by David Nees
Jane smiled. “It may be, but that’s how I read it. Now take this phone and let me help you get out of there when you’re done.”
“What do I do with my car?”
“You know the answer to that. You leave it. An out-of-town car is the first thing the police will focus on. I suppose you’ll park it near Charlemont, but you’re not going back there, you’re going north, through the woods.”
“All right. I’ll take the phone. But it seems to me that you’re taking quite a chance yourself.”
“Maybe now you’ll trust me more, since I’ve got some skin in the game. By the way, we can only talk briefly on the phone. If things get hot, all cell calls will be monitored. They can pick up this call but will only hear static. If it goes on too long, or if we use the phone repeatedly, someone will get suspicious and figure out this is a scrambled call. That will raise the stakes. A single call to let me know you’re on your way to the vehicle, and then one when you get close is all we can risk.”
“Got it.” Dan’s military training was kicking in. Jane had an operational plan, for the back end of whatever Dan was planning and his instinct was to coordinate his plan with hers. He now figured he had better work out his part of the plan to the same level of professionalism.
“And we can talk about the finer points of the ethics of what I’m about later, when you are safely away from this mad adventure of yours.” Dan looked at her sharply. “Yes, I do think it’s mad. You have friends you put in danger and kept at arm’s length and a growing paranoia that could keep you isolated forever. I hope you’ll achieve whatever closure you’re looking for with this last act.”
Chapter 47
Vincent was growing more and more nervous about Carmine. Sheila reported that Gina kept asking probing questions about her, about him, and how they were handling the police scrutiny. It was bringing Sheila to near panic, which didn’t help his peace of mind. He tried to set up a meeting with Carmine, but found him hard to get a hold of. That fact did nothing to alleviate his anxiety.
When he finally did get to sit down with him, it was not in Carmine’s office near the docks. They met at a modest safe house on a quiet Brooklyn street. It was used as a place to lay low when things got too hot. There hadn’t been much need for it in the last few years with things being quiet. Now things were very much not quiet.
When Vincent asked about the location, Carmine explained that with all the focus on him, Carmine had to keep him at arm’s length, just until things settled down. They shouldn’t be seen together. Carmine’s explanation only fed Vincent’s growing worries.
“Carmine, are we okay? I mean, are things straight between us?” he asked when they sat down in the kitchen. Vincent had on his usual knit pullover shirt and slacks. Carmine was well-dressed as always in an expensive suit, silk shirt and bold tie.
“Yeah, sure. Things are fine. You just need to get this mess with Dan under control.” He leaned forward over the table. “Look, Silvio is getting on my back, and so I gotta put the pressure on you. And this guy, Warner, you gotta make sure no one is talking to him.”
“I’m trying, but he keeps coming around, even when I tell him not to. I sent Joey out of town, like you told me. And I made sure that Dan heard about it. I figure he’ll be out of town and things will settle down. Frank went with him and he understands no one comes back…just like you said. What else can I do?”
Carmine studied Vincent. He looked stressed out. Not like the calm, in control Vincent who ran his crew in a steady manner, always making money and keeping things calm. Now his territory was out of control. The drug gangs were starting to take advantage of the turmoil and skip their payments. The violence in the streets had gone up as they fought one another for an advantage. Was Vincent over his head with this crisis?
“How’s Sheila holding up?” he asked.
“She’s doing all right,” Vincent answered.
“It’s just that Gina feels she’s very upset. That she may be getting panicked by the pressure…you know, the shootings at the house, the cops, this FBI guy…” Carmine kept staring at Vincent as he spoke.
“Sheila’s okay, like I said. She wouldn’t say anything to anyone, certainly not the FBI.”
“I didn’t say she would,” Carmine replied, still staring at Vincent. “But I’m glad to hear that she can keep her mouth shut in times like this.” Carmine could see Vincent flinch, like he regretted what he’d just said.
“Maybe I can send her away, to visit her parents. They’re down in Florida. Get her away from the pressure till this is over.”
Carmine thought a moment, considering the value of Vincent’s suggestion. “That might help.”
Finally he stood up and walked around to Vincent who also stood. He grabbed him in a big hug. “You get this under control. You finish it. And you get this guy Warner out of your life. If I hear of you or any of your family talking with him, I can’t protect you from what Silvio might do.”
Carmine held him tightly as he whispered in his ear. “You got it?”
“I got it,” Vincent said and Carmine released him.
“Take care of business,” he said as Vincent walked to the front door.
Vincent felt shaky as he headed back to the restaurant. The brick with the note on it that said he was next and now Carmine’s clear threat were beginning to unnerve him. This mess that Joey created was going to get them killed.
When he got back to the restaurant, he threw everyone out of the back room and sat down at his desk for some time without moving, trying to focus his mind on the swirl of possibilities. How much did Carmine know? Had Silvio already decided he had to go? Would Dan finish off Joey? Would Frank be able to kill Dan or would Dan make good on his threat that he was next? His world was coming unstuck. Things were shifting fast, too fast for him to control. His head ached. Finally he picked up the phone and called the FBI agent.
“Warner here,” Mike said.
