by Peter Ralph
“Yeah, get used to it, Devlin. We own you. Don’t worry, though, we’re not going to ask ya frequently. We’re talking maybe one game a season. We know that it’s not unusual for a quarterback to have one bad game a season. If ya last seventeen seasons, we’re looking at about the same number of games. The last thing we want is for you to get caught.”
“Who have you got on our defense?”
“You ask too many questions. Are you going to do what we want?”
“What choice do I have?”
“That’s a wise decision,” the voice said.
Phillip Cromwell couldn’t believe his luck when he and Mary were seated next to Mayor Sam Johnson and his wife, Jill, at the charity function at the St Regis. Many prominent business luminaries extended their best wishes to the mayor, and he introduced Cromwell and Mary to them as his close friends. Cromwell didn’t usually drink, but the mayor did and Cromwell, anxious not to offend him, let the waitress pour him a white wine. Three glasses later he was relaxed, lightheaded and in deep, one-on-one conversation with the mayor. The mayor was coarse and his jokes raunchy, and, had it been anyone else, Cromwell would have expressed his disgust. Instead, he laughed along with the mayor and patted him on the back. Unlike Lechte, who he envied, Cromwell had never been a man’s man, and he was enjoying the attention of the mayor and his powerful friends. He glanced over at Mary and heard the mayor’s wife invite her to morning tea at the Four Seasons next Tuesday. Cromwell was elated. Membership of the exclusive Hamptons Yacht Club had been his crowning social achievement, but now he was rubbing shoulders with New York royalty.
Chapter 15
After the meeting with Elliot, Todd had gone home and listed every friend and business contact he had. Then he’d gone over the list with a red pen in hand, asking himself two questions. Did they have access to five hundred thousand dollars? The first question eliminated three-quarters of the list. Of those remaining he asked himself the second question. Will they lend it to me? Five names were left.
He hadn’t seen two of the people on the list for over two years and didn’t know the other three all that well. What he did know was that they were loaded and the sum he was seeking was nothing for them. It was 2 A.M. when he turned the lights off but he couldn’t sleep. He had no doubt that Elliot, Ferguson and Fraser were gangsters and that they had set him up. Elliot had mentioned that he had a boss, but he was probably lying. Elliot also claimed that he was good cop, but Todd knew that he was a nasty piece of work. Exhausted, he finally drifted off. All too soon the clock radio snapped him out of a deep sleep. He was tired, felt like shit and his throat was dry. The thought of jumping on a plane and disappearing was enticing, but he knew that he was being watched. After lying in bed for another ten minutes, he jumped out and wrote the three remaining names down. He was wasting time for the sake of wasting time and was unlikely to forget the names of the only three people in the world who could save him.
After arriving at the office, the first person he called was on business somewhere in Africa and not contactable. The second person he called was cold and aloof and the vibes that Todd got told him not to bother asking. He’d studied with the third person, Wendy Thomson, got along well with her, and knew that she received a seven figure trust distribution from her father’s estate every year. She seemed genuinely pleased to hear from him, and they chatted about old times as he tried to build up the courage to pop the question. Surprisingly, Wendy was not shocked or unreceptive to his request. “If you let me have a business plan and some cash flow projections, I’ll see what I can do,” she said.
Todd grimaced. How would Wendy feel about a business plan centered on a failed betting system? She had misunderstood his needs, and he just couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he’d lost more than half a million betting.
Each night he came up with another person or way that he could pay off the debt. Each morning he woke up exhausted, stressed, depressed and without hope. One name that wouldn’t go away was Doug Lechte. Todd role-played throwing himself on Lechte’s mercy but wasn’t confident about how he would react, and in a worst case scenario he might find himself fired. The last thing he could afford was to lose his job. It took an enormous effort to focus on work during the day when he was carrying the worries of the world on his shoulders.
The call that Todd had been sweating over came just before midday. “Todd, it’s Jack Elliot. We’ve given you seven days and a few extra hours. Do you have our money?”
“I need more time.”
There was a long pause. “Hello, hello, are you still there?” Todd asked.
