White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller

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White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller Page 18

by Peter Ralph


  “Please refrain from interrupting me again,” Lechte said, staring angrily at Cromwell. “I was about to say that that provision of the partnership deed has not been exercised in more than one hundred years. I’m asking you not to exercise it now. It’s time for unity, and no good can come from dividing the firm. Please, I implore you, vote this motion down.”

  Both men had lobbied furiously in the weeks leading up to the meeting, and Lechte knew that the vote was going to be very close. The last thing he wanted to do was to exercise his own vote to save himself.

  “Enough, enough,” Cromwell said. “By a show of hands, all those in favor of the motion.”

  Lechte did a quick count. There were twenty-five in favor. If one of the remaining partners abstained from voting, he was out.

  “All those against,” Cromwell said.

  Half a dozen hands went up immediately, and others slowly followed until the count was eleven.

  “The motion is carry−”

  “Not so fast, Phillip. I’m torn by the harm Todd Hansen has caused and my loyalty to Doug. I came to this meeting hoping I wouldn’t have to vote,” Sandra Bishop said, “but now I have no choice. I cannot in all conscience support the motion.”

  “It makes no difference,” Cromwell said. “There’s still a two-thirds majority in favor.”

  “No, there’s not,” Lechte said, raising his hand.

  Cromwell was purple with rage. “You-you would use your vote to save yourself when there are twenty-five partners sitting in this room who don’t want you. Have you no pride? Resign and salvage what little honor you have left.”

  “I’m staying, Phillip,” Lechte said, standing and picking up his papers.

  Todd’s first morning in Castlebrough saw him lining up for breakfast in the mess hall with Lombardi directly behind him and an associate of Lombardi in front of him. Breakfast was oatmeal porridge, milk, two slices of bread, margarine, jam and orange juice. Two thousand inmates could be seated at ten-stool built-in tables, and there were two breakfast shifts. Mess halls are the most dangerous places in prisons and heavily armed prison guards patrolled the surrounding gantry walkways. The noise was deafening, and Todd could hardly hear himself think. Lombardi directed him to the middle of a table at the rear of the room and took the stool next to him.

  “Todd,” Lombardi said, “look around the table. You can trust these men. They’ll be looking after you.”

  As Todd glanced at the swarthy group, some nodded or raised their hands while others ignored him. One thing struck Todd. They nearly all carried scars on their faces and arms.

  “What table is Mr. Arturo at?” Todd asked.

  There were a few sideways glances before Lombardi said, “Mr. Arturo eats in his cell. Occasionally he comes down here, but only when he wants to.”

  When they got back to their cell, Todd asked, “What are you in here for?”

  “Manslaughter,” Lombardi replied, “I was unlucky. I was persuading a member of another gang to get out of our territory with a baseball bat. I kneecapped him, and the jamook flatlined in the hospital. Seems he had a weak heart. How fucking unlucky can a guy get?”

  “The guys you’ve got looking after me are a tough-looking bunch. The face of that guy sitting at the end of the table was a complete mess.”

  “Look at me,” Lombardi said. “Do you see any scars?”

  “No,” Todd replied.

  “Enzo let his guard down, and the stupid prick was glassed. There’s nothing tough about scars, Todd. You want to be wary of the guys who caused them, not the ones bearing them. We’ve got three hours in the yard at nine o’clock. Stay near me.”

  “Don’t they make us work?”

  “There’s a machine shop, laundry, library, and hospital. Maybe work for three hundred. Nah, we don’t work.”

  Two days later Todd was in the communal shower with about fifty inmates. Lombardi was next to him. Two guards were on a gantry overlooking the showers. Another three guards were just inside the entrance. Todd heard a scream come from the showers furthest away from the entrance and saw a young, slim Hispanic man fighting to get away from three white guys. The guards at the entrance turned their backs and the ones on the gantry looked straight ahead. “Why isn’t anyone helping him? Why aren’t the guards stopping them?” Todd gasped.