“Sheila begged me to call you, so I’m doing it. But I want you to know that you better not call her anymore.”
“Vincent, I’m glad you finally called. No, I won’t call Sheila, but I’m glad she talked you into calling.”
“So whadda you want to tell me?”
“I’m concerned that Carmine and Silvio are losing patience with you about this Dan thing. They’re worried about you losing control and you know what that means.”
“How do you know this?”
“Well, we get scraps of information, some phone intercepts. We have ways to get pieces of information, pieces we can put together to give us a picture of what’s going on. I’m afraid they’re losing confidence in you.”
“You expect me to believe that? Just ’cause you say it?”
“Vincent, you must have your own suspicion. You gotta know I’m not making all this up.”
Vincent didn’t answer. Mike continued. “Look, if things get too hot, you know what happens next. You’ve seen it. You know it can happen to you. It would be a shame for you and your family, but it doesn’t have to happen. I can provide protection for all of you. A new start, a new life away from this danger.”
“Yeah, all I have to do is become a rat. That’s something I won’t do. You’ll help me, but only if I spill my guts, tell you everything I know, rat out my friends—people I’ve known my whole life.”
“People who will kill you without a second thought,” Mike responded. “It will come from someone you’d never expect. You know I’m right. What do you owe those people who’ll kill you as soon as they lose confidence in you?” Mike now raised his voice. “What do you owe people who will kill you and leave your family destitute? Tell me, Vincent? You’re going to be loyal to your executioners?”
“All right, enough!” Vincent shouted back. “I gotta think about this. I can’t talk any more right now. I gotta go.”
“Don’t think too long. Remember, you’ll never see it coming.”
Tony quickly stepped back from the door after he heard Vincent hang up.
The scraps of conversation he’d heard didn’t sound good for Vincent, but Carmine told him to let him know if he heard anything important.
Chapter 48
Joey and Frank drove west on the Mass. Turnpike. Neither of them liked being out of the city. This was Hicksville. Now Joey had to hide out for who knows how long? Still, it was better than getting shot by Dan. Somebody needs to find that bastard and kill him.
But how? Joey didn’t have a clue. Dan seemed to live a life devoted to robbing and shooting up the crew. He didn’t believe for a moment that it was anyone else but Dan. He scowled as he thought about his situation. That smart-ass broke his leg in front of his restaurant and now was back in town robbing the crew, shooting up cars and Vincent’s house. It was like he had no normal life—something they could tap into—something that could link to him and help them track him down. As it was now, Dan simply appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared.
Joey didn’t feel bad about Rita getting killed. What the hell was she doing there so late that night anyway, especially if she was pregnant? It was a shame, but Joey didn’t feel any remorse, only anger that her death triggered this revenge campaign. It would have been better if she had lived. Dan would have gotten the message and come around. Still, both he and Rita were stubborn. It might not have come out different in the end. A surge of satisfaction coursed through Joey as he thought about Dan’s loss. He could exact all the revenge he wanted, it wouldn’t bring Rita back to life.
“To hell with him,” Joey said aloud as they drove down the highway. Frank looked over at him. Joey frowned. “Now maybe Dan will be taking more chances since he can’t find me. He might make a mistake and the guys can find him and finish him off.” He could only hope this enforced retreat to the mountains would be rewarded with Dan getting taken out of the picture. Then things could get back to normal and he could enjoy life again. Frank didn’t say a thing, simply turned to look out the window.
Frank didn’t talk much, didn’t show any emotion. It made Joey nervous. It was going to be uncomfortable to have him around for…who knew how long.
They drove up I-95 into Connecticut and turned north at New Haven on I-91. They passed through Hartford into Massachusetts and stopped in Greenfield for supplies. After getting some groceries the two turned west on Route 2. Nearing the end, at Frank’s insistence, they stopped in Charlemont to fill up the tank. After pumping the gas, Joey went inside to pay.
“What brings you out to our small town?” the cashier said, trying to be friendly. He seemed bored and probably looking to break up the monotony of the day.
“None of your business,” Joey replied without thinking. He didn’t like talking to strangers and didn’t like people asking him questions.
“No need to get upset, I just noticed your New York plates.” He reached out his hand. “My name’s Fred by the way, what’s yours?” Joey didn’t answer, but took the clerk’s hand. “We don’t get many strangers to this little town, although it’s a nice place. Most people are just driving through. They don’t stop. They’re headed for the state forests. We got the Mohawk Trail and Sandy Mountain State Forests right near here. They’re great for hiking and camping. You planning to do some camping? It’s a bit early in the season for that, but you’re ahead of the bugs, if you’re going out now. Later the mosquitoes come out and you better be prepared for them.”
Joey just stared at this guy rattling off information—a regular travel guide. He was about to say something smart, put him in his place and shut him up, when he remembered Vincent telling him to not make a scene in the local town.
“That’s interesting,” he finally said, interrupting the cashier’s monologue. “I’m staying at my boss’s lodge. Got some R and R time off and figured I’d get out in the boonies. What do people do for excitement around here?”
The cashier looked at him, surprised by the response. “Well, we don’t do much. If you want to see a movie, you got to drive to Greenfield. Most times the wife and I make it dinner and a movie, since we’re going to drive that far. There’s a Golden Corral there with an all-you-can-eat buffet. Definitely get your money’s worth.”