“We’ll always be here and you know we could give you five years, and it won’t make any difference. You still won’t be able to pay. I don’t want to talk on the phone, but you know what you have to do. Two little chores and your world returns to normal. It’s easy.”
“Yeah, I bet its two chores. You pricks will never be satisfied.”
“You have my word.”
“That hardly reassures me. I want to meet the big man, your boss, and have him tell me,” Todd said.
Again, there was a long pause. “All right. I’ll pick you up tonight. Be out in front of your apartment at eight o’clock and don’t give me any shit about having to work late. He’s a busy and important man.”
Todd was taken aback. He hadn’t even been certain Elliot had a boss. “You didn’t say that I’d agreed, did you? Because I didn’t. If I think he’s bullshitting about the two chores, I won’t even think about doing what you’re asking.”
“He knows. You might even like him. He’s a fun guy.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Todd said. “Where’s he live?’
“Manhattan. Not all that far from you. Look for a black limo.”
When Harry O’Brien got off the phone from Lou Gerrard, he was jubilant. The union boss had asked him to increase his offer to two hundred and fifty million, and the owners of Webb Transport would sell. However, O’Brien was surprised by Dermott Becker’s reaction to the news. “Harry, can’t you see what that little toad, Lou Gerrard’s up to?”
“It’s a good deal, Dermott.”
“Yes, it is a good deal but it could be better. Gerrard’s gone to them and said, guys, I can screw another fifty mil out of these pricks, but if I do, I want ten. So now he’s on ten from us and ten from them. It’s as obvious as the nose on your face. You should have told him to fuck off when he asked, and we would’ve had the business by now for two hundred. Instead, you said you’ll find out and get back to him. And you know what he did as soon as you said that. He went back to them and said, ‘It’s in the bag, I’ve got the extra fifty.’ Fuck!”
O’Brien had expected congratulations and praise rather than getting a berating. “It’s still a good deal. You said so yourself. We’ll make a fortune. The union will be in our pocket. Think about it, Dermott. What’s an extra fifty mil?”
Becker gripped the phone tightly. Harry had been a good operator but had become lazy. Physically he’d let himself go and was at least one hundred pounds overweight. Mentally, he was no longer sharp, and Becker pondered whether he ever had been. Perhaps O’Brien had outlived his usefulness? Becker hated being forced to make hard decisions as a result of the incompetence of others. He now had to throw the owners and Gerrard a bone, but it wasn’t going to be fifty mil. “Tell Lou that we’ll increase our offer to two hundred and twenty mil and that’s it. And Harry, don’t fucking call back with a counter offer. I’m not authorizing one cent more.”
The black stretch limo came around the corner at exactly eight o’clock and Elliot rolled down his window and shouted out to Todd, who opened one of the rear doors and climbed in. The windows were dark from the outside and transparent on the inside. He was surprised to see Ferguson and Fraser sitting opposite Elliot. There were bulges under their suit coats. “What are your goons doing here?” he asked.
“That’s not very friendly, Todd.” Ferguson smirked.
“The boss likes to make sure he�
�s got protection,” Elliot said. “Frisk him, Ferguson.”
“Do you think I’d be stupid enough to wear a wire?”
“He’s not looking for a wire,” Elliot said.
“You think I’m carrying a gun? You’re watching too many gangster movies.”
“The boss didn’t get where he is by taking stupid risks. Desperate men do desperate things,” Elliot said.
“I’m far from desperate.”
Dark glass separated the front from the rear and Todd had no idea who was driving but guessed it was another of Elliot’s thugs. The limo turned slowly into Madison Avenue and was crawling past a coffee shop when Elliot screamed, “Motherfucker! It’s him. It’s the stockbroker. Take the next left and go around the block.”
“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Todd asked.
“Shut up,” Elliot said, snatching the limo phone.
“Boss,” he said, “we just drove past a coffee shop and that little bastard Giovani was in there as large as life. What do you want me to do?”
There was a pause and then Elliot said, “Yeah, yeah, boss. I’m on it.”