  One of the white guys pushed the Hispanic kid into the wall face first while the others tried to force his legs open. The biggest of the white guys was trying to shove his erect cock up the young man’s ass. He was fighting and squirming when one of the others punched him in the head with all his force. The young man slumped forward unconscious, and the big white guy drove his penis deep into him.

  “Fucking queers,” Lombardi said. “They must’ve paid the guards to set the kid up. There’s nothing you can’t buy or get in here.”

  “The guards set it up?” Todd asked, open-mouthed.

  “Yeah, let’s get outta here. They’re gonna gang bang the poor bastard.”

  “The three of them?”

  “If he’s real lucky it’ll only be three. Come on, dry yourself off. It makes me sick to watch this shit. Fucking animals.”

  The Hispanic kid started to come around and screamed in agony as strong hands pinned him to the wall. There were now five sickos lined up waiting their turn.

  “Why don’t you stop them?” Todd asked.

  “It’s not my fight. Let’s go.”

  Three of the guards remained while the other two marched the rest of the prisoners back to their cells.

  Todd slumped on his bunk with his head in his hands and sobbed. Castlebrough had to be the worst place on the planet. “Tha-that could-could’ve be-been me,” he managed to blurt out.

  “No, it couldn’t,” Lombardi said. “I would’ve killed them before they got to you.”

  “How-how? You-you didn’t have any weapons.”

  “I don’t need weapons, but that’s not the point. There’s no way those guards would cross Mr. Arturo. After he got locked up, a deputy warden and two guards tried to bring him down a notch. They roughed him up so badly, they had to rush him to the prison hospital. In the following week, the deputy warden’s wife and young child disappeared and haven’t been seen since. One of the guards was run down in a hit and run, and the other one got bashed to within an inch of his life. The deputy warden supposedly took his own life with a bullet to the head. Mr. Arturo and the mob sent the prison administration a message. Like I told you, nothing happens in here unless he says it’s okay. The guards know he’s looking after you, and they’re not stupid.”

  “But if it wasn’t for him I’d be like that Hispanic boy?”

  “Yeah, you would, and there’s still stupid bastards who might try for a piece of you. I wish they would.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There’ll only ever be one try.” Lombardi smirked.

  The cell door opened, and a guard looked at Lombardi and said, “Tony, Mr. Arturo wants to see the kid.”

  Chapter 34

  Todd was shocked. The man standing in front of him was fiftyish, no more than 5’ 6” and 140 pounds. How can this guy be so feared? How come he’s the mob boss? The cell was warm, and a fifty-inch television with the sound muted was showing the Patriots versus Broncos. There was a chessboard set up on a table, a chair on either side of it.

  “I understand you play chess,” Arturo said.

  “Yes, I do, Mr. Arturo.”

  “Are you a good player?”

  “I was the champion of my college,” Todd replied, carefully examining the small man. He had oily, black, thinning hair, sunken eyes, and a pockmarked face. How did he ever get to be so powerful?

  “Let’s play then,” Arturo said through tightly pursed lips.

  Todd was surprised by Arturo’s skill and after three hours and four games of nearly silent chess the score was two games all. Todd could have won all four games but was cognizant of Lombardi’s warning.

  “You’re a good player,�
� Arturo said. “I hadn’t lost a game for five years up until today. I’ve enjoyed your challenge, but we only have time for one more game.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Arturo. You too are a skilled player.”

  “Frank, call me Frank. We’re going to have many sessions like this while you’re my guest. If there is anything you want, anything, just tell Tony, and I’ll make sure you have it. He mentioned that you’re still worried about being attacked. Don’t be! I’ll have the man or men who try to harm you permanently looked after. Now, come on, let’s see who Castlebrough’s chess champion is.”

  Todd was relieved that Arturo seemed to like him, but his little speech, delivered without emotion or passion, had made Todd uncomfortable. Arturo had spoken about killing with the same dispassion that normal people talked about going out to lunch. Fifty minutes later Todd looked up and said, “Check.” He had left one move for Arturo and knew that he was smart enough not to miss it.

