Alumni Association

by Michael Rudolph

  As Beth read the threatening letter, she felt her emotions running rampant. Her first reaction was a nervous laugh at the strange formality of the letter’s language. When she read it a second time, she felt fear envelop her with worry about Max’s safety.

  Her final reaction, however, was the one that stayed with her the longest, and it was cold anger. Cold anger as she read it one more time and colder anger as she vowed to identify the anonymous sender and make him regret threatening her family. She thought briefly about sending copies to Max and Sean before she left the office for the day, but then decided to sit on it until she saw Sean the next morning.

  Chapter 28

  Beth put a photocopy of the Squad Leader’s threat in her left jacket pocket to give Sean and put her new 9 mm Glock in the right. They had arranged to meet at 6:30 A.M. in front of the East Seventy-ninth Street entrance to Central Park. When she arrived, the sky was just beginning to reflect the early autumn light so she started her warm-up exercises. Sean arrived a few minutes later and joined her. The park was filling up with joggers, bikers, and various exercisers, all avoiding benches preempted by the sleeping homeless.

  The relationship between Beth and Sean had expanded to include sleepover weekends and early morning jogs on weekdays around Central Park. Beth was faster and didn’t hesitate to sprint ahead of Sean. Her competitive nature granted no exceptions. She took no prisoners.

  As they were doing their stretching exercises, Beth told Sean about the email she had sent to BMI alumni and gave him a copy of the Squad Leader’s response.

  “Got any idea who he is?” Sean asked as he read the letter.

  “Not really. I just know the Tunnel Rats were postgraduate students who played football on scholarship at BMI during the late seventies and eighties before moving up to Division One universities.”

  “Well, that must include a fairly large group of fairly strong and fairly large athletes.”

  “You think? Can you trace the service provider on the email so I can get some idea of who wrote it before I answer it?”

  “No problem. I’ll give it to someone when I get to the office.”

  “Thanks. Ready to run?”

  “Need to stretch a little more. I’m going to beat your ass today.”

  “Not on your best day.”

  “I just like to watch you jiggle when you jog.”

  “How alliterative.” She laughed.

  “Regular route today?” he asked.

  “No, let’s head west across the park and turn uptown at Eighty-first Street and Central Park West.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I want to try for three laps around the Reservoir before heading back down south to East Seventy-ninth.”

  “Okay, then we can head over to Starbucks for breakfast.”

  * * *

  —

  Daytime jogging in the crowded park normally eased their New York City level of vigilance, so Beth and Sean were unaware that they were being watched by a miscreant known as El Cuchillo de Oro. His street name reflected the surplus bayonet that was his weapon of choice and the blond streak that divided his otherwise jet black hair. Gold Knife was waiting at the park entrance and identified Beth as his victim when she first entered the park by herself. He took a photo of her with his cellphone and texted it to his partner waiting on the west side.

  When Sean arrived, their plans for the assault on Beth changed. Taking on a man of Sean’s size and build definitely wasn’t included in the job. They would wait until Beth was alone again.

  * * *

  —

  After Beth and Sean finished with their stretching exercises, they started off west across the park, followed by El Cuchillo. When they turned uptown at Eighty-first and CPW, El Cuchillo was joined by his partner, and together they continued to follow Beth and Sean. There were times when Beth might have felt their presence if she had been jogging alone, but Sean’s company dulled those receptors.

  When Beth and Sean left the park and walked over to Starbucks, El Cuchillo and his partner waited across the street and kept busy on their cellphones until they came out. Sean went right down into the subway, while Beth started to walk back to her apartment, container of coffee in one hand, cellphone in the other, and the two very bad men still following behind.

  From force of cautious habit, Beth stayed on the curb side of a busy Madison Avenue as she walked downtown. When she turned left onto a very quiet, tree-lined East Seventy-third Street, El Cuchillo and company began to close up their distance. They had a job to do.

  Beth sensed her space being invaded, reflexively pocketed her cellphone, and threw her coffee container into a convenient dumpster. She immediately took a few steps forward to gain some space and tried to get the handgun out, but when the zipper on her jacket pocket jammed, she spun around into the defensive mode practiced in karate class.

  As El Cuchillo came at her with a knife and slashed away, Beth parried with her left hand and jammed her right thumb deep into his eye, causing him to drop the weapon. At the same time, she kneed him in the groin with all the force that she could muster. El Cuchillo collapsed, groaning in pain on the sidewalk while his companion ran away.

  An alert doorman dialed 911 and came out of his building lobby armed with a baseball bat. As El Cuchillo struggled to get up, the doorman cracked him across both shins, and Beth put him down for good with a well-directed kick to his kidneys. When the police arrived, they arrested him and searched for his accomplice, but he was long gone.

  * * *

  —

  Beth watched as the officers placed her assailant into a patrol car for transport over to the Nineteenth Precinct on East Sixty-seventh Street. Only then did she suddenly feel intense pain in her left arm radiating from her elbow all the way up to her shoulder. She looked at her jacket and noticed the torn, bloody sleeve covering what had to be a large knife wound. One of the cops radioed for an ambulance while the doorman helped her over to a chair in the lobby of his building.