“Go around to the coffee shop,” Elliot shouted at the driver. “Fraser, take Ferguson with you and make sure that slimy prick doesn’t slip through your fingers. Call me when you’ve got him.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Todd yelled.
“Calm down, kid. A short, unavoidable delay,” Elliot said as Fraser and Ferguson got out of the limo.
“Park around the corner and leave the engine running,” Elliot said to the driver.
“I didn’t buy into this. I’ll get out and walk home. I’ll meet your boss another time,” Todd said, but the doors were locked.
“Just sit there and shut the fuck up,” Elliot said, “this won’t take long.”
A few minutes later, Elliot’s cell phone rang and he shouted at the driver, “Go, go.”
Fraser and Ferguson were standing on either side of a squat, dark haired guy whose face was a sickly white. They hustled him into the limo and sat him between them. His hands were trembling, and Todd noticed two tiny tattoos on the inside of his wrists. Dollar bills.
“Hello, Giovani,” Elliot said. “Longtime no see. Why have you been avoiding us?”
“I-I have-haven’t.”
“We haven’t seen you for four months. Have you been vacationing in Italy?”
“No, no. I-I’ve jus-just been busy.”
Elliot banged on the dark glass and shouted, “Head to Chinatown.”
“What the hell is this? Let me out,” Todd shouted.
Elliot glared at him. “Here’s the deal, kid. You can keep your mouth shut or I’ll get Ferguson to shut it for you. Doing it yourself will be a lot less painful.”
Todd looked at Ferguson, and a cruel smirk crossed the thug’s face.
“Have you got our money, Giovani? It’s long overdue, and the interest is running.”
“I-I’m get-getting it. I-I’ll have it for you in a few weeks,” Giovani replied, and a tear ran down his cheek.
Elliot’s face turned bright red, and he screamed, “You’re a fucking liar. You pissed off without paying. You didn’t think we’d find you. Slimy bastard.”
“No, no. I-I was jus-just put-putting it to-together.”
“Is that right?” Elliot sneered. “If we drive to your place now, how much will you be able to give us?”
“I-I don’t have any-anything at home, but I-I’ve got a few deals ab-about to come off. Then I-I’ll be able to pay.”
Elliot reached over and picked up the limo phone. “He’s got nothing, boss.”
Elliot listened intently and then said, “Nah, not a cent. He said he’s waiting for a couple of deals to come off.” Elliot laughed.
There was a pause before Elliot said, “Yeah, it’s bullshit. What do you want me to do?”
There was a far longer pause and Elliot grinned. “Yeah, not a problem. You’ll send the truck? Yeah, about twenty minutes.”
Elliot looked at Giovani who was shaking, and dribble was running down his chin and onto his shirt. “The boss is not happy with you. Not happy at all. Give me your wallet. We’re going to drop you off in Chinatown and you can make your way home with no money.”
Todd watched as Fraser and Ferguson momentarily tensed up. Ferguson felt inside his suit coat, and his hand made the bulge even larger.
Ten minutes later the limo turned down a dark alley and stopped when it got to the end. “Get out, Giovani,” Elliot said.
Fraser got out first and held the door open. As Giovani got out, Fraser grabbed him and pushed him in front of the limo and onto the ground. “On your knees,” he shouted.
Ferguson got out the other side and withdrew his gun and screwed a round tube on the end of the barrel.
“What’s going on?” Todd shouted. “What are you doing?”
Elliot reached over and grabbed Todd’s neck and held his head firmly. “Watch,” he said. “Watch what happens to non-payers.”
Ferguson stood behind Giovani and pointed his gun at the back of his head. Todd heard phut, phut and saw two short yellow flashes. Giovani fell forward and didn’t move.
“No,” Todd screamed, diving for the open door. He vomited uncontrollably on the pavement and down the wall. “You-you didn’t have to do that.”
Ferguson pushed him back in the car and climbed in after him. The limo reversed down the alley, and as it reached the street, a truck loaded with forty-four-gallon drums pulled into the alley. Todd was shaking and couldn’t stop crying.
