Burke's Gamble

by William F. Brown

“Maybe that was why he was pressing so hard to get the money Vinnie owed them,” Ace said. “At the time, I figured it was just chump change for a big operation like that.”

  “Nothing’s chump change for any of them anymore,” Bonafacio corrected him. “Donatello enjoys a lavish lifestyle, flying back and forth to the city in his new helicopter. His new Park Avenue condo has already been featured in a half-dozen architectural magazines. The one on the top of the Bimini Bay isn’t too shabby, either. It has over 3,000 square feet and takes up half the rooftop of that six-story tower, along with an outdoor pool, gardens, and a helipad, plus he has a two-million-dollar sailboat in the marina. The New York families don’t like it when a guy flaunts it and draws attention to himself like that. He’s been getting away with it, but if he ever falls behind... well, the bigger they think they are…”

  “So, those casinos aren’t really his?” Chester asked.

  “Oh, no. Boardwalk Investments owns them. It was founded by his grandfather. Donatello is Chairman of the Board and CEO, but the New York mob families are the real owners. Hey, that’s about all I got for the moment. I’ve got a meeting I’ve got to run to, but let me know if I can help with anything.”

  “Thanks, Carmine, we’ll give you a call,” Bob told him as he hung up.

  “If he’s already on thin ice with his pals in New York…” Ace began to ask.

  “Maybe we can give him a push?” Koz finished the thought.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Bob answered. “We also need to dig into Martijn Van Gries, our talented Dutchman. He’s closest to Carbonari, and we need find out everything there is to know about him — where he’s from, where else he’s worked, if he has a police record anywhere, and what his weaknesses are. The same holds true for the missing Shaka Corliss. I’m confident he has a police record as long as my arm, but let’s find out."

  Bob paused and looked around the table. “For those who’d like to tag along, plan on leaving in forty-eight hours. That means start putting together lists of anything you think you’ll need.” He made eye contact with each of them, and concluded with, “Great, let’s plan on getting together here at 08:00 and noon each day until we leave. Now let’s get to it.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Atlantic City

  It was 3:30 that afternoon when Martijn Van Gries’s administrative assistant, Eva Pender, called back to his desk. “I have a Congressman Jepperson from Harlem on line three. All those DC people ever want is comps. Want me to get rid of him, or let him die on hold?”

  “No, no, he is returning my call. I shall take it.” Van Gries told her as he raised his finger to punch the lit button for line three, and then he stopped. “Dinner later on the boat, Eva?”

  “I’ve been thinking of nothing else all afternoon.”

  “How utterly delicious. The gangplank will be out at 7:00.”

  “Yours or the boat’s?” she asked in a husky voice as she hung up.

  Martijn tried to refocus as he pressed line #3 and said, “Congressman, how nice to talk to you again. Did you learn anything about our friend?”

  “Yeah, well, anything for Donnie. You know, I been callin’ him Donnie since he was a little kid playin’ under his father’s big desk in that cracker box office behind the bar over on Pacific, where he kept book. Yeah, we used to go down there all the time. He always showed us a good time. You never meet Donnie’s old man, Crazy Eddie did you?”

  “No, regrettably, I never had the pleasure.”

  “Weren’t never no pleasure,” Jefferson laughed and coughed. “He was one ornery old son of a bitch.”

  “Ah, the good old days.”

  “Some, but I’d be lyin’ if’n I said they wuz all good.”

  “Congressman, as much as I enjoyed reminiscing, did you learn anything?”

  “Frankly, not a whole hell of a lot, Marty. You know, I’m on the House Armed Services Committee. Been on it for… oh, hell, maybe since George Washington, but I couldn’t get squat out of the Pentagon, or outta that damned bunch down at Fort Bragg, neither. Gotta tell you, I ain’t used to being treated like that, and there’ll be hell to pay in the next budget.”

  “What did you learn? Anything?”

  “They let one of my staffers take a look at his 201 File. That’s his army personnel file. Says he was a top graduate from West Point and served fifteen years in the Signal Corps. That’s bullshit! He got most every medal they can give a man, which is real pe-cu-liar for the Signal Corps. Anyway, most of his file was ‘redacted,’ which is a fancy word for sayin’ somebody crossed everything out with a thick black marking pen, so you cain’t read it. That’s ‘national security’ stuff. Means he musta been Special Operations, Delta Force, Green Berets, or maybe even the damned CIA. So, you ain’t gonna learn much about what he really did.”

