned the Assistant District Attorney who had been handling the case had been removed. The boss himself would be running things from now on. That was so unusual at this early stage of a case no one in Dallas could remember it ever happening. It made the news.
Joey Barberi’s attorney presented his demands – a lesser charge than attempted capital murder and no prosecution for unrelated non-capital crimes that might come out during questioning. To help him decide, the lawyer revealed to the DA that Joey’s boss in Kansas City had told Joey about a guy who had a job he wanted done. That second person had paid Joey $50,000. Barberi had never met that man. He had done a couple of previous jobs for him in the past, also arranged by phone. If the District Attorney approved the plea bargain Barberi would tell everything – what the job was, what he knew about the man who paid him, what bank the fifty grand came from, everything. They would turn over Joey’s phone and bank records and cooperate fully with authorities.
When President Harrison had spoken to the District Attorney he requested the DA involve the FBI Agent, Jack Underwood, in discussions about the plea bargain. Joey Barberi wasn’t the most important cog in this wheel – they were after the people at the top.
Agent Underwood and the DA talked about Kansas City, a known Mafia town, and how the bookie’s testimony might link this case to Spedino. The DA called Joey the Barber’s lawyer and agreed to the terms of the plea agreement.
Special Agent-in-Charge Underwood flew in from New York to join the interview process. When he arrived the senior Dallas police detective who was leading the questioning demanded to know why the FBI was involved. Underwood explained that this case involved a top Mafia figure they’d been trying to take down for years. And confidentially, he told the detective, the President of the United States is involved.
Underwood concluded by saying, “I can’t tell you more than that, but trust me that we want to handle this interrogation by the books. This is a critically important case.”
The local cops didn’t know exactly how to take this but they cooperated fully with Agent Underwood. Especially when the District Attorney himself did something he’d never done before. He personally attended Joey Barberi’s deposition.
“I’m a bookmaker,” Barberi explained, immune from prosecution for that crime due to the agreement with the DA. “I work for some guys in Kansas City.” He named them. Underwood later ran them through the s
ystem – they were small-time criminals who ultimately worked for the mob although they weren’t Mafia themselves.
Joey’s boss in Kansas City had called a year or more ago. Joey would be hearing from a man who needed a job done, the boss told him. Given a promise it would be worth his while, Joey accepted.
“This man called me and used a series of numbers to identify himself. That’s what my boss told me was going to happen. He asked me to do something; I did it and he wired me ten thousand bucks. Done deal.”
Joey said he’d done one additional task for the man, netting him twenty thousand, and now the brake job on Nicole Farber’s car, for which he was paid fifty thousand dollars. When Sammy Freeland later learned that information it pissed him off. He’d done the dirty work and netted a lousy five grand out of the fifty Joey had made.
Armed with the information Joey Barberi provided, Agent Underwood took over the investigation. Joey had authorized access to his telephone and bank records and in short order the FBI determined that the caller who had set up the brake job on Nicole’s car was in Italy using a throwaway cell phone. The wire transfer had come from UcretsizBank in Ankara, Turkey. Citing Turkish law, the bank would say only that a Turkish corporation owned it. It turned out that Turkish company was owned by a Liechtenstein trust. The trail stopped there; Liechtenstein was a tax haven – ownership information was difficult or impossible to get. The tiny country prided itself on secrecy and this case would be no exception.
UcretsizBank refused to provide any information on activity in the account because of Turkey’s secrecy laws. If money laundering were alleged the financial institution could be more forthcoming, but that wasn’t the situation here.
Jack Underwood took a different route. He called a law school classmate of his at the CIA in Langley, Virginia. He explained the case he was working on and that it might involve the Mafia at high levels. His friend agreed to check with the CIA Station Chief in Istanbul to see if he had any connections at UcretsizBank. Forty-eight hours later he called Underwood with some news.
“This may or may not help, and it’s not much,” the CIA man said. “This is all I know. The Turkish bank account received a $5 million deposit a week before the car sabotage in Dallas. The fifty thousand was wired out to a Dallas account and the rest is still there. I don’t know if the five million is related to your case but it’s a hell of a lot of money regardless.”
“That may be helpful…”
“I’m not quite through. I have one more odd bit of information to give you. That five million deposit I mentioned. It was a wire transfer from the Institute for the Works of Religion.”
“What the hell’s that? Sounds like a church.”
“It’s the bank that the Catholic Church owns, Jack. It’s also called the Vatican Bank.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Vatican City
Work on John Spedino’s extradition to the USA had commenced the moment he was arrested in Italy. As a condition to handing over the Mafia don, the US had to agree that he would not face capital punishment for his crimes. This was a standard requirement for extradition from almost all western European countries. Spedino was immediately flown to New York City accompanied by FBI agents. He was transferred to the Metropolitan Correctional Center in downtown Manhattan where he would remain until his arraignment. At the moment he was charged with unlawful flight to avoid prosecution and drug trafficking, the latter charge pending from over a year ago, before his incarceration in Guatemala. The US Attorney hoped to add murder charges shortly.
A few days later as Dominic Cardinal Conti worked at his desk his cellphone rang. The screen showed, “Blocked,” so Conti declined the call. In a moment a voicemail was left. As Dominic listened to it he first was surprised, then a little fearful but also angry.