Joey’s smile was thin. This was worse than the dentist.
“Where are you staying?” the cashier continued. “I’ll bet I know the place. I help take care of some of the summer places people have near the forests. It’s good work. There’s always some interesting challenges—something to fix that you never thought would break. After a while, you think you’ve seen it all. Makes fixing things at the house a lot easier. I told my wife, Mary, nothing she shows me around the house can throw me off my game, since I’ve been doing caretaking work.” He smiled, seeming to Joey to be proud of his mastery of home repairs.
“I’ll bet you’re a regular whiz around the house,” Joey replied. The cashier didn’t catch the sarcasm in Joey’s response.
“So where is it you’re staying?”
“You probably haven’t heard of it. It’s a private place, doesn’t have a name.”
“Most don’t and I bet I have heard of it. Matter of fact, I bet I’ve worked at it. Go ahead, try me.” He finished up with a grin.
“It’s a private lodge at the end of West Hill Road.”
The cashier paused for a moment. “Yeah! I know the one. Fellow from New York City owns it. Two years ago I worked on the place with Dennis here in town. He got the job to repair the roof. Seems a tree fell down in the winter and broke through the roof. That was a tricky job. And the interior was damaged from snow and rain getting in. Dennis didn’t get to the camp for a few days. That was a bad storm. We couldn’t get out for two days. After the storm, Dennis went around checking on the properties he kept an eye on. A lot of them were damaged. You should’ve seen it—”
“I’m sure it was bad.” Joey didn’t want to let this guy get wound up into a story. “Look, I’ve got to get going. Don’t want to let my groceries spoil.”
“Oh yeah. I carry on.” The cashier rang up Joey’s gas. “You sure the lodge is open?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have driven all this way if it wasn’t. Do I look stupid to you?” Now Joey was getting an edge in his voice. Couldn’t this guy just shut up and give him his change? Now everyone in town would know where he was staying.
“Sorry. Since you came so far, I wanted to be sure you could turn on the gas when you get there. It still gets chilly at night.”
“That’s nice of you, but don’t worry about us. Just give me my change and I’ll be on my way. Matter of fact, keep the change. I appreciate the conversation,” he said without conviction and turned to the door.
“Don’t miss the left onto Route 8A, it’s just one block up. Go over the bridge. Can’t miss West Hill Road, just eight miles or so down the road.”
Joey went through the door without answering. He hoped he that guy wouldn’t feel the need to come out to see how he was doing. Maybe he should have said something about needing to be left alone? Oh, well. Better not say more. This could be a long stay.
Back in New Jersey, Dan loaded up his old car with some food, camping gear, his Remington 700 rifle and 9mm pistol. He also packed a sniper’s ghillie suit. With the addition of local vegetation, it would make him almost invisible in the woods. In his backpack he had multiple loaded magazines for both weapons.
He headed out of town towards Boston. Five hours later he drove into a long term parking lot at Logan Airport. There he picked out two cars at random and removed the front plate from each. He then drove off and, in a downtown parking garage, replaced his New York plates with Massachusetts plates. They didn’t match, but Dan was counting on no one comparing both front and rear plates at the same time. Seeing their rear plates, the drivers would probably not notice their missing front ones for some days. He hoped the extra few days would be enough to complete what he was planning to do.
After changing out his plates, Dan drove northwest out of Boston and picked up Route 2, which would take him west across the northern tier o
f the state. He avoided the faster Mass. Turnpike with its toll booths and cameras. In Greenfield, he stopped early to spend the night in a cheap motel along I-91 which ran through the edge of town. He used one of his disguises when he registered.
He wanted an early start so he could find a good place to stash his car. It would be found but Dan didn’t care about that. He just needed for it to be found well after his mission was completed and he was on his way out of the area. Before leaving New York he had spent four hours wiping the car down and wore gloves on this last drive so there would be little the police would learn from it.
Early the next morning, Dan drove west out of Greenfield on Route 2 to the town of Charlemont. There he turned south on 8A following the path of the Chicksley River which flowed north joining the Deerfield River at Charlemont. He would hide the car somewhere off Route 8A before he came to West Hill Road and from there, hike into the forest to set up his sniper position.
About a mile before West Hill Road, Dan came upon an abandoned side spur. It had been used as a local dump for old refrigerators and other trash. Now, with everyone being more environmentally conscious, the spur was not used, even though the trash remained. The important point was that at least half of the loop was shielded from the road. He drove his old car up the rutted track and forced it forward until it was hidden from the road. In a final thrust, he rammed the car partly into the brush
With the car partially buried, he spent the next three hours going over it, taking off the license plates and packing them away along with the correct plates, removing the VIN plate and giving it a final wipe down. Eventually it would be identified and shown to be registered to one of his aliases. But that could take weeks. After cleaning the car, Dan invested a couple of more hours collecting brush and placing it on top and around the car to hide it. When he was done the car looked like it had been left there a long time ago and one would only see it if they drove up the spur. Looking up the spur from 8A, one would see nothing.