  Still pumped on adrenaline, she insisted on giving a statement to the police while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. After the EMTs came and bandaged her wound, she called Max and Sean from the ambulance on the ride over to Lenox Hill Hospital on East Seventy-seventh Street.

  Beth was able to control the pain during the ambulance ride by focusing her mind on the possibility that the attack was more than just an attempted robbery by a couple of junkies. Too much about it seemed choreographed. The second guy could’ve easily grabbed her cellphone or her wallet while she was busy fighting for her life with the first guy.

  Beth tried hard to keep a brave face on when the ambulance pulled into the hospital and she saw a worried Sean waiting anxiously by the outside entrance to Emergency. He flashed his FBI creds to the EMTs as they helped her from the ambulance into a wheelchair and then reached out to hold her free hand as she extended it to him.

  “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked.

  “Pretty shitty, as a matter of fact,” she replied, “and I must look even worse.”

  “You could never look bad, my love.”

  “Thanks. I love you, too.”

  “The cops told me the other guy will be walking on crutches and peeing through a catheter for a long time to come.”

  “I saw the cops had to lift him into their patrol car.”

  “Do you still have your piece on you?”

  “Yeah, the cops checked my concealed-carry permit.”

  “Better let me have it before you go through the metal detector in Emergency.”

  “Okay, it’s in my pocket. Naturally the zipper jammed when I needed it most, but it seems okay now.” She took it out and handed it to him.

  * * *

  —

  Sean walked alongside Beth, still holding her hand, while she was wheeled into Emergency and helped up onto a bed by a nurse, who
checked her vital signs, cut off her bloody jacket, and gave her a gown. Before leaving, the nurse told them a doctor would be in very soon. Her worried mother and stepfather arrived while she was still waiting for the doctor, and everyone hugged.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Beth quickly tried to assure her with a forced smile for emphasis.

  A very take-charge Andi ordered Sean and Max to leave so she could take a look at the wound. Neither of the men dared to question her authority.

  “Mom, the doctor will be here in a minute. Wait for him.”

  “I saw much worse during two tours in Iraq, darling. Let me take a look.”

  “Yes, Mom,” was her obedient reply.

  Andi was busy examining the wound when the doctor came into the room. “Excuse me, I’m Doctor Cohan,” he said to Andi. “Are you a nurse or a relative?”

  “I’m her mother, Doctor, but I’m also a retired navy nurse.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you for your service, but I’d like to examine the patient now. Would you please step out for a minute?”

  “Of course, Doctor.” Andi gave Beth a kiss on the forehead and left to join Max and Sean waiting outside in the hallway.

  After the doctor finished, he gave Beth several shots to numb the pain, and began cleaning and stitching up the wound. He told her that he was keeping her in the hospital overnight to make certain that the risk of infection and tetanus had been contained.

  As soon as the doctor left the room, Sean and her parents came back in. Beth began to complain to the universe about the need to stay in the hospital overnight. She insisted that her assault was not a random act so she wanted to go over to the Nineteenth Precinct to question El Cuchillo. Her protest continued until Andi told her to shut up, and Sean threatened to slap cuffs on her.

  Nevertheless, as soon as he left the hospital, Sean went right to the police station and shared Beth’s concern with the arresting officer. As a result, the case was assigned to a detective, and El Cuchillo’s interrogation began. When Sean asked to participate in the questioning on behalf of the FBI, a minor turf war broke out. Sean was finally allowed to sit in but could not ask questions.

  Beth was discharged the following morning with twenty-seven stitches and a drain in her arm, a sling, a tetanus shot, and a firm resolve to deal with the Squad Leader of the Tunnel Rats.

  As the nurse rolled her out of the elevator in the required wheelchair, Beth smiled and waved with her good arm to Max and her mother waiting for her at the discharge desk. When they arrived by cab at Beth’s apartment, Max continued on to the office. Andi insisted on staying with Beth until the drain was removed in two days. As Max drove off, Beth and her mother exchanged a look of cold determination inherited from their Hungarian ancestors.

  Chapter 29

  The BMI zoning appeal was scheduled to be heard at 2:30 P.M. The stab wound in her left arm had healed enough that Beth decided to drive herself down. When Judge Tripp Masters invited her to have lunch first at his country club, Beth left the city early and met him there. They spent the time discussing strategy for her oral argument, flavored with helpful comments from Tripp about the Honorable Norma Mooring, the judge designated to hear the BMI appeal.

  When court convened at 2:30, the case was called. Judge Mooring greeted Tripp warmly when he stood up to introduce Beth. When Zeke Shadenheim introduced himself as Gartenberg’s attorney, the greeting from Judge Mooring was polite but formal.

  Throughout her oral argument, Beth stressed the facts and the legal precedents supporting her contention that the decision of the Bordentown Planning and Zoning Commission should be reversed and that the court should order the tunnels preserved as a condition of any subdivision plan. She argued that historic districts are established to preserve genuine classic structures which, in this particular district, included the tunnels underneath.

