"Thanks, by then I'll need it."
"I love you, baby."
"Love you, too. See you tonight."
He hung up, and gazed at the ceiling.
They had made it. Thank God, they had made it.
***********
In a sparsely furnished room just outside the grand jury chamber in the U.S. Post Office and Courthouse in Boston, agents Russo and Fernandez were listening to the last-minute briefing being given to R.J. by Assistant U.S. Attorney Angus McNamara. The young, well-dressed prosecutor was very explicit with his instructions.
"When I ask you a question, give me as much information as you can. You already know which questions I'll ask, so there shouldn't be any problems or surprises. And stick to the personal experiences you had with Mr. Cabraal and Mr. Bultaco. Downplay your own role. Focus on the things you saw, not heard. Conjecture and hearsay don't get indictments. First hand accounts do."
R.J. was nervous and irritated.
“Look, man, I just finished a gig like this down in Miami. Just make sure the government keeps their end of the deal when this is over. Once the indictments are handed out, I'm gonna need to be stashed."
"You should have thought about that before you chose your current lifestyle, Mr. Jenkins," said McNamara. The look in his eyes was cold and pitiless. To him, informants were nothing more than necessary evils.
R.J. looked away in frustration.
McNamara checked his watch. To Russo and Fernandez he said, "I have to go inside. Keep Mr. Jenkins occupied, I'll send for him in a minute."
After gathering up several folders and his brief case, he turned and walked from the room.
R.J. looked at Russo. "Real nice fella," he said.
"He's doing his job," said Russo, casually.
"Shit, if it wasn't for guys like me, guys like him wouldn't have a job. You guys got lucky with me, that's all."
"So what are we supposed to do," spat Fernandez, "thank you for it? And watch who you insult, or you might fall down and bust your lip."
"All right, enough," said Russo, waving them off. "We may not like each other, but we're in this together for now. Once it's over, we can all go our separate ways and forget we ever met."
Just then, an aging man with gray hair poked his head into the room. "Mister Jenkins? They're ready for you. Come with me, please.
Chapter Nine
Adrian leaned across the passenger seat and opened the car door. He couldn't help but smile as Andy charged down the sidewalk, waving with one arm while clutching a Frisbee under the other. Without a doubt Andy was the sunshine of his life, the one person who could pick him up simply by being himself.
After nearly colliding with the BMW, Andy leaped inside the car and flung himself at his father. Hugging him as hard as he could, he said, "It's great to see you, Dad. I really missed you. I mean, really."
"It's only been a day-and-a-half," said Adrian, beaming. "I guess I must be pretty special."
Andy hugged him again. "You're the most special Dad in the whole world!"
Then, disengaging, Andy’s mood changed. There was curiosity in his voice. "What about me, Dad? Do you think I'm special?"
Adrian took Andy's face in his hands and, holding him at arm's length, looked deep into his eyes. "To me, you're the most special person there is. Of all the boys I could have gotten, God gave me and mama the best one on the first try. That's why I thought we'd spend some time at the park tonight. Today you went to the beach with your mom, tonight you get to go to the park with me. It's really important to me that you know how much I love you. Nothing will ever change that."
Reassured, Andy seemed content to let the matter drop. "Ready to go play, Dad?"
"Play?" asked Adrian, pretending to be unsure. "Did I say we'd go play?"
"Yup, you sure did. See? I even brought my Frisbee."
"Then that's what’s up." Inwardly, Adrian was beaming. The longer he was away from the cocaine and the business, the better things kept getting.
*********
Serrano picked up the two envelopes and slipped them inside the breast pocket of his blazer. Looking at Russo and Fernandez, he asked, "Ready?"
Russo gave the thumbs-up.
"Okay, let's do it."
**********
Seated on the edge of the bed, Adrian was tucking Andy in for the night.
"Do I really have to go to bed, Dad?"
"Come on, now. A deal's a deal. You promised to hit the deck if I let you stay up and watch TV. You wouldn't go back on a promise, would you?"