He heard a recorded voice. “This is a collect call from the Metropolitan Correctional Center in New York. This call is from…” The message paused for the insertion of a name and Conti heard a familiar voice. “John Spedino.” Then the recording continued. “To accept all calls from this number press *13. To decline all calls from this number press *15.”
Conti had heard that the godfather was now in New York to face charges relative to the Fifth Avenue bombing. “I have nothing to say to you, John Spedino,” the Cardinal muttered as he considered whether he should decline all calls. If Spedino called again maybe he’d accept just to see what the old man wanted. He pressed *13 and hung up.
Five minutes later the same blocked number appeared on his cellphone screen. Conti pressed *13 again and accepted the collect call. Mindful that calls from correctional facilities were recorded, Dominic would be careful what he said.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t decline my call, Dominic. It was smart of you to accept it.”
“What do you want? I have nothing to say to you.”
“Oh, but I have something to say to you, Cardinal Conti. Something very interesting happened. The FBI has a recording of a conversation between you and me…or part of a conversation, I should say. Someone gave them the part that incriminated me, but forgot the rest. Remember the rest, Dominic? The part that shows your involvement?”
The cleric chose his words carefully. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I asked you to get a manuscript for the Church and of your own volition you murdered a number of people. That had nothing to do with me.”
“I only have a few minutes left, Dominic. These calls are five minutes maximum – one of the minor inconveniences of being in jail.” He laughed. “Here’s why I called. I have nothing to lose at this point. The Feds think they have an airtight case against me. I wonder if they know about $5 million that was wired from the Vatican Bank to an account in Turkey? Does that ring any bells, Dominic? Do you remember wiring money for a job you hired me to do? It must have been a big job – five million’s a lot of money just to get a manuscript. What if they know about that? You gave the FBI a doctored tape of our conversation, Dominic. I’m going to make sure they know the true story. I’m going to give you up. Your life will soon change forever, just like mine did thanks to you. Best wishes, Cardinal Conti. You won’t hear from me again.”
Spedino hung up.
This is bad. I have to silence him.
In New York the next morning the warden of the Metropolitan Correctional Center called the FBI’s office a few blocks away. He told the Special Agent-in-Charge about John Spedino’s call to a man he addressed as “Cardinal Conti” and “Dominic.” The warden advised the number Spedino dialed was foreign, to country code 39. Underwood looked it up while they talked. It was the code for Italy. It was also that of Vatican City. The agent wasn’t surprised. He’d have been more surprised if it hadn’t been.
Within an hour Jack Underwood had listened to Spedino’s phone call and sent a request to John Spedino’s attorney. Underwood wanted to interview the godfather. If he was ready to give Conti up, Jack Underwood was ready to listen.
Chapter Fifty
New York/Vatican City
It took a couple of days for John Spedino’s attorney to respond to the FBI’s request for interrogation. The US Attorney’s office got involved since the godfather’s lawyer asked for a number of concessions in return. By now every agency working on Spedino’s case was aware the President himself had an interest in it. The US Attorney was careful to ask his bosses in Washington what they wanted him to do.
From the conversation between Spedino and Cardinal Conti, the FBI believed Spedino truly did have nothing to lose at this point. Spedino was already immune from the death penalty as part of his extradition agreement. He was going to spend the rest of his life in prison one way or another and from the call it looked like he was willing to take a leader of the Church down with him.
So they refused to negotiate with Spedino’s attorney. They would play a waiting game to see if John Spedino would talk without a plea agreement.
It took twenty-four hours. Spedino’s attorney came back with news that his client, agai
nst the advice of counsel, had agreed to tell them what he knew about the Fifth Avenue bombing.
-----
In his Vatican office, Cardinal Conti felt as though his life were spinning out of control. He was losing his grip. He had three murders to plan. His very existence – his life as a revered cleric and senior official of the Church – was in danger of collapsing. He could go to prison! He would be mocked, ridiculed, his name a synonym for scandal and deceit forevermore. He would be the Cardinal who shamed his office, his Pope, his Lord.
Be rational, Dominic. Think through this. He glanced at notes he had made on a pad, laying out his thoughts so he could formulate a plan. John Spedino had to die, but the godfather was safely in a Federal prison in New York. He also had to get rid of Brian Sadler and that librarian in London. Conti didn’t even know that man’s name. This dilemma would be humorous, Conti briefly thought, if it were a stage play. He was plotting to kill a man whose name he didn’t even know. How in God’s name had he gotten to this point? He wasn’t used to arranging murders. Except when he used John Spedino now and then, of course. That was different. That extended back to the days when they were young and good friends. But now his so-called friend had betrayed him. Conti wouldn’t allow him to get away with it. Back to business. Figure this out, Dominic. Come up with a plan. You always have. You can do it again.
Prison killings happen every day, at least in the movies. Surely Conti could get someone inside to do the job. That would be the easiest and would remove Spedino from the picture.
Brian Sadler had said he was flying to London. That’s where his gallery is, Conti reflected. I can get someone to take care of him and the librarian at the same time. Some kind of accident. Of course it’ll be suspicious given the Fifth Avenue bombing and Brian’s involvement, but they’ll never pin it on me.
He wasn’t satisfied yet with his plan, but he pressed ahead to the next step. He would find someone to pull this off.
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