  When Judge Mooring asked Beth about the interest of the structures to the BMI Alumni Association, she replied by naming some of BMI’s distinguished graduates, including Judge Masters sitting next to her, and the credit they gave BMI for their successful lives. She finished her presentation with a detailed history of the tunnels, emphasizing their significance to Bonaparte and to the pre–Civil War Underground Railroad.

  Zeke Shadenheim took the opposite position, arguing that the decision of the commission was reasonable and justified, and that it should be allowed to stand. He stressed his position by constantly referring to the tunnels as “common ordinary sewer drains.”

  In the final analysis, Judge Mooring asked questions that reflected her knowledge of Bordentown’s historical districts. She thanked counsel for both sides for their thoughtful presentations, promised to give the matter serious consideration, and said she would arrive at a prompt decision.

  In her final remarks, Judge Mooring asked if either side wished to make any motions before she closed the hearing. It was an unusual question for an appellate court hearing, and Beth jumped on the opportunity. She glanced quickly at Tripp and immediately made a motion for a preliminary injunction to prevent destruction of the tunnels until a final decision on the appeal was handed down.

  Her spontaneous application resulted in an unexpected victory. Judge Mooring granted Beth’s motion from the bench and overruled a very angry objection from Shadenheim. She then dictated the preliminary injunction order right onto the digital record and directed her law clerk to print it up for her immediate signature.

  When court adjourned, Beth and Tripp exchanged warm goodbyes while still in the courtroom and gave an unhappy Zeke Shadenheim the courtesy of a handshake and a head start out to the parking lot. As each got into their cars, the texting began:

  From Beth to Members of the BMI Alumni Association: Our appeal was argued today and the court will issue its decision in due course. I am pleased to advise that the court granted our motion for a preliminary injunction protecting the tunnels pending the outcome of our appeal. This is a positive indication. Feel free to call with any questions. Regards, Elisabeth Swahn.

  From Tripp Masters: Max, Beth was right on the mark today. Excellent oral argument. You can be very proud. Regards, Tripp.

  From Beth: Max, the argument went well. The judge reserved decision as expected, but do you believe she granted my motion for a preliminary injunction protecting the tunnels! We have a winner here. Love, Beth.

  From Max: Beth, Tripp texted me before you did. Congratulations!

  From Beth: Sean, I must tell you with all due modesty that I really kicked some ass in court today. More at dinner. Xxoo

  From Sean: Beth, looking forward to every single detail. Call when you get close to the city and I’ll make reservations.

  * * *

  —

  Zeke Shadenheim sat in his car and pondered whether to text the bad news to Gartenberg or call him. He knew that Gartenberg would be angry beyond belief, so it was an easy decision to make. He turned on his cell and started typing:

  Herb, the court heard the Alumni Association appeal today and reserved decision. As I told you might happen, the court granted a preliminary injunction (over my objection, naturally). The tunnels cannot be touched until the appeal is decided. Please advise the Pendayans. Regards, Zeke.

  All in all, it was not a happy day for the Gartenberg crew. It didn’t take long for Zeke’s text to complete its electronic circumference of the globe.

  From Herb to the Pendayan family: The court has enjoined us from touching the tunnels while the appeal is pending. Be sure to tell Benetez. Herb.

  From Carlos Pendayan to Luis Benetez: Attached is notice from Herb. Regards, Carlos Pendayan.

  From Luis Benetez to Nikko Benetez: Papa, Gartenberg says that the Court is protecting the tunnels under BMI. Tunnels need to be sanitized muy rápido.

  From Nikko Benetez: Luis, either buy the Old Main property from Herb Gartenberg or have the tunnels filled in immediately.
Warn BMI attorney of trespassing consequences. Papa.

  From Luis Benetez: Herb, I am flying up tomorrow. Urgent. Please meet me at Newark Airport (AA2035) at Noon so we can drive to BMI.

  From Luis Benetez: Elias, I am flying up tomorrow. Meet me at regular place for dinner.

  Chapter 30

  Beth’s competitive spirit was fueled by the win. Judges weren’t in the habit of issuing preliminary injunctions unless already convinced that their ultimate decision was likely to be in favor of the applicant. She was confident that the preliminary injunction from Judge Mooring signaled the likelihood of a final victory on the merits for the BMI Alumni Association.

  Gartenberg would not be allowed to destroy the tunnels under the Old Main. With a restriction like that, his ability to develop the ten-acre property would be severely limited. If he ever wanted the town’s permission to build a major subdivision on the 340-acre campus, his best bet would be to dedicate the ten-acre Old Main parcel as a park in perpetuity.

  The preliminary injunction was cause for celebration in the Alumni Association except for the few alumni actually involved with the subdivision. Although their motivations were different, they all needed the tunnels to be collapsed and filled in.

  * * *

  —

  The following day, a large bulldozer appeared on the Old Main property and started to knock down the charred skeleton of the Bonaparte mansion. Whenever the debris piled up, the operator pushed it over to one of the tunnel entrances. Some residents of the town of Bordentown passed by and stopped to watch for a moment just like at any other construction site. Many were too young to remember that the Bonaparte mansion was always called the Old Main by the cadets at BMI. They simply assumed that construction of the subdivision must have started, and paid no further attention.