by Joe Corso
“I want you to listen carefully and tell me if this is your voice on the phone.” Wilson, the judge, jury, and everyone in the audience listened to the recording of the telephone conversation. It was riveting to hear what was said between the two men.
When the recording ended, Tim asked him, “Wasn’t that you talking to Mr. Jack McCormack? And wasn’t he asking you to give a Mr. Jenkins, a convicted drug dealer, a pardon? And wasn’t that you saying it was too soon, that you’d have to wait until things cooled down before you could pardon him? And wasn’t it you bragging to McCormack that you stole Mr. Dutch Henry’s mine to keep for yourself?”
Wilson jumped up from his seat. “Lies! They’re all lies! Someone is trying to frame me! Someone made this up! It’s not me talking on the phone.”
Jerry Sutphin was brought in to testify that he recorded the phone conversation that took place between the two men. Other experts were brought in to corroborate that the voice on the recording was in fact Holland Wilson’s. When testimony for the day ended, Holland was held without bail and remanded to the court’s prison. Before leaving the courtroom, he asked to speak to Andy Connelly, the Attorney General, and because he was still the governor, the court agreed. When informed of the Governor’s request, the Attorney General agreed to speak to him.
Wilson appointed Connelly to the job. When they met in the holding cell, Wilson was desperate and didn’t mince words. He got right to the point. “I’m in a world of trouble, Andy. You have to help me.”
“I’d love to help you, Holland, but my hands are tied. You dug yourself a deep hole this time but I might be able to convince the court to give you a lighter sentence if you were to help me get Jack McCormack.”
Wilson sat with his face resting in the palm of both his hands, not saying a word for a long moment. He might have been crying and he lifted his head and looked at the DA with red rimmed eyes. “Why not? I don’t see Jack McCormack running here to help me. What do you need from me?” Wilson’s eyes were watery and glistened as if he would begin to cry at any moment. “I can’t spend time in jail, Andy. It would kill me. I’m not a young man. Please, you must help me. I have no one else to turn to.” His eyes looked pleadingly at the man whom he had appointed to the Attorney General’s job, waiting for a sign - any sign - that his friend would help him. Only, Holland Wilson had no friends - not any longer. Whatever friends he had were leaving him like rats leaving a sinking ship. But his friend Andy wouldn’t tell Wilson that. He wanted Wilson to believe that he’d do his best to help him if he turned on Jack McCormack.
In reality, Andy couldn’t do anything to help the Governor. However, Wilson, without realizing it, could help him become the next governor. “Don’t worry, Holland. I’ll do what I can do to help you, but you have to help me. I need to bring Jack McCormack to his knees. It’s out now and everyone knows what kind of man he is. Now I need proof of his crimes so I can put him in prison where he belongs.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
McCormack made a bee line to his hideaway, high in the mountains of Arizona, as soon as he heard news that Governor Holland Wilson had been convicted of misuse of power and of swindling the state of Arizona of millions of dollars. Jack spent a few sleepless nights worrying about his imminent arrest, until he thought of a solution to his problem. He had no idea how young Hardin had survived the explosion, but if he, along with that guard Lee Flowers, were to disappear suddenly, there would be no witnesses left to testify against him. The problem was, he didn’t know where Hardin was hiding. McCormack tried putting himself in Hardin’s place. He came to the conclusion that Hardin was obviously being very careful, and since he was familiar with the desert, he must know of a good place to hide. That much was obvious, because no one knew where to find him.
McCormack decided that he would hire the best detectives money could buy and have them locate Hardin. He read that Lee Flowers had accepted a job as chief of security for the young billionaire John Christo. Well, at least he would be easy to find and eliminate, but first he’d have to find John Hardin, and he had no idea where he could be.
McCormack dug for gold in many countries and he always kept track of men he might have use for in the future. Men who would murder anyone he pointed his finger at, if the price was right. Since Kleinst was no longer here to do the difficult jobs for him, it was necessary to oversee this job himself. At least if he had a hands-on role, he knew the job would get done. The men he had contacted were meeting him at nondescript hotel in Tucson. It was fortunate for him that the Governor had handed him the 210 million dollar check before he was arrested, because the moment he had the check in his hands, he had rushed to the bank, cashed it, and then deposited it. Now that the money was in his account, his attorney advised him that no one could get at it and his bank accounts wouldn’t be frozen until his trial. Jack contacted his friend, the Attorney General. McCormack knew Andy Donnelly had plans on becoming the next governor and Andy would do whatever he could to help Jack McCormack because he could use his money and his support.
John Christo was surprised when his secretary told him that Jack McCormack was holding for him on Line One. “Jack, how are you?”
