by Scott Pratt
The image on the screen showed a group of men in suits, standing, it appeared, on the steps of a courthouse. An attorney was addressing several media members who had gathered around.
“Any of this look familiar?” Birchfield asked.
Billy took a long look and shook his head. “Where is it?”
“Federal court, here. It was the end of the Allied Global Shipping trial back in 2012. I assume you remember that.”
“Sure. I had already left the law firm in Atlanta by then, but I remember it well. Shipping fraud, organized crime. It had a lot of moving parts, and there was a lot of money involved. I know we got convictions.”
“Well,” Birchfield said, “the three guys behind the lawyer here were a big part of that operation. See the one on the right? He was the brains. Name was Anthony Matranga.”
“I remember that now. Came from an old crime family in Sicily that had set up shop in New Orleans years ago. Why are you showing me this?”
“Because Matranga had a son who was already being schooled to take over the family business here. He ended up stepping right in when daddy went to jail. Has always used his mother’s maiden name. Romano.”
Billy’s eyes grew wide. “So that’s Frank Romano’s father? Where is he now?”
“Died in the state pen about a year ago,” Birchfield said. “Coincidentally, not long after that was when the stories about Junior started coming out. That’s about the time Sonny Bradley’s business really ramped up and he started chasing after players. And one in particular.”
“How did you put all this together?” Billy said.
“It wasn’t hard, just took a little digging online. Connecting the names was the toughest part. David Mettetal put me on the right path.”
“So what should we make of it? I mean, how does it factor into Jarvis disappearing and everything that’s been going on with me?”
“Seems pretty obvious now,” Birchfield said. “This is all about revenge, Billy. Frank Romano is trying to ruin you, one blow at a time. Jarvis Thompson is the biggest blow, for sure, but only part of the plan. Romano corrupted your brother and your girlfriend. He’s undermining your business and, really, your whole existence. I’m sure he won’t be happy until you have nothing left.”
Birchfield hesitated. “Then, who knows what he’ll do. Of course, he could have already had you wiped out by now if he wanted. This is all just a twisted game to him.”
Billy stood still for a moment and gave Birchfield a strange look, equal parts resolve and defiance.
“If that’s true, he should have done it before I knew what was going on,” he said. “I’ve never been a violent man, but I don’t have a whole lot to lose at this point. I’ll kill the son of a bitch if I get a chance. I owe it to John.”
The sound of that made Birchfield visibly uncomfortable.
“I just want you to know, Trey, you don’t have to be part of this,” Billy said. “You’re here to write a story, not chase criminals. This isn’t your fight.”
Suddenly that grin returned to the reporter’s face.
“Maybe not,” he said, “but I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Let’s go back out there tomorrow and see if we can’t find what we’re looking for.”
Chapter sixty-six
A restless night had turned into a somber afternoon, and the men were unusually quiet as they climbed into the Escalade. Billy kept imagining the scene where this nightmare would end. He wasn’t sure how, but Jarvis had waited long enough. All of them had.
They would make their move right after dusk.
Ever the enterprising reporter, Birchfield had been researching property records that morning and discovered that the warehouse buildings along the canal belonged to a company called Gulf Coast Cold Storage. The bulk of its business was blast freezing pork and poultry for export to Mexico. It once was the largest facility of its kind in the New Orleans area but hadn’t been in operation for more than a decade.
That begged the question: What would be going on there now that required the constant attention of several men? The answer seemed obvious.
Next question: What if it was a setup? What if Romano’s men had sent the text to Anita Fletcher, knowing she would pass it along to Billy? What if they were ready and waiting?
“We can still let the cops handle this,” Birchfield said, breaking the silence as the men settled into their seats. Billy had never given up on the idea, but now he was almost amused at the thought of walking into the New Orleans Police Department and trying to explain this whole thing.
He decided it was time to press on with the mission at hand.
“It may be damn foolish,” he said, “but I’m to the point where I’m ready to deal with Romano myself. He wanted to ruin me, to ruin Jarvis, and he’s done a pretty good job up to now. Let’s see how he handles the rest of it.”
“These are people who are used to dealing with messy stuff like this,” Birchfield said. “Are you afraid?”
“Not anymore.”
Daylight was fading as Billy retraced his tracks of the prior night. Finally, he made the slow turn off the road and into the old campground.
The car had barely rolled to a stop by the time he opened the glove box and retrieved the gun. He pulled a loaded magazine from his pants pocket and popped it in place. Billy stared intently at Birchfield, as if giving him another chance to back out.
“Let’s do it,” Birchfield said, brandishing his own weapon from a backpack. Billy did a double take.
“You have a license for that?” he said.
“Sure do. I used to do a lot of shooting up in New York, just for fun. I don’t think I’ve had this thing out more than twice since we moved to Tennessee, but I figured it might eventually come in handy on this trip. Two guns are better than one, right?”
“I know what your wife would say.”
“Let’s not tell her.”