  Arturo stared at the board for what seemed like an eternity before he deftly moved his king and trapped Todd in the corner with a rook holding check and a knight securing mate.”

  “Good move. Well played,” Todd said as he stood up.

  “We must play again. Soon,” Arturo said, his face still as impassive as it had been when they first met. “Thank you, Todd.”

  After four weeks of imprisonment, Todd had experienced no trouble in the showers or the yard. The prison population knew that he was being protected by the mob, and any attempt to harm him would result in fearful retribution. When the attack occurred, it was spontaneous in the mess hall. Todd was in line and had just been served his porridge and bread when he bumped into the guy who had led the rape of the Hispanic kid. The big mutt’s tray crashed to the floor. Porridge and orange juice spilled all over the floor.

  “You fucking idiot,” he shouted and charged at Todd.

  The big guy had moved no more than a yard when he seemed to freeze in slow motion, a blue plastic shank hanging out of his ear. It erupted in a bloody volcano, and he crashed to the ground. Whistles blew, and guards came from everywhere as prisoners scattered to their tables.

  “Come on,” Lombardi said, as he grabbed Todd’s elbow and propelled him toward the table.

  “You-you did-didn’t have to do that.”

  “Do what? I didn't do anything,” Lombardi said, taking a mouthful of bread spread with margarine and jam. “Eat up. Your porridge is getting cold.”

  “Is he… is he dead?”

  “I fucking hope so.” Lombardi smirked. “I’ve been waiting for this day. They know you’re protected. Now they know what’s gonna happen to ‘em if they try and hurt you. Don’t be upset, kid. I just guaranteed your safety and mine. If I let anything happen to Mr. Arturo’s favorite inmate, I’d be dead. Fuck, I’ve known him for fifteen years, and I still don’t get to call him Frank.”

  The guards were questioning prisoners at the tables closest to where the big guy was lying. Todd saw one of the guards take a towel and place it over his face. There was a lot of head shaking, and it was obvious the guards weren’t getting very far.

  “What’ll you do if they find out it was you?”

  Lombardi laughed. “They won’t. You’re the only one who saw anything, and you’re not even sure what you saw.”

  Todd thought about it. Lombardi was right. The speed with which he had moved had been blinding, and Todd had seen nothing in his hand. It was only when the big guy had frozen that Todd had seen the shank protruding from his ear.

  “Won’t there be an investigation?”

  “For a turd like him?” Lombardi said, and then paused. “Yeah, maybe. It won’t go for long. Perhaps two days. The administration’s not too worried about pricks like that. Just make sure you keep your mouth closed and don’t breathe a word about what you saw.”

  “What I saw? I didn’t see anything.”

  Lombardi grinned. “You’re coming along nicely, kid. I’ll make an associate out of you yet.”

  The grounds put forward by Todd’s lawyers on appeal were hardly convincing. They did not seek to exonerate him or introduce new evidence but argued that CFDs over U.S. stocks traded in international markets did not come under the jurisdiction of the U.S. security laws. They claimed the judge had misinterpreted the law at the first trial and that this was grounds for a new trial. It was a spurious argument that the assistant district attorney opposed. Strangely, she did not register any disapproval or disappointment when the judge ruled in Todd’s favor.

  The morning of his release Todd had a visitor claiming to be one of his lawyers.

  “You’re looking surprisingly well, Todd,” Aaron Lord said.

  “Yeah, no thanks to you.”

  “I told you, we never anticipated the judge putting you in here. Anyhow, that’s water under the bridge. If you don’t want to do another eight years, you know what you have to do.”

  “Yeah, and in case I forgot you came to remind me.”

  “You’d do well to get rid of the chip off your shoulder. You got yourself into this mess. No one else is to blame. Maybe you ought to think about that.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “You’ll be pleased to know that we located a suntanned Giovani alive and well in Hawaii,” Lord said.

  “So he did trick me and was in with them. I never had to worry about my parents being killed. I feel like such a fool. Jack Elliot played me for a chump.”

