by Paul Watkins
“I’m all ears, as that fellow Perot used to say.”
I smile.
“Yeah, but he really is all ears.” Jim smiles in return. “No, I mean there may be a way to tell where Espy is on this, I think. When we get to the meeting there’s going to be one or two more people there from their side. That’s a guess, but let’s go with it for now. If Espy’s the ranking guy there, then I think he’s doing a deal on his own. Probably one of the scenarios I mentioned, but still on his own… at least for now. If his boss or some other biggy is there, then we’ll know he has the organization behind him and this whole thing has been sanctioned from the beginning.
“If it’s the organization we’ll have to fall back and play for time. We’ll have a mini-war on our hands and we might lose. The one thing we can’t do is call in the police or the feds. They’re just not capable of helping us to any degree in a deal like this… they’ll chicken out when the going gets tough. Or they’ll never get to the part where the going gets tough. We’re talking years. Their main concern will be getting evidence that will stand up in court. In the meantime, we’ll be getting shot while they’re checking to be certain everything the bad guys are doing while they’re killing us is illegal.
“Worse, the fed lawyers really don’t want to take on the mobsters in court because they will probably lose and that’s not deemed to be a good career move. From a legal-eagle point of view, it would be the Yankees playing a sandlot team… and the mob is the Yankees. They can and will hire the best and the brightest talent available. The feds, on the other hand, seldom hire from the top ten percent of the law school class. They don’t have the bucks. And the few good attorneys on the fed scene are either too busy to deal with the likes of us, or are on their way to greener pastures.
“On the other hand, if Espy is doing the deal on his own, then I move we take him and his pals out right then and there. Chances are the organization doesn’t know anything about it anyway and we can finish them off and hit the road. It will be over and we’ll forget about it. Presumably the mob won’t follow up simply because they won’t know anything about the games he was playing. They might wonder what’s going on, but I think they’ll eventually move on.
I still can’t imagine a small restaurant operation like A.J.’s is going to attract any serious attention from these guys. Hell, it’s not like it’s the New York City docks, or the airport, or something really worthwhile… something they want to control because of all the cash lying around. It’s just too small to be a major item on their dance card.”
Hudson leans forward and rests his arms on his knees… he’s waiting for the punch line. It’s one thing I’ve always liked about Jim when it comes to this sort of thing… he’s a professional. This is just another business deal as far as he’s concerned. There’s nothingillegal in doing business with a bunch of crooks… at least nothing illegal as long as you don’t get caught. And so far we have never been caught. In fact, we have never come close to getting caught.
“I think it should just be the two of us, if that’s okay with you,” I offer. A.J. won’t be there or know anything about it. If it’s too big, we back off. If there are just a few of them and Espy’s running a game, then we do them and split. We don’t tell anyone now and we don’t tell anyone later.”
Jim nods in agreement.
“Whether I go in alone or we go in together will depend on what it looks like at the time,” I continue. “Hell, I don’t know. There are a hundred possible scenarios.”
Hudson doesn’t bother taking notes… either one of us could give the lecture.
“We’ll have to have a code and at least a basic plan for two guys and another one for three guys. I don’t think there’ll be four. If there are, then we’ll leave and go back later when we’ll have surprise going for us. I’m guessing two or three. When we start, we’ll have to be in a position to take at least one out instantly. We can’t afford to be thrashing around, making a lot of racket. It has to be quick. If anyone gets away, we’re screwed.”
Jim reaches out and micro-punches my shoulder.
“One of the guys was talking the other day and your name came up. He thinks you’ve changed. Thinks you’re more of a gentleman and probably not prepared to do what has to be done in certain situations.”
“Really? What’d you say?”
“I agreed… in part. I think you’ve changed, too. I told him I thought you had changed… for the worse… or the better, depending on your point of view. Not that you ever agonized over this sort of thing, but you seem to be a bit quicker on the draw these days. I think you were a little more idealistic when we were younger. The only difference I see now is that you’re more sure of yourself. What the hell, there’s no mystery to it. You can’t sit down and argue with these jerks… all you’re going to do is get hurt. This way they get hurt. Actually, they get dead… which is a bit worse… for them.”
“Jim, look… I’m not on any crusade here. I’m just trying to face facts. We have an operator coming on to us and it’s not a deal we can sit down and work out over coffee. The police are out… they have too many concerns that have absolutely nothing to do with solving the problem. So we cut to the bottom line. These guys aren’t used to dealing with people like us. They think they’re real bad actors… and they are. Problem is… we’re worse.”
Jim smiles quietly, indulging me in my discourse.
“I’m going to take him out, Hud. The little fuck, Espy, needs killing… there’s no other way. I wish there were, but there isn’t.”
Jim and I are old friends, but that smile is gettingto me. I feel as though I’m being patronized.
***
We have worked and worked on this thing, but there’s no way to anticipate the unknown. The only change we have made to the basic plan is for Hudson to go in with me rather than hang about outside. We’ll be on unfamiliar terrain and a few seconds delay could mean the ball game. Bottom line is Jim would prefer to be there from the beginning and I guess I have to agree with him.