Within minutes they were back in position at the industrial complex. There were two vehicles parked there this time – both dark SUVs. For all they knew, the third could show up at any moment.
Billy had noticed the previous evening how the dimly lit building had large areas of shadows just inside the door. If they could slip in unnoticed, there were plenty of places to hide and prepare a surprise attack.
A day of thinking hadn’t really yielded much of a plan. It had just given them time to muster all their nerve to take whatever action proved necessary. They knew things could get out of hand in a heartbeat. Birchfield just hoped he’d be the one to write the story.
The men were pondering the circumstances, crouched behind the same bushes and watching the entrance intently, when a rustling sound behind them broke their concentration. Before they had time to react, a dark figure appeared from nowhere, drawing a bead on them with an assault rifle.
“Drop the guns,” came the voice. They did as they were told and put their hands in the air. For a moment, at least, they prepared to die.
The man looked like a ninja, dressed in black from head to toe, and walked up to them cautiously. He stopped a few feet away and ripped off the mask he was wearing.
“Hello, Billy,” he said. “Long time no see.”
Billy strained to recognize the face. Then it registered.
“Dante?”
“You know this guy?” Birchfield said.
“It’s Jarvis’s brother … Jesus, man, you scared the hell out of us. How long have you been here?”
“I’ve been on the trail of these guys for almost a week now. If Jarvis is here, there’s a whole lot of hell about to come down on their heads.”
Dante surveyed the scene calmly.
“Let’s hope we’re at the right place at the right time,” he said. “It doesn’t look like anybody is expecting us. Go ahead and pick up your guns, and let’s back away for a minute.”
The men took cover and caught their collective breath. Billy hadn’t seen Dante in years, since Jarvis left home for college. Mark Fletcher had tried to track him down in the days after Jarvis’s disappearance but had no luck.
“What do you know about what’s going on here?” Billy said.
“There are three guys inside, and two of them rotate in and out. One guy stands watch over in the far corner. I’m assuming Jarvis is being held in that storage area.”
“So you haven’t seen him?”
“No, but I was just getting ready to shoot my way in when you showed up. I believe I can kill all three before they know what hit them.”
“It looks like you came prepared,” Billy said.
“More prepared than you guys. You sure you’re up for this?”
“We’re sure. I’m pretty good with a gun.”
“Do you know if Romano is here?” Birchfield said.
“These are just his thugs. He’s probably in town having a nice meal somewhere. We’re about to ruin his night.”
Billy smiled. For the first time in weeks, he felt in control again.
“Let’s see what the three of us might be able to do together,” he said. “I like our chances.”
Chapter sixty-seven
The men crept to the entrance, and Billy slowly tested the knob. Unlocked. He opened the door just a crack and held his breath, waiting for any sort of alarm to sound. There was none.
The men slipped inside and toward the back wall of a huge freezer compartment. They had to make their way across an open area but were quickly enveloped by the shadows, perhaps thirty yards away.
The sound of voices could be heard over the constant whine of a couple of space heaters. They came from the far corner of the building, and Billy craned his neck to try to get a look. He could see the back of a man’s head. Reddish, stringy hair. Tall.
The man turned and came into clear focus. Mean Gene, the sniper.
That likely meant Tommy was also on the scene, and it didn’t take long to confirm. The hysterical laugh echoed from an office area out into the cavernous building. Only one man sounded like that. Tommy was going through his usual routine with another guard.
Billy sat still and considered this for a moment. It was three on three, and his team had the element of surprise. He knew all of Romano’s men were surely well armed, but he hadn’t seen any weapons out yet. If the intruders could catch them off guard, this might end without complete chaos.
On the other hand, things could go horribly wrong. But Billy was prepared to do whatever it took to free Jarvis. He thought of his father. If it was a question of kill or be killed, his mind was already made up.
Billy motioned Dante close and was reminded of what a big, muscular man Jarvis’s brother was. He still looked like an athlete – one with a huge chip on his shoulder. Billy pointed to Gene and whispered, “Whatever happens, don’t let him get off a shot.” Then he went back to Birchfield. “We’ll go around the corner and take care of the other two,” he said. “Follow me, and stay down.”
Just as they prepared to move, a cell phone rang and Tommy walked out of the office. He had his back to Billy and Birchfield, who had taken a position behind a rusted forklift that probably hadn’t moved since the plant closed. The conversation lasted only a minute. It sounded like the boss was checking up on his henchmen and their prized prisoner.
“So Billy Beckett may pay us a visit?” Tommy said to no one in particular. “I don’t think he’s stupid enough to do that, especially after taking a ride with us, but we’ll be looking for him.”
Too late.
As Tommy stuck his phone back in his pocket, Billy took a deep breath and nodded to Birchfield. Now! Using the forklift as cover, they stood up and leveled their guns at Tommy.
“Police!” Billy yelled, without really thinking it through.
Tommy stood still, but Gene quickly reached for his gun and fire sprayed immediately from the barrel of Dante’s AK-47. Gene fell hard against the wall, eyes wide, blood streaming across the floor in all directions. The insurgents had caught him by surprise.