  Van Gries thought it over for a minute. “I understand. My younger brother performed similar duties in the Royal Dutch Marines.”

  “Well, I don’t know nuthin’ about them Dutch Marines, but I called a colonel I know in G-2 at the Pentagon, and all he’d tell me was this fella’ Burke was ‘a real bad ass,’ very lethal. So you can take that for what it’s worth, ’cause it’s all you’re gonna get.”

  Martijn leaned back in his desk chair for a moment, thinking. Finally, he got up and took the executive elevator to the penthouse. Martijn’s technicians swept the offices every day for bugs, and he had recently installed white noise and jamming gear; but in their business, one can never be too careful. He sat down across from Donatello and said, “With the departure of some key members of our Risk Management staff we need to find some new people, some good people, to replace them.”

  “Okay, I’ll call Philly, or maybe Angelo in Brooklyn, and see who’s available.”

  “Are you sure that is the direction you want to go?” Van Gries asked, sounding pointedly skeptical. “I heard back from that Harlem congressman you told me to call.”

  “Jepperson? Did he learn anything?”

  “Not much, which speaks volumes in itself.”

  “I’m tired of your goddamn Dutch riddles. What did he say?”

  “Burke’s file is mostly top-secret. All the good parts are redacted, crossed out, so you cannot read them.”

  “What’s that mean? Is he some kind of spy, or something?”

  “Perhaps, or the Army version anyway. He attended West Point and worked in special operations, where he was referred to as ‘a real bad ass.’ His words, not mine.”

  “I’ve known a few bad asses, myself.”

  “Not with his skill set. Remember how easily he took Corliss and the twins down with his bare hands? I saw him do it once and you saw him do it the second time. I hate to think of what he could do with a pistol or a rifle.”

  Carbonari frowned and thought it over. “Yeah, maybe you’re right, he is different.”

  “If we bring in more clowns like the last bunch, he’ll go right through them, too.”

  “All right, smart guy, who then?” Carbonari asked, frustrated.

  “Give me until tomorrow morning. My brother was in the Dutch Royal Marines, their Special Forces. He has fought all over the world with many of the same type people as Burke. I shall call him. I think we need to fight fire with fire.”

  “Your brother?” Carbonari mused. “How yummy. Is he… like you?”

  “No, the complete opposite, I am afraid — cold, clear eyed, and deadly as Cleopatra’s asp. He and some of his men operate a private security company to handle protection for ‘high net-worth individuals’ throughout the Middle East. On occasion, they get called upon to ‘eliminate pests,’ some of whom were just as difficult as the one confronting us.”

  “But your brother? Isn’t that nepotism?”

  “Nepotism? Your Sicilian ‘fraternity’ was founded on nepotism, wasn’t it?”

  “All right, give him a call, but we need to put an end to this thing.”

  As their meeting took a ten-minute break, Bob motioned for Patsy and Linda t
o come up front and talk to him. “I need someone in charge of logistics — travel, hotel rooms, rental cars, meeting places, supplies, cell phones, a boat, all that stuff. You two would be perfect.”

  “Sounds awfully sexist to me.” Linda folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

  “Process of elimination,” he countered. “Look, it’s what you two used to do for a living, and you can’t go anywhere near the casino, anyway. Besides, I don’t want either of you shooting anybody again… or getting shot at. We need to find an operational base in Atlantic City. I was thinking of that old Holiday Inn on Atlantic Avenue. It’s only a few miles from the Bimini Bay, and not flashy. We also need plane tickets to Philly, and some cars. We can pick them up at the Philly airport — different car agencies, different credit cards, you get the idea.

  “While we’re doing all the drudge work, what are you going to be doing?” Linda asked.

  “Me? I’m going to be renting us a really big boat that I found online.”

  “A boat? Why is it you get all the fun?” Linda glared at him.

  “Our company lawyer, George Grierson, is finalizing the arrangements. If you get your work done and you’re nice to me, I might even take you down to Cape May when I go to pick it up. You too, Patsy.”