Andy frowned. "No, but that’s because mama doesn’t like cartoons. Besides, I want to stay up with you some more."
"I know, but grown-ups get to stay up later than kids. It's one of the few advantages of being a grown-up. But don't worry, we'll do something tomorrow. Besides, if you see too much of your dad, you might get tired of me."
Andy solemnly shook his head from side to side. "That'll never happen. I'll never get tired of you." Then he sat up and wrapped his arms around Adrian's neck and hugged him.
"You're the best dad there is. I love you, daddy."
Adrian returned Andy's embrace, and took time to cherish the moment. How could he have known Andy would make him this happy and mean as much as he did? This little guy was priceless.
He held him a moment longer, then eased him back down on the bed.
"I love you, too, big guy. You'll always be my special boy. Don't ever forget that."
Leaning over, Adrian snapped on the nightlight and turned off the lamp. Then he looked down at Andy and smiled.
"Say your prayers, okay?" That was something he’d tried to cultivate with Andy, a healthy relationship with ‘Someone Bigger’ than him. It was a throwback to his own childhood when his parents had reared him on a religious upbringing, maybe too religious. In time, Adrian had rebelled against it and had drifted further and further away from the things he’d learned. As he did, he’d also felt less and less connected to the things in life that were decent and wholesome. Looking back, he realized that same drifting had led him into the world to teenage drinking and partying, and later into drugs. The religious ‘scared straight’ philosophy hadn’t worked. And without realizing it, having no spiritual anchor to grasp on to, he’d gradually drifted even further until he he’d found himself in the criminal netherworld, wondering how he’d gotten there. Twenty-twenty hindsight was great, but where was it when the process was actually developing. One thing he was sure of, he didn’t want that same sequence of events to happen to Andy. Looking at him, his life, his optimism, his innocence, the last thing he wanted was for Andy to follow in his footsteps.
"Sure, Dad. I'll even say an extra one, so you and me and Mom can be together forever."
"You do that."
"Are you going to bed in a little while, too?"
"I'm going to watch some TV first. You just make sure you don't sneak into bed with me and Mama in the middle of the night." Especially now that he’d been content to sleep in his own room again.
"I won't. I promise."
"Good. Now go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Love you."
"Love you, too, dad."
Adrian got up and walked out to the living room. Instead of turning on the TV he sank down onto the couch and breathed deeply. It had been a busy day.
He stretched and rubbed his eyes, then ran his fingers through his hair. His son lay in the next room. It felt as though having him there was part of his new lease on life, his second chance at becoming a decent man. The thought made his eyes water. If only he'd known. All the money, power and cars in the world weren't worth losing his family. He'd despised the business, and hated himself for getting involved in it. He couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to become so thoroughly seduced. He had been raised by two loving, God-fearing people, who hadn’t taught him the things he'd adopted. He'd done that on his own, and it had almost cost him everything and everyone that mattered to him.
He was on the verge of tears w
hen Andy rounded the corner. Squinting against the light, he smiled at Adrian with love and admiration. Adrian swallowed hard and composed himself, then held out his arms.
Without saying a word, Andy walked to him, climbed up on his chest, and lay down. Adrian held him closely, and gently scratched his back. "Can't sleep, huh?"
"I can sleep. I just wanted to see you one more time. Are you mad that I got up?"
"No way."
Andy snuggled against his shoulder. He murmured sleepily, "Good, Dad, 'cause I really love you..."
Adrian closed his eyes, and cherished the moment, listening to Andy's breathing, as it grew deeper and more relaxed. When it became a soft snore, he reluctantly rose from the couch and gently nestled Andy in between himself and a large cushion beside him. After tucking him in, he bent down and gently kissed his son on the cheek. He stared down at the boy's peaceful, angelic face for a moment, then closed his eyes and began to drift off.
He was almost under when he heard a knock on the door.
