“I think not. What do you want?”
“We want to talk to you about your interest in Leo Balkus,” the first one said.
“Well, in that case, come right in,” Tony said figuring he might get some information from them. They stepped into his foyer and stopped when he turned to them and said, “Here’re the ground rules. You sit on the couch and we talk. You don’t wander around my house snooping into things and planting listening devices or cameras.”
“We don’t do that kind of thing,” the older one said.
“Yeah, right,” Tony answered with mild sarcasm. “Anyway, if I decide I want you to leave, you leave. No arguing, no bullshit, no nothing. Are we clear about that? If not, leave now.” He waited until they both answered him affirmatively then offered them a seat on the couch. Tony then went into his kitchen and refilled his cup with fresh coffee, returned to the living room and took a chair across from the two intruders.
“Coffee smells good,” the younger one said, obviously looking for an offer.
“It is good,” Tony replied as he set the cup down on the coffee table between them. “Show me your fed creds again.”
As the two agents pulled out their badge and credentials cases, Tony picked up a pen and pad of paper he had on the table. He took the older man’s and wrote down his name and other information, then did the same with the younger man’s.
“Why are you bothering one of our agents about Leo Balkus?” the older agent asked.
Tony sipped his coffee and asked, “Why do you want to know?”
“Look, Carvelli,” the younger man said, “we’re the FBI and we ask the questions.”
“This is my house sonny and I can throw your ass out of here whenever I want to so can the attitude.”
“We still want to know why you’re interested,” the older man said trying to calm things down. “There’s an ongoing investigation and we don’t want you messing it up. You’re an ex-cop, you know these things.”
Tony thought it over for a few moments then said, “Fine, no problem. I’ll steer clear. Anything else?” Tony pleasantly said.
The two agents gave each other a slightly puzzled look and the older man said, “Um, no, I guess not. Ah, thanks for your cooperation.” They then stood up, as did Tony, walked to the door and left. Tony stood at the front window sipping his coffee and watched them walk toward their car. While he watched them leave he thought: That is total bullshit. Investigation my ass. You didn’t show up at my house at seven A.M. to tell me to back off because of an investigation. There’s no investigation going on or my pals in the MPD would know. What the hell’s going on here?
FIFTY-ONE
Bruce Dolan hung up the phone on his desk, swiveled his chair around and sat staring out of one of the windows in his corner office. There was a three acre pond surrounded by large cottonwoods, some of which were close to a hundred years old, behind the building that housed his office.
Normally on a beautiful summer day the pond, the trees and the wildlife, including an occasional deer, would be a lovely site, even for someone as cynical as Dolan. Today, however, his mind somewhere else, he was looking at the scenery but not seeing it. He couldn’t suppress the feelings of unease, anxiety and dread he was dealing with. Ever since Leo had discovered the missing files and DVDs, Dolan couldn’t shake the feeling that events were spinning out of his control. What originally seemed like a good idea, simple even, was now like sand slipping through his fingers.
Leo had an employee, an up and coming mid-level dealer, facing serious prison time. His name was Rolando Young and he was a bright, twenty-four-year-old black man that served as Leo’s drug liaison in the African-American community in Minneapolis. Rolando was the conduit for Leo to supply drugs to street level dealers. He was excellent at his job, was an outstanding source of revenue and had a bright future in Leo’s organization.
Rolando had been arrested a few months ago on an aggravated assault charge for collecting from an overdue dealer a little too zealously. The dealer was becoming his own best customer and had fallen behind on payments. It wasn’t the money as much as the opportunity to send a clear message to all of the street level dealers. If you want to drive an Escalade, you have to pay for it.
The problem had been that this particular dealer-junkie had a cousin with the MPD. His cousin got out of him who it was that had given him the beating and Rolando was arrested. A few bucks changed hands and Rolando’s case had been assigned to Gordon Prentiss. To allow everything to settle down Dolan had managed to drag the case out a lot longer than it should have taken to give the junkie witness time to change his story. This valuable employee of Leo had to be protected and with Prentiss leaving for Washington before the case could be tried, this could be a serious problem. Thus the phone call Dolan had just finished, the one that left him feeling uneasy and caused him to stare out the window.
On the other end of the call, Ike Pitts, the person who had been talking to Dolan hung up the phone and waited for his master to speak.
“Call Charlie Dudek. I have a job for him.”
“You’re gonna bring that psycho up from Kansas City? I can take care of the Prentiss broad,” Ike said.
“No,” Leo said from his desk chair slowly shaking his head at Ike who was sitting on a corner of the desk. “This is a little delicate and I don’t want anything that can be traced back to us. The judge needs to get the message loud and clear. He stays right where he is. Get a hold of Charlie today. I want him up here as soon as he can get here.”
“Okay, boss,” Ike said.
As Ike stood up and started to leave, Leo continued by saying, “We’ve got another problem.”
“What’s that?” Ike asked.
“Sit down,” Leo gestured at a chair. “I’ve been thinking about that tech kid, Andy. That reminds me, we’ll need another tech guy.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Good. Anyway, this kid Andy, how would he know which files to take? He was a good tech guy but didn’t know shit about anything else. How would he have figured out the best files to steal and why? Plus, how did he access the file cabinets? Something’s not right there.”