  “Oh, no, I know you two. It’ll get way too noisy below deck for my innocent ears — all that moaning and screaming. You might even capsize the boat.”

  “That’s all him,” Linda answered, straight faced. “I just lie there.”

  “Uh, it’s not his voice I hear.” Patsy shook her head. “If it’s just the same to you, I’ll stay behind, so you two can have your fun without any inhibitions… and without me getting jealous.”

  “That’s not why you want to stay behind, and you know it, girl,” Linda said as she looked up at Bob. “She thinks Jimmy Barker is cute, so cute in fact…”

  “Barker? You mean the skinny Geek?” Bob asked.

  “Linda! I can’t say anything around you, can I?” Patsy glared at her.

  “None of my business,” Bob raised his hands in mock surrender. “But I’m not sure how much experience Jimmy’s had with the fairer sex.”

  “I doubt he’s had experience with any sex at all,” Linda clucked as Patsy turned red.

  Bob looked at her. “I hate to get personal, but you just spent three months with Vinnie. I know this has been a pretty bad week for you, but Jimmy? You’re sure you’re not jumping into something? He might be a… change of pace for you.”

  Patsy looked down at the floor for a moment, carefully composing what she was about to say. “Don’t get me wrong, major; I liked Vinnie, I liked him a lot. He was fun, but everything’s been kind of a blur since Chicago. He talked me into coming down here with him, and there was the money, and the house, and he put me on his insurance, which I did not want; but… it all kind of happened. I had just turned twenty-one, and he was… how can I put this? He was a real man, with a lot more experience, as you call it, than I had. Anyway, we had a lot of fun… a lot of fun. But with his age and what he did in the Army, it was never going to be permanent between us. He knew that, and so did I. We were both out to have a good time, and we did, but… well, Jimmy’s my age. We like the same kind of music, and he’s so smart… and, well, so cuddly.”

  “Vinnie was a lot of things, but cuddly was not one of them,” Linda conceded.

  “Look,” Bob told her, “when this is over, we’ll all go back down to Bragg. You have a house and that insurance to take care of. After that, you can stay down there or come back to Chicago with us, whatever you want. So don’t worry.”

  Linda gave her a big hug. “So have that fun and get all the ‘cuddling,’ you want. You’ve earned it.”

  “And if Jimmy doesn’t take the hint, Linda will throw him in your room some night and lock the door,” Bob added.

  “Oh, he doesn’t need any hints,” Patsy said as her face turned red.

  “Just don’t hurt the poor thing,” Linda told her.

  When the group reconvened, Bob told them, “I was checking the online employment ads in the Press of Atlantic City. The Bimini Bay has a big ad in there almost every day for janitors and cleaning staff. That would be a great way to get a couple of our guys inside. Master Sergeant Randall, who are the biggest neat freaks in the outfit?”

  Ace’s eyes narrowed as he looked around the table at face after face that looked away and wouldn’t return his stare. “Well, major, it’s a very close race. But after considerable thought, I think it would have to be Lonzo and Chester.”

  Those two groaned, while the other three clapped and grinned.

  “When we get to Atlantic City, I want you two guys to go in and apply. Tell them you cleaned office buildings in… Boston. The odds are they don’t know anybody up there.”

  “What’s it pay?” Chester asked.

  “With experience, I thought I saw twelve dollars an hour.”

  “That’s more than we’re making now,” Lonzo told Chester. “Maybe we should stay.”

  “See, a whole new career field has opened up for you guys,” Bob laughed.

  “What about a background check? Won’t that blow the whole thing?” Dorothy asked.

  The Delta guys around the table shook their heads and snickered; and she heard them say things like, “Noob,” “Newbie,” “Background check?” and, “Where’d you get her?”

  Bob smiled. “JSOC has a document staff section that does nothing but build phony ‘legends,’ or ID packages for our guys. They always have four or five ready to go for the operators, so I’ll take advantage of General Stansky’s offer,” Bob said as he pulled the business card the general gave him. “I’ll make a call and get some made up.”

  “It’s that easy, huh?” Linda asked.