Still bathed in the warm, loving glow that had been lit by his son, Adrian quietly rose from the couch, went to the door and opened it.
Frowning, he asked, "What can I do for you?"
"Adrian Cabraal?"
"That's right."
"Federal Agents. We have a warrant for your arrest."
Still groggy from nearly falling asleep, Adrian didn’t recognize Russo and Fernandez until they, and the several other agents with them, fanned out in his living room. Only then did he remember their faces from when he'd seen them at Paulie Lapienza’s murder scene. Suddenly, his revelries of the previous moments were shattered by the realization of what was happening: Federal agents had entered his home and were about to take him away. This wasn’t supposed to happen; he had already walked away from the business voluntarily.
He took a step back and motioned toward the bedrooms when Fernandez moved to handcuff him. "Don't get overzealous. I'm not going to resist. My son's asleep on the couch, and my wife's asleep in the bedroom."
"Sounds like maybe you’re the one who shouldn’t get overzealous, doesn't it?" said Russo.
Jennifer, her eyes heavily laden with sleep, entered from the bedroom. Staring warily at Serrano, Russo, Fernandez and the others, she asked, "What's going on, Adrian? Who are these men?"
"They're federal agents. Take Andy in the other room before he wakes up, then call Nathan Goldberg and tell him I've been arrested."
"Maybe you should talk to us first, Mr. Cabraal," said Serrano. "Maybe we can work out a deal."
Jolted though he may be, Adrian hadn't lost his instinct for protocol. "Forget it." The tone in his voice left no room for negotiation.
As Fernandez began cuffing him, Adrian added, "Jen, make that to call to Nathan Goldberg."
***********
By the time they reached their destination at the JFK Federal Building in Boston, Adrian could barely move his fingers, even with the handcuffs removed. He'd spent the forty-five minute ride to DEA headquarters with his hands clasped behind his back, sitting on them the entire trip. His circulation had been cut off, and the steel bracelets had left a deep indentation in his wrists. His hands looked like they had been dyed purple. Serrano had worked him over every minute of the trip, but Adrian had firmly stood his ground.
They took his fingerprints and filled out an array of arrest forms. When the last of these were finished, he was led to a small, drab room and seated at a plain wooden table. So far, the whole experience was unfolding like a bad dream, and once again he was glad he wasn't high on anything. He couldn't imagine what that would have been like under these circumstances.
With Russo and Fernandez manning silent posts at either end of the interrogation room, Serrano pulled up a chair and sat down across from him. The agent regarded him for a moment, then clasped his hands and plunged in.
"All right," he began, "let's get down to business. You're facing up to thirty years in a federal prison for drug dealing and conspiracy charges under the RICO Act, and it's safe to say we'll get our conviction if we go to trial. I say that because over ninety-five percent of the cases we try end in our favor. But you know what? This may surprise you, be we aren't interested in prosecuting you."
Adrian frowned inwardly, but showed no emotion. "You've got a strange way of showing it," he said.
"Then I'll spell it out for you," said Serrano. “We consider you a reservoir of information. That's why we've arrested you. Even though you’re a fair sized fish yourself, you're not the fish we want. You happen to know a lot of the fish we do want. And we want you to introduce some of our agents to them. That, in addition to letting us pick your brain, is all you have to do.
"Of course, if you decide not to cooperate, there's the alternative of the thirty-year prison term to consider. And from what I know of you and your wife and son, I doubt you could handle a thirty-year sentence. The choice is cut and dried, Mr. Cabraal. What will it be?"
Adrian's mind was a collection of jumbled thoughts, each one vying for his attention. This guy - this conniving prick -- had apparently found the chink in his armor by monitoring his conversations with Jennifer and Andy, and was attempting to use that bond to force him to betray everyone he knew. What Serrano didn't know was that Andy and Jennifer were the very reason he'd never cooperate. Serrano didn't realize that he'd carry his secrets to the grave rather than jeopardize his family’s lives. And he'd spend thirty years in a penitentiary, like a man, before he'd risk becoming an informant, and spending the rest of his life hiding out.