One thing we know for certain sure… whatever we plan for… it isn’t going to happen. This deal has a certain feel about it… and the feel isn’t good. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s happening at all. I mean, why is life so complicated? We’re minding our own business and all of a sudden, before we know it, we’re getting heat from some cowboy who just wants to come in and take over. Just like that! Fortunately, by the time I get to this point in my deliberations, I’m so pissed off I can hardly wait for the meeting to happen.
And before we know it, the week is up and it’sshow time.
***
Driving to Long Island, Jim sits quietly in the passenger seat, sort of slumped in his seat with his elbow resting on his knee and left hand gesturing slowly to the cadence of his measured conversation. He seems at peace with himself and not at all what I would consider to be on edge in any way. No pregame jitters. He hasn’t met our adversaries, so he has no personal animosities cluttering his thinking. He doesn’t hate anyone, no one has gotten to him… he’s very objective about the whole thing. I expect this condition to last all of about ten seconds once he gets up close and personal with these characters. Especially Espy. Espy is going to piss him off… big time!
I have a different problem: I really don’t like this Espy character, so I am personally involved… and that’s not good. His demeanor was insulting. His cocksure manner and ‘we’re coming in whether you like it or not’ attitude really got to me. There’s no amount of discussion that would ever get us past someone like him. Muscle and violence is the answer to every problem in his world and he’s always in a position to outgun the opposition. He makes up his small mind and everyone is supposed to fall in line. If they don’t… something bad happens, but never to Espy. His past experience in this regard has made him complacent. Only this time it will be different… I hope.
We make
our way along the expressway until our exit appears and then drive through unfamiliar territory to the little town of Plandome, located on the island’s north shore. Not far from the city, Plandome is a bedroom community filled with seemingly normal houses in normal neighborhoods. Probably half the people in this town have apartments in the city, which may account for the large number of homes without lights. Or, perhaps, there’s some sort of local social event this evening. In any event, the directions are easy to follow and we eventually find our street.
“What do you think,” I ask looking at Jim, “is it worth going back and checking the route? We may have to leave here in a hurry.”
Jim shakes his head.
“Nah, it’s pretty straight forward. Besides, I’m not sure it would help anyway… let’s just get it over with.”
We drive slowly down the street looking at house numbers, but soon realize we’re way off. Our address is several blocks from our present location. Each block has a stop sign and we continue slowly, obeying all the laws. No need for complications at this stage of the game.
As we proceed down the street, the houses are getting a bit larger along with the lots they rest on. Some even have fences around their borders, further isolating them from their neighbors. Our destination is on the left and it emerges from the darkness without any particular impression. There’s nothing in its outside appearance to set it apart from any other house on the block. It’s a two-story building, made of wood and painted gray or some color that looks gray in the dark.
There are lights on the first floor, but the upstairs is completely dark. We’re about forty-five minutes early, giving us ample time to see if there is activity anywhere else in the house. We drive by and stop about a block away. Jim steps out of the car and slowly walks around the block, intending to approach the house from the rear if possible. I will wait here until he returns.
The time passes slowly. Finally, with about ten minutes to go before our deadline, I see Jim’s familiar figure turn the corner of the side street ahead and walk casually toward the car.
“I don’t see anything going on upstairs,” he begins as soon as he settles himself in the passenger seat. “I can’t tell for sure, but there appears to be three of them. One guy, pretty big from what I could tell, kept going to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator… probably getting beer. The other two were sitting in the living room talking. There wasn’t any other kind of activity… no TV, nothing going on.”
I nod. “Okay, that’s it then. We’ll assume there are three, but let’s give it a while to be sure once we’re in there. Listen for any other activity.” Jim nods.
I start the car and drive slowly towards the house, this time from the opposite direction and park directly in front. I leave the key in the ignition and the doors unlocked. It’s taking a chance, but I’d rather play the odds. I don’t think anyone will bother the car out here at this hour. When it’s time to leave, we will want to walk directly to the car and get in without fumbling for keys. We papered over the license plate with a phony license number. The masking tape will come off easily once we’re out of the area.
We walk slowly up the walk and climb the steps to the porch. Thankfully there are no lights on illuminating the entrance. It’s doubtful anyone would be watching, but one never knows. Our footsteps announce our arrival and the door opens before we can knock.
The man standing at the door is not Espy and he’s not especially big. Instead, he’s about my size, medium build and I would judge his age to be somewhere around late twenties or early thirties. He’s well dressed in a shirt and tie… his coat evidently not needed for the occasion. He looks at us without comment and allows us to enter before immediately closing the door behind us.
“That’s far enough for now,” he tells us in a matter of fact tone of voice. “Let me check you out and then you can go on in.”
He quickly and expertly frisks Jim and immediately turns up the gun he carries under his left arm in a shoulder holster. He appears somewhat surprised and a little amused at his find. I hold up my hand and fish out my weapon, located in a similar holster.