“That’s our clean-up truck,” Elliot said. “By the time they’re finished, there won’t be a sign of blood and Giovani will be in one of the drums. It’ll be full of quick setting cement within an hour, and two hours later it’ll be on the bottom of the Hudson. Vale Giovani.”
Elliot picked up the phone again. “It’s done, boss.”
He pushed the phone hard up against his ear so Todd couldn’t hear the response.
“You don’t think it’d be a good move to meet with the kid now? Sure, I understand, boss,” Elliot said and hung up.
He rested his hand on Todd’s knee and said, “Sorry about the diversion. The boss doesn’t think it’d be healthy for you to meet with him given the circumstances. He said that if you saw his face now you might have to go the same way as Giovani. We don’t want that, do we? You and I will sort out how you’re going to pay us. Don’t worry, we’d far rather get paid than do what we had to do tonight.”
Todd was deep in shock. He looked over at Ferguson and Fraser, and they were grinning like Cheshire cats.
“You gonna have a beer when we get back?” Fraser asked.
“Sure,” Ferguson said. “I’m hungry. We’ll grab a steak.”
Ten minutes later the limo pulled up in front of Todd’s apartment building. “Try and forget about tonight,” Elliot said. “Come up to my suite tomorrow night and we’ll work out how you’re going pay to us. Be there at eight. And Todd, go straight to bed. You look like you could use a good sleep.”
Todd could barely hold his key let alone get it in the keyhole. He finally pushed the door open and collapsed on the sofa. He’d known that they were thugs, but he’d never thought they’d resort to murder. Worse, they were so cold and dispassionate. Five minutes after killing Giovani they were talking about drinking beer and eating steak. It was obvious that he hadn’t been their first victim.
Chapter 16
Phillip Cromwell was euphoric. Sitting opposite him was Thomas Vanderbilt, a close friend of the mayor and senior partner of establishment stockbroker, Morgan & Vanderbilt. Their accounting, taxation and consulting work had been being handled by a big four firm for years, but Vanderbilt had decided that it was time to make a change. Cromwell knew that the fees wouldn’t be large, but that was unimportant, the doors that Morgan & Vanderbilt could open for the firm were invaluable. Better still, Morgan & Vanderbilt had been around for a hundred and fifty years, and their money was old and blue. Crom
well could hardly wait for the next partners meeting when he would rub Lechte’s face in it. Lechte was about to find out that the firm had a new rainmaker.
Cromwell had a small team auditing The Disabled Children’s Fund, the mayor’s wife’s charity and had been staggered to find that annual donations and bequests exceeded one hundred million dollars. It might be an honorary audit, but it involved a significant amount of time. Cromwell wasn’t worried, the prestige and recognition that came with auditing a major charity was pure gold.
Todd hadn’t slept a wink but surprisingly wasn’t tired. He’d been up drinking coffee all night and fretting. He’d known that he was in deep trouble after he’d lost the half mil but was staggered by what he’d witnessed the previous night. It had briefly crossed his mind to phone the police but knew that they’d find nothing in the alley. Besides, he was scared, really scared, and knew what Elliot would do if he found out that he’d contacted the police.
It had been nearly six weeks since the board of ACME Investments Inc. had met, and a formal meeting had been convened and held earlier in the day. The directors had then adjourned for lunch, and now they filed back into the boardroom for the Vulture Inc. meeting. The blank pads, pens, two pitchers of water and a dozen glasses were on the table. Dermott Becker had been noticeably testy at the earlier meeting. He took his seat at the head of the board table and eyeballed O’Brien saying, “We’ll hear from you first, Harry.”
“I have some great news,” O’Brien said. “As you know with the help of our union friends we were sabotaging Webb Transport’s fleet so that we could win the tender to distribute milk in the southern states. Well, it turned out far better than I expected. We bought Webb’s business for two hundred and twenty million. It’s a business that would’ve gone for a billion eighteen months ago.”
O’Brien looked around the room and was surprised to see only blank faces. He didn’t know what Becker had told his fellow directors when he’d convened the meeting.