Determined to stand his ground, he looked Serrano in the eye, and said, "No deal."
"You're making a foolish--"
Adrian cut him off. "You're wasting your time. I'm not going to help you. Getting busted is an occupational hazard. It comes with the territory. If you want information, you'll have to get it somewhere else. If I'm going to be another notch in your gun belt, then let's get it over with."
Serrano studied Adrian closely, measuring the sincerity of his words. He sensed that Adrian's mind was made up – for now, at least; people had been known to change their mind - but he wasn't done yet. He had a trump card.
"You know, Mr. Cabraal, until now I've tried to reason with you. But I can get more convincing, if left with no other choice. We can get an indictment against your wife. It wouldn't be hard to convince a grand jury that she’s been in business with you. If that happened your son would be in a precarious position. More than likely, he'd become a ward of the State. That's a heavy price to pay just to protect a lot of people who feel no allegiance to you. As a matter of fact, it was one of your so-called 'friends' who dropped the dime on you. You don't owe them a thing. Why protect them at the expense of your family?"
Adrian's confidence was shaken under an avalanche of doubt. He had always assumed that he'd be the one they’d prosecute. It never occurred to him that they might go after Jennifer, too. She had never been involved in any of his dealings. She hated the business. She had never even witnessed his transactions. It occurred to him that Serrano might be grasping at straws, simply using scare tactics, and he was starting to fall for it. He had the urge to leap across the table and slap him. Instead, he drew satisfaction from the realization that he knew where he stood, and he wasn’t going to give in to him.
"Good luck," he said flatly. "If the United States government is so desperate that it has to prosecute women and children to make informers out of fathers and husbands, then I'll do my thirty years and move to another country when I got out. Do what you want."
Sensing that they had reached an impasse, Russo tried another tactic.
"Gerry, come outside for a minute. I want to have word with you. Lenny, make sure our friend here doesn't run off."
Outside, Russo made his point. "Don't waste your time with him. Not yet, anyway. Let him spend a night in jail first. He's never been locked up before. A night behind bars might soften him, especially if he starts thinking he might spend thirty years that way. We'll see how br
ave he is in the morning."
Serrano thought for a moment, then nodded.
"All right, lock him in the holding area. I'll see you first thing tomorrow."
Russo went back into the interrogation room. Adrian was surprised that Serrano wasn't with him. His absence seemed ominous.
"All right," said Russo, "that'll do it for tonight. We have other things to take care of. You're allowed one phone call. Use the phone in front of you, but keep it under two minutes."
"I don't need the phone," said Adrian, covering his confusion at their sudden change of heart. It was turning into a poker game. One minute they were raising the ante; the next minute they were folding their hand. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to play it out and see where it led.
"No phone call?" asked Russo, surprised.
"By now my wife has already made it."
"Okay, come with me."
He was led to a dismal looking detention area down the hall. The lighting was poor, the air was stagnant, and place looked cold and barren. As he was about to walk inside one of the cells, Russo stopped him.
"You wouldn't commit suicide on us, would you Adrian?"
"I think too much of myself," he answered, dryly. "Besides, if I committed suicide, how could you and I ever become lovers?"
"I'll have someone look in on you every so often just to make sure."
Adrian walked into the cell, looked at his surroundings then turned back to Russo.
"Like it in there?" Russo asked. "I hope so, because if you don't come over to our side, you're going to spend a lot of time in one of these. Think about that." He slammed the door shut, and a loud clang resounded through the cellblock.
It was a sound Adrian would never forget.
Chapter Ten
In court the next morning, Adrian felt naked and alone. He had asked Jennifer not to attend the proceedings. Only when he promised to meet her outside afterward had she reluctantly agreed. Then he saw his attorney, Nathan Goldberg.
Rules of the Game Page 7