“Then who else?” Ike asked. “Who could’ve hacked into your computer? Who else knew what to look for and how to get at it?”
“Maybe Conrad,” Leo said sounding a little uncertain. “I don’t know how he could’ve accessed the file cabinets and I don’t know if he has the computer skills to hack into mine.”
“What about Dolan?” Ike asked.
“Yeah, I thought about him. He would know what files to grab and what to do with them. He could figure out a blackmail scheme. But I really don’t see him doing it.”
“You trust him a lot more than I do.”
“Look, you get a hold of Charlie and get him up here. Tell him it’s a rush job and there’ll be a bonus in it for him. For now, I’ll do a little digging. Conrad’s a little too valuable for us to go after the way we did with Andy. But I need to find out what happened.”
The next day, shortly after noon, Leo met with Charlie Dudek in his office. Charlie was a professional killer who lived a quiet life in a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri. One of the things that made Charlie so effective was the fact that he was about as ordinary looking as any man could be. At five feet eleven, one hundred sixty five pounds his physique was about as average as average could be. His light brown hair was totally unnoticeable and if five people saw him and described him, there would be five different descriptions. And if his neighbors knew what he did, they would be shocked down to their toes.
What did not show from his appearance was his background. Charlie had spent ten years in the Army, the last four with the super-secret Delta Force. He had been trained by the very best instructors to kill in so many different ways he could not remember all of them. Charlie was also absolutely fearless. During the battle for Tora Bora in Afghanistan, when the U.S. was hunting Osama bin Laden following the 9/11 attacks, it was Charlie who went i
nto the caves and only Charlie who ever came out.
He had arisen early that morning and made the six-hour drive to Minneapolis nonstop. Leo had a waitress bring in some lunch and Charlie ate while Leo told him about the job.
“It should be no big deal for you. She’s home alone all the time. A couple days to check out the place, then in and out.”
“I don’t like to be rushed,” Charlie said wiping his mouth with a linen napkin and setting his plate aside on the coffee table. “I want one fifty for it, half upfront, nonrefundable. I’ll check it out. If I decide to go ahead, I’ll just do it and you can wire the rest afterward. If I decide it’s too risky, too much of a rush or whatever, then I walk and keep the seventy-five grand for my trouble. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Leo said knowing full well Charlie would not have a problem and would accomplish the task. “Leave no trace of anything. I want her husband to know I can get him anytime I want. Don’t steal anything. Make it look like a straight hit pure and simple.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Charlie replied.
FIFTY-TWO
Gordon Prentiss stood in the front door foyer of his house moving his head around, listening to a strange noise he was hearing. It was a muffled sound, very much like a television set from a distance. He walked into the living room and set his suit coat and briefcase on a chair. The TV in that room was not on, but as he turned his head to look at it, his right ear picked up the direction the sound was coming from. Gordon walked quickly past the stairway leading up to the second floor and stopped at the recessed, double-doors at the entrance to his study. He stopped for a moment to quietly listen and he could feel the blood rising to his face as his anger grew. He grabbed the handles of both of the sliding doors and flung them open into the recessed space in the wall.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed at his wife.
Startled, Catherine looked up at him from the chair behind his desk. She had been watching the DVD that Prentiss had obtained from Bruce Dolan. Strewn across the desktop were the still photos of her husband in various kinky sex scenes.
“What am I doing?” she said as she stood up, her surprised look replaced by anger and disgust. She pointed at the television screen and said, “What have you been doing, you disgusting pervert?”
He started angrily walking toward her and just before he reached the desk, Catherine scooped up several of the photos and threw them at him. As she did so, he stopped, put his hands up in front of his face to protect it from the pictures.
“You sick twist,” she snarled. “I knew your precious daddy,” she continued mockingly, “had screwed you up, but this…” she said as she waved her arms across the desk and again pointed at the TV.
Gordon, having regained his furious attitude, almost ran the last few steps around the desk to get at her. Catherine tried to back away from him, but the large leather chair was blocking her way. She put up her hands to try to defend herself, but he simply slapped them aside with the back of his left hand. With that same hand Gordon grabbed the front of her blouse and jerked her toward him as he slapped her across the side of her head.
She squealed when he hit her and tried pleading with the monster to stop. Instead, still holding her blouse, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out from behind the desk. All the while she kept pleading, screaming and begging him to stop which in his state of uncontrolled rage, he totally ignored.
Gordon threw her face down on the den’s leather sofa, grabbed one of the small throw pillows on it and jerked her over onto her back. As she looked up at him in horror, certain her life was about to end, he took the pillow in his right hand and forced it down over her face. With his left hand he held her down while she tried to scratch and claw him with her hands in an effort to break free. He sat on her stomach and held her this way, her struggles slowly diminishing, for over a minute.