  “Yeah, it’s true Elliot played you for a sucker, but you were right to be concerned.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “Giovani was working for a firm of stockbrokers that handled initial public offerings for small companies and raised seed capital for start-ups. He got involved with Elliot and provided him with some highly confidential information. Elliot paid him a million for the info and invested heavily in the biotech companies. They were all failures, and Elliot lost millions.”

  “Shit. What did he do?”

  “Needless to say he wasn’t very happy but Giovani had blown his million in the same biotech companies, so Elliot knew he’d hadn’t been conned. He read the riot act to Giovani and tried to get the million back to no avail. After that, they had no contact for several months.”

  “Get to the point,” Todd said.

  “Settle down. It gets interesting. Elliot contacted Giovani and told him that if he didn’t get out of New York, he was dead. It seems that one of Elliot’s bosses is particularly violent and doesn’t like losing millions. That’s when Elliot came up with the idea of apparently killing Giovani in front of you. He could then tell this violent individual that Giovani was dead and that you, having witnessed his murder, were scared shitless. Worked well, didn’t it? Giovani was on a plane to Hawaii the following day, and you agreed to do what Elliot wanted.”

  “Who are Elliot’s bosses?”

  “We still don’t know,” Lord replied

  “Are you going to charge Giovani? Have you brought him back to the mainland?”

  “He’s small fry and doesn’t know much. He’s safe where he is but if we charge Elliot, we’ll bring him back as a witness. Our office in Hawaii grilled him and, like you, he has no idea who’s pulling Elliot’s strings. They’re the crooks we want to get our hands on, and you’re going to help us do it.”

  “What an idiot I was.”

  “Don’t beat up on yourself. You were right to be worried about your parents. Giovani said that he sensed even Elliot was scared. His fear infected Giovani, and he couldn’t get on a plane fast enough.” Lord smiled grimly.

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Let’s forget about Giovani and talk about you. We’ve arranged for you to stay at the New York Hostel in Upper West Side for three nights after you get out. Then you’re moving into a room above a delicatessen in Chinatown,” Lord said sliding five hundred dollars and a piece of paper across the table. “Memorize the address. It’s cheap and nasty. Rent’s payable weekly, and it’s all you can afford. There’ll be a
n ad in The New York Times in two days. It’s being held for you.”

  “How am I gonna call?”

  “You’ll get your cell phone back when you’re released. It’s paid for thirty days. You’ll have to start looking for a job in a hurry. You won’t get one, but you have to try. When you’ve been rejected everywhere, you’ll walk past Sammy’s Fine Cuisine on Canal Street, and there’ll be a sign in the window looking for waiters. You’ll apply and get an immediate start. Welcome back to the workforce.” Lord grinned.

  “Thanks.” Todd sneered. “How am I gonna contact you?”

  “Vanessa Hodge has agreed to help. She made it clear at your trial that she supported you and bore no grudges. It’s natural that you’d stay friends with her. It’s perfect.”

  “Fuck! Did you tell her how dangerous it’ll be? They’ll be watching her like a hawk. How’s she gonna contact you? I don’t like it. I don’t like it one little bit. Who else knows of her involvement?”

  “She knows the risks. You may not believe this, but she wants to help you. Your old boss knows what’s happening and no one else. Don’t worry, we’re going to be looking after her.”

  “Yeah, just like you were gonna look after me in prison.” Todd sneered.

  “You know what you have to do, Todd. We didn’t put you in this position. You should be grateful that we’re giving you a way out.”

  “Grateful? Jesus! I could end up dead. Yeah, I’m real grateful all right.”

  Lord shook his head as he got to his feet. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  After four months, three days and seventeen hours, Todd finished packing his meager belongings and prepared to leave Castlebrough. He was one of the very few young inmates who would leave in the same condition that he’d been in when imprisoned.

  He thanked Tony Lombardi, but he’d never really got a handle on him. Lombardi smiled with his mouth, but his eyes were always cold, and Todd knew he was a cold-blooded killer.

 

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