“You know how I am. I have these god damned trumped up charges leveled against me and I won’t be able to do anything until I straighten this mess out. But that’s not what I called you about. I have the rest of your money and I’d like to complete our deal as soon as possible, so I can start taking gold out of that mine. Right now, gold is about the only thing that would make me look good to my share holders. That’s why I’m kinda in a hurry. You can understand why I’m in a hurry, can’t you?”
It was a good thing McCormack couldn’t see the wide grin on John W’s face. It was like the fox guarding the hen house. He took a deep breath to keep the excitement from showing in his voice. “Sure, Jack. How do you want to handle it?”
“Would it be all right with you if I sent a courier with a bank check and you could give him the release we agreed upon and the map to the mine? Of course, my courier will be an attorney I’ve used in the past. It’s not that I don’t trust you, John, but since I can’t be there, I have to have someone who could read and understand a legal document.”
“A courier’s no problem, Jack. I wish I could offer you more help, but my hands are tied. At least you’ll have the mine. Once the gold is brought out, the news should please your stock holders.”
“Good, I knew you’d understand. My attorney is Neil Kaufman and he’ll be at your office within the hour.”
McCormack was feeling better now that the Lost Four Peaks Gold Mine would soon be his and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, picturing all the gold he’d soon be bringing out of that mine. Now it was time to get rid of a few loose ends. He’d telephoned the two men the previous week and he expected them to walk through his front door any minute. The two men were Eric Shroeder and John Burns, and they were highly recommended by an associate of Jack’s. McCormack’s lucrative money offer convinced them to drop everything and fly to Arizona for this job, to eliminate the competition. McCormack carefully called them from a pay phone in Tucson, where the conversation couldn’t be traced back to him.
Burns had remarked, “We wouldn’t think of flying to the United States while we’re in the middle of an assignment, unless we were paid serious money.”
McCormack smiled. He was in his element, negotiating with men like these. “How about whatever your usual fee is, I’ll double it, if you drop everything and can be here by tomorrow. I’ll even cover your expenses here and back. Well? Can I expect to see you tomorrow or do I call someone else?”
The two men looked at each other, and then nodded, silently agreeing to accept the deal and fly to America for this job. “We’ll get our gear together and take the first flight out.”
McCormack had given them his name as “Mr. Peaks,” after the mine he just bought, then his phone number and his address in that order.
“We’ll need certain equipment af
ter we arrive. Can you handle that for us?”
“Sure, mining equipment is easy to get. I know exactly what tools you need and you can rely on me to have them here for you when we meet.”
“What exactly do you want us to do, Mr. Peaks?”
McCormack studied the two men. He sat back in chair and said smugly, “Why, I want you to kill a few men for me. That’s the reason I asked you to fly here.”
The two men looked at each other and an unspoken message passed between them. They both stood and without saying a word, walked to either side of the desk, searching for a listening device. Satisfied that there was none hidden in the desk, they slowly examined the rest of the room. McCormack was impressed with the professionalism of the two operatives. They knew how to look for bugs and they knew exactly where to look. They themselves had bugged offices, hotel rooms, and private homes many times in the past. When they were satisfied the room was clean, they sat back down.
“Very impressive, gentlemen. It looks like I hired the right men for this job.”
Burns said, “Not so fast. We haven’t said we’d accept the job yet. We still have the little matter of our fee to discuss, which will be much more than what you offered us. Killing people wasn’t part of the deal.”
McCormack knew that once these men heard there would be killings, their price would go up. He had expected no less and he was prepared for it. Double the salary was just to get them here. He was willing to pay much more to keep from going to jail. McCormack broke the ice and asked them. “What is your usual price?”
This time Schroeder spoke. “We usually get $50,000.00 each for a job but for a killing we each get an extra $100,000.00 for each person we kill. But we draw the line with women and children. We won’t kill them.”
McCormack knew that as well, so he reassured them, “There are no women or children involved. Just three men. Two of the men are rather close, but the third is in a prison in Germany.”
“Germany?” Burns said, a little louder than he meant to. The price just went way the hell up. “Are you crazy? You expect us to kill a guy in a German prison?”