The third man fired wildly from just inside the office door, and he, too, was cut down in a hail of bullets. He laid still in the doorway.
“Why don’t I kill this one, too,” Dante shouted, a crazed look on his face as he placed the rifle barrel against the back of Tommy’s head. “Is this what you did to my father, little man?”
Tommy fell to his knees, seemingly resigned to his fate. “Please,” he said.
“No, Dante,” Billy said. “We need him. Trey, you keep him covered. If he moves, blow his head off.”
Billy and Dante quickly stepped over Gene’s lifeless body and tried to open the door he had been guarding. It was locked. They rolled the dead man over and dug the key out of his pocket. He held his breath as the knob turned and light streamed into the dark room.
There in the corner, dirty and exhausted, sat the football star everyone had been searching for. Jarvis looked up and just shook his head.
“It’s over,” Billy said as he knelt and wrapped his arms around his protégé in a long-awaited embrace. “It’s finally over.”
Dante kissed his brother’s cheek and helped him to his feet, but Jarvis wasn’t free just yet. He still had one ankle chained to the wall.
Billy walked back outside to where Tommy was face down on the floor.
“Tell you what, asshole,” he said. “You’re going to change places with our man here. Where’s the key? And the phone, too, while you’re at it.”
Tommy tossed both out beside him and looked up at Billy. “You can’t just leave me here,” he said.
“Why not? We’re leaving your best friends with you. And I’m sure somebody will be coming along for you soon.”
Billy knelt down and released Jarvis, who leaned on his shoulder and limped unsteadily from the room. He glared at Tommy. The short man suddenly looked a whole lot smaller.
“Where’s the appreciation?” Tommy said. “You know we could have taken any of you out anytime we wanted. But we didn’t.”
“You probably should have – and you would have if your boss had told you to. Now get up. Your room is ready.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Dante said. “I’m going to put the cuffs on him and take him for a ride. He’s going to show me where they buried my old man. Somebody has to pay for that, too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tommy said.
“You remember Charles, don’t you? People in town said the last time anybody saw him, he was getting into a car with you and your friend over there. You’re going to show me the grave, and hope I don’t put you in a hole right beside him. I can’t promise anything.”
“Their boss said he was buried in a sugarcane field outside town,” Jarvis said. “They killed him.”
Billy nodded. “There’s just one more little item of business here,” he said, turning to Tommy. “Tell me where Romano is.”
Chapter sixty-eight
Before the answer could come, a man at the back door caught everyone by surprise. He was posing in the entranceway, a sawed-off shotgun braced against his shoulder. It was pointed at Billy.
“I guess this is the part where I say, freeze,” the man said. “And, uh, drop those weapons.”
Dante hesitated for a split second … and then complied with the others. They all stood still, fixated on the tall stranger in the hooded sweatshirt. The tables had turned again, it seemed. What now?
The bearded man motioned them against the wall.
“Who are you?” Billy said.
“You asked for a Romano, and now you’ve got one. I was just stopping by to check on things, and glad I did. Looks like all hell has broken loose here. My father said you might come, but you were a little early. You obviously caught Gene over there by surprise, and tha
t’s not easy to do. Congratulations.”
Paul looked down at the bodies on the floor and shook his head.
“A messy business, just like Dad said. Now kick those guns away, and don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to have to kill anybody just yet.”
“Paul Romano?” Billy said.
“That’s right. We’ve never met, but I think we have a mutual friend. I know a lot about you, Billy Beckett.”
“Wish I could say the same. Rachel never mentioned you.”
“I’ll bet not. She’s a good girl, and there was never much to tell.”
Paul eased out of the doorway with his eyes focused on the group. He reached out with his foot and slid the guns to the far wall.
“All right, gentlemen,” he said, “toss your phones over there – I’m sure you’ve all got one – and let’s walk into the football player’s room. By the way, how were the accommodations, Jarvis?”
Jarvis kept his head down and hobbled toward the room, bracing himself against the wall. The others slowly began to follow.
“What are you planning to do here?” Billy said. “You don’t want to make things worse than they already are.”
“You’re right. I want to make everything better for my father, and that means cleaning up this mess. There’s a lot here that needs to disappear in a hurry.”
Paul flashed that wicked Romano smile, causing Birchfield to look warily at Billy.
“Let me help,” Tommy said, stepping away from the group. Paul quickly waved him back into line with the shotgun.
“Not this time, Tommy. You’re going with the others. And that includes our dead friends here. Each of you, grab an arm.”
The blood smeared across the floor as the bodies were dragged into the rear of the small room.
“Everybody back,” Paul said. He reached up with the barrel of his gun, shattered the light bulb and closed the door. The men could hear the deadbolt engage. They were officially prisoners.
The windowless room was almost completely dark, except for small slivers of light that squeezed through cracks around the doorframe and illuminated their faces.
