Burke's War: Bob Burke Action Thriller 1 (Bob Burke Action Thrillers)

by William F. Brown

  Greenway’s eyes suddenly grew wide and he