“Calm down, until you see what I have for you.” McCormack opened a drawer and pulled out some photos. Most of them were telephoto shots, but two were aerial pictures. “This is Stadelheim Prison, in Munich’s Giesing district. It’s one of the largest prisons in Germany. The man that you’re going to eliminate is a guest at this prison. I realize that you can’t get in the prison to do the job, and I wouldn’t expect you to even if you could. The cells the prisoners stay in are small, cramped rooms with hardly any room to stand, let alone walk. The prisoners are let out at 1 p.m. and are allowed one hour to stretch their legs and exercise in the prison yard. A high wall with electrified razor wire surrounds the prison. You are not going to concern yourselves with any of that. There are hills surrounding the prison and if a sniper with a high powered rifle and his spotter were to position themselves properly, they would have a clear shot at the target. My corporation has offices all over the globe, so it will be no problem securing the proper sniper rifle for you to use. I suggest that once you find your firing position in the hills surrounding the prison, you dig a hole a little ways from where your position will be. Dig the hole prior to the killing, then on the way out of the hills you’ll drop the gun in the hole and quickly bury it, then cover it with leaves. Use gloves so there’ll be no paraffin residue on your hands, and bury the gloves with the gun. Then get out of Germany. Once you accomplish that, the rest will be easy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The courier studied the claim filed by John Christo, and then the document, which gave McCormack all rights and title to the mine. Satisfied the documents were legal and the mine was now McCormack’s, the courier handed John the certified check. John waited until the courier left, then he motioned to his secretary, who took the check and electronically deposited it into his bank account. The moment the check cleared, John W called for a meeting, which included Lee Flowers, Angelo Muscano, Jason Sweeney, Jerry Sutphin, and three of Sweeney’s best men, including Dan Harlbager.
When they were all seated in his office, waiting expectantly for what he had to say, John W looked at each man. “Glad you men are here. I asked you men to come to this meeting because I have a strong feeling someone will be paying us a visit soon. Jack McCormack can’t afford to have witnesses showing up at his trial. Jerry, did you find out where he’s hiding?”
“Yes, as soon as he smelled trouble, he left his headquarters and headed to his place in the mountains, which very few people know about. He would have been safe if he would have stayed there, but he only stayed there a few days and then he moved to another location. I didn’t know where, and I didn’t know why. I tried to think of where he would go. I figured he’s still the president of a very large company, so it made sense to put a tap on his phone lines at his corporate headquarters and hope that he called. I figured sooner or later he’d show up at his office but when that didn’t happen, I got a little nervous. I kept monitoring the phone calls coming in and out of the building, but none of them was suspicious. Then I got lucky, because one of one of the phone calls was from Tucson and it was him.
“I traced the number to a hotel and since nothing much was happening at his headquarters, I decided to drive to Tucson and visit that hotel. My luck held, because as soon as I arrived at the hotel, I spotted McCormack having breakfast in the dining room. Now that I found where he was staying, it wasn’t hard to set up a recorder and tap the line in his room. John, you were absolutely right. He’s worried about witnesses showing up at his trial because with their testimony, he’d be sent to prison and he can’t allow that to happen. Give me a second to set up the recorder, and you’ll hear the conversations for yourself.” Sutphin played the recording and paused it every so often to explain the veiled references to weapons, names, and places. “McCormack instructed the two hitters who arrived from South Africa to meet him at his hotel. It made sense that since he was making all of those phone calls from the hotel, then it was safe to assume that he would remain in the hotel for the meeting. I didn’t think he’d hold the meeting in his room, which was small and uncomfortable. I thought the dining room would be the likely place he’d discuss business. He referenced a meeting in the dining room in one phone call, and when I heard that, I made sure I got there first. I entered the dining room and just looked at it for a moment. It’s a very large room and I tried to guess which table he’d choose for a private meeting. I said to myself, where would I want to sit if I didn’t want anyone to hear what I was saying? I scanned the room and then I noticed a private table in a little alcove in the rear of the room. That would be the table I would pick. It was perfect for them because it afforded them the privacy they needed. It was also perfect for me, because it was right by the window with part of the table facing the street.
“If they sat at this table, I could either set up a parabolic mike outside and bounce it off the window to record what they were saying, or I could sit in the dining room and do it from there. Outside was problematic when I thought about it, because my mic would be in the open where people could see it, so I chose inside instead. I was hoping my assumption of him choosing this table was correct. If he picked another table, it would have been harder for me to record their conversation, but it wouldn’t have been impossible. I watched from a position by the door and I was right. McCormack led his two mercs to the table I thought he would choose. They had never seen me before, so once they were seated I carried my flight bag containing my electronic gear and sat at a table far enough away from them where they wouldn’t be suspicious, but close enough to point a powerful miniature directional mic designed to look like a cell phone at them. Now listen to what he discussed with them.”
Sutphin pushed a button on his recorder. When the conversation started, everyone in the room sat, transfixed at what was being discussed.
“Shee-it,” Lee said. “This guy’s gonna go after Rutgar Kleinst while he’s
in prison, and kill him.”