  “Yep, it’s that easy,” Bob old her. “Everybody who works on the casino floor has to be certified by the State Gambling Commission, but that takes a couple of weeks. Everybody wants to be a dealer; but they’re so short on semi-skilled labor at all the casinos that they’ll jump on two men with cleaning experience who speak English and are ready to start. They’ll probably put you to work cleaning the offices, since that doesn’t fall under the Commission rules, and that’s exactly where I want you. It’ll get you inside the Business Office, maybe even Van Gries’s.”

  Finally, Bob smiled as he turned toward Dorothy. “I don’t want us to fly commercial. A Gulfstream G-550 is pretty nice, isn’t it? Can you fly one of those?”

  “Are you kidding?” she grinned. It’s the gold standard for civilian aviation; and yes, I can fly one. I can also fly an F-16 Eagle, an F-22 Raptor, and I’ve even put some time on the new F-35 Lightning,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “I can also fly most helicopters, but I don’t usually count them.”

  Ace patted her hand and said, “She’s mine, and she’s taken.”

  “I can see why,” Bob laughed. “I don’t think I can get any of the others, but I’ll rent the jet for a week or two and you can fly us up. Let’s figure wheels up at 18:00, folks. That’s 6:00 p.m. for you civilians.” he said, looking straight at Linda and Patsy.

  “Smart-ass. I know what 18:00 is,” Linda told him. “I watch NCIS.”

  “Good to know. Well, between reruns, get Ace and Koz rooms at the Tuscany Towers and Siesta Cove,” he said as he turned to the two Deltas. “Their roofs look to be the right height and distance from the Bimini Bay for a nest or two, if we need them.”

  “A nest…?” Linda asked as the men all turned and looked at her again. “Okay, okay, don’t ask, right?”

  Bob rolled his eyes and finally looked over at Ace. “We need some good tactical communications. If you can, get us one of those new PRC 154A Rifleman systems and a dozen of the headsets. And stop by the arms room and check out some of your favorite toys.”

  “A couple of Barrett .50-calibers?” Ace asked hopefully.

  “That works for me,” Bob said as he watched Ace smile. “And take the guys to the ‘Haberdashery’ for an
assortment of costumes that might be useful — Otis Elevator, Direct TV, Trane Air Conditioning, you know,” he said as he looked around the table. “That should do. See you all at Windermere Airport at 18:00.”

  When Linda called the Holiday Inn, she went into her full “executive assistant” mode, telling the manager they were doing some very sensitive analytical work for the casinos and did not negotiate his hugely inflated rack rates. She insisted on six top-floor rooms and the ‘Presidential’ suite. It featured two large bedrooms, where she put the Geeks, a living room, and a large dining room table, where they could spread out their computers, maps and papers. She rented them for a week, in return for which, they were to have total privacy, doing their own room cleaning and eating their meals in the hotel restaurant or through room service. It was the sweetest piece of business the manager had seen in over a year. Giddy, he even allowed them to install small satellite dishes and an antenna array on the balcony. To the geeks, those were worth any price, because they provided a secure, ultra-high-speed, satellite connection to the Toler TeleCom corporate data and telephone network.

  By 9:00 p.m., they had landed at the small Atlantic City “International” Airport and driven into the city, ten miles to the south. Jimmy and Ronald were busily setting up the data and communications dishes and equipment on the balcony. Lonzo and Chester had left to recon the Siesta Cove, while Koz and Bulldog took the Tuscany Towers. Because the Bimini Bay was the biggest and had central administrative offices and presumably the central computers, Bob sent two teams — Ace and Dorothy, and Ernie Travers and The Batman.

  The crews were casually dressed in blue jeans, windbreakers, sports team gear, and NASCAR jackets, and indistinguishable from the rest of the middle-aged, long-haired tourists inside. The assignment was to check out the slots, table games, sports book, hotel lobby and common areas, bars, and restaurants, observing the guards, the security cameras, and the closed-circuit television feeds. Are the guards stationary, did they circulate, and were they armed? If possible they were to gain entrance to some of the rear service corridors, administrative offices, building roofs, and the basements, as well. Outside, Bob also wanted information on the doors, utility pads, parking garage, surface parking lots, telephone lines, switch boxes, perimeter lighting, satellite dishes, and the Bimini Bay boat marina.