“Nothing to do with tonight’s activities,” I offer. “More a sign of the times. We always carry weapons when we travel to the city at night.”
He accepts my weapon without comment and turns towards the living room. Espy is seated in a large high-backed chair and makes no effort to rise as we enter.
Our escort holds up the guns and comments, “They were both carrying … can you believe it?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Sign of the times he says,” nodding his head in my direction.
He puts the guns on the fireplace mantle and stands nearby, leaning back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Very relaxed.
The large man Jim saw does not appear to be anywhere around.
“Where’s Jackson?” Espy asks from his chair. “I thought I made it plain the last time we met… I expected him to be at this meeting.”
“I’m sorry, but when we talked, I didn’t know what his schedule was like,” I explain. “I thought it would be better to have the meeting tonight than to put it off. Mr. Jackson’s schedule is next to impossible to predict. He travels constantly.”
“That may be,” Espy replies, “but you had better get something straight right now… and this goes for Jackson, too… when I say something, I mean it and I expect you to do it. If Jackson has to change his schedule, then that’s what he does. Got it?”
“Yes, but…”
“No yeah, buts… you just shut up and do it!”
“I’m not sure you understand what drives Mr. Jackson’s schedule,” I persist. “He’s not sitting around waiting for you or me to call and tell him there’s a meeting somewhere. He has contractual commitments all over the country and there are simply things he cannot change at a moment’s notice. And in his business, sometimes a week or a month can be a moment’s notice.”
Espy listens, but his anger is obvious.
“I’m not going to beat this subject to death,” he explains quietly. “I might beat you or your friend, here, to death, but I’m not going to waste any more time on it. In the future, listen close. If I say it, it’s a done deal. You mess with me, you get a lot of pain… maybe toomuch pain.” He looks at me intently, quickly to Jim and then back again to me. “Anything I’m saying too complicated for you to understand? If it is, spit it out.”
I take a breath and nod my agreement before speaking.
“I think we understand one another. Can we discuss our business or are you going to insist on Mr. Jackson’s presence?”
“Can you speak for Jackson?”
“I can.”
“Good, then you can play the messenger-boy as well as anyone else. This will be short and sweet. We don’t have to change any records or anything like that. We’re basically taking over your restaurants. All cash will come into our accountant. Any money we put up will go in the same way. We’ll put some people on the payroll, but they will not be in the way, ‘cause they’ll never be there. Any personnel changes will have to be approved by me. Any money spent will have to be approved by me. You guys will get a cut, but probably not as much as before… in fact, I can guarantee it won’t be as much as before.” He laughs and looks at the doorman. “Right, Mike?”
Mike smirks and nods his head, sharing in the merriment.
Pleased with the all-around agreement, Espy smiles and nods his head in turn.
“Right. So, now that we’re all in agreement, here’s how we’ll proceed. I’ll want you to furnish the books and personnel lists to Mike and he’ll give them to our accountant in the morning.”
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to get things together that quickly,” I interrupt.
“Wrong,” Espy snaps. “I don’t care if you guys work all night. I’ll want it in the morning.” He glares at me. “And anoth
er thing… remember what I said… if I say it, it’s a done deal.”
“But that’s unreasonable,” I stammer, trying to appear flustered and somewhat frightened. “I’m not sure even where some of the records are… I would have to get in touch with our accountant, and I’m not at all certain of his whereabouts. And Mr. Jackson would have to have some idea of what’s going on. And …”.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Espy asks, rising from his chair. “No matter what I say, you simply don’t seem to understand how to do what I tell you. When I say something, you do it. It’s not a debate and it’s not a discussion. You do it!”
Espy walks over to me and without warning slaps me hard across the face with his open hand.
“Does that help you any?” He stands waiting for a reaction. “How about this?” Again he lashes out and hits me hard with the back of his hand.
My upper arms twitch involuntarily and my fingers tingle with my inability to completely suppress my reaction. An instant later I feel adrenaline surge through my body, screaming for release. I hold my hand to my face and look down at Espy.
“Believe it or not,” I reply, “it does help. I know exactly what to do now.”
“Good… maybe we’re making progress here.” Espy looks at Mike and smiles. “Tell him, Mike. There’s more where that came from.”
Mike simply smiles. Both are confident with their world. Everything is so simple.
“Is this your entire organization?” I ask, still rubbing my face where he slapped me. “Is there anyone else we can expect to coordinate with?”
The question is simple and meant to disarm. I want to appear to be cooperative without prying, but Espy doesn’t rise to the bait.
“You know all you need to know,” he replies.
I pause, trying to give the impression of deep thought. Actually I am in deep thought… trying to decide whether or not to take these guys on the spot and hope to find the other guy, or try something else to bring him out. I hate to start something without all the players on the floor. The alternative is to leave and circle back, betting everyone will be in one room, celebrating their victory. I look at Hudson, silently seeking advice, but all he gives me is a blank stare. I don’t think he cares what we do at this point, as long as we do something.