At the point where she had given up and completely succumbed to her impending death, he removed the pillow and stood up. Gordon stood over her, the infuriated look still on his face, watching his wife gasping, hacking and coughing trying to fill her lungs with life giving air. When she began to breathe normally again, he reached down, again grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off of the couch. She went to her knees, only this time she made no attempt to protest or ask for mercy. With both hands he reached under her arms lifted her off of the floor and tossed her through the open doorway and onto the hallway floor.
As he was sliding the doors together to close them, he looked down at Catherine and said, “If you ever disobey me again I will kill you!” She looked up at him with an impassive, almost indifferent look on her face as he slammed the doors together.
After throwing Catherine out of his den, Gordon spent a few minutes picking up the photos, removing the DVD from the player and generally straightening up the small room. He then placed the photos and DVD in a small safe he had in the credenza behind his desk. He felt like a fool for leaving the DVD in the player and the photos in the middle desk drawer. It never occurred to him that Catherine might get curious about what she had caught him looking at or that she might defy him and search through his private affairs. Oddly, he was even somewhat embarrassed about what she had found.
Gordon made sure his safe and desk were securely locked and then locked the den’s double doors as he was leaving. He walked around the first floor looking for Catherine. Not finding her, he assumed she was in her room, sniveling, whimpering and feeling sorry for herself he thought with disgust. He grabbed his coat and briefcase off of the chair where he had left them and went out the front door to his car.
Catherine had stayed on her hands and knees on the hallway floor outside Gordon’s den for almost two minutes. Her head cleared and her breathing returned to normal. She used the stairway wall as a support, got to her feet and half-walked, half-crawled up the stairs and into her room. She collapsed into her bed and despite what Gordon might believe, she didn’t whine, whimper or feel sorry for herself at all. She laid on her bed for a while and a few minutes later heard the front door open and close when her husband left. Despite the ferocity of Gordon’s attack, she wasn’t hurt badly at all. Once the initial fear of being suffocated wore off, she assessed the actual damage and realized he had done far worse to her in the past. Catherine was quite calm and this latest episode only served to strengthen her resolve for what she had to do.
Ava Hammond reached across the table, took her friend’s hand and held it gently, reassuringly to encourage Catherine to continue. Ava found herself dealing with a broad array of emotions while she listened to Catherine unburden herself about that afternoon’s events. Mostly what Ava was feeling was disgust with a strong mixture of increasing anger.
The two women were at a small Mexican restaurant not far from Ava’s office. The restaurant served a great margarita, one of which now sat on the table in front of each of them. It was the dinner hour, but neither woman was the least bit hungry so no meals had been ordered.
“The pictures and the video, you had no idea what he was up to?” Ava asked.
“No, I feel like an idiot about it but I had no clue. I knew he needs treatment, but this is a surprise. What a sicko. Since this happened, I am more determined than ever. But I have to have your help.”
“I don’t know…” Ava quietly responded. “I’m just, I’m just not sure I can do it. To tell you the truth, Gordon has always intimidated me, scared me a little and now this. Are you sure about this?”
“God, yes,” Catherine answered with a resigned sigh. “I can’t take anymore and I have to put an end to it. We’ve been over it enough times. I know you can do it. Please, help me,” Catherine said as she reached across the table and took both of Ava’s hand in hers.
They looked at each other like this for a moment and Ava finally said, “All right. I’ll be there.”
Unknown to both women Charlie Dudek was in his nondescript, dark blue Buick sedan across the street from the restaurant. He had been fo
llowing Catherine since his meeting with Leo. He watched the two women for two more hours while they talked their way through three more margaritas.
Shortly after nine, just as it was growing dark, Catherine and Ava walked out the front door. Charlie watched them as they walked arm in arm toward their cars in the small parking lot. They gave each other an affectionate hug at Catherine’s car and he waited for her to drive out of the lot. Predictably, she turned toward home in the direction Charlie’s car was pointed and he pulled out into the light evening traffic to follow her.
Knowing where she was going and with the aid of his cars GPS, he was able to keep a discreet distance. Charlie saw her turn into her driveway. He killed his lights and slowly cruised up the street and parked across from the Prentiss home to watch her. He saw her from the light of the backyard motion light as she slowly walked from the unattached garage to the back entryway. As she passed through the door he said, quietly to himself, “It would be easy to take her right now. Soon enough, soon enough.” He turned his headlights back on and drove back to the motel where he had a room.
Early the next morning Leo’s hit man was back on station several houses down the street from the Prentiss home. Shortly before eight, he saw a Lincoln MKZ pull out of the driveway and turn away from Charlie. He assumed that was the judge and continued his vigil.
He waited for another hour and a half during which there was no activity of any kind in the neighborhood. No cars drove past, no children out playing, no mothers or nannies pushing strollers. The absence of activity made Charlie a little uneasy at first. Then he realized this was a pretty pricey area; mostly expensive homes for older professionals. He had seen a lot of activity early, before seven, as these annoying over-achievers went to their offices early and likely stayed late.
About 9:30 A.M. he saw Catherine in her Lexus drive out of the driveway and turn down the street away from him. For the next fifteen minutes he followed her until she pulled into a small professional office building. The building’s sign read ‘Rothwell Medical Building’ and Charlie logically surmised Catherine must have a medical appointment of some kind.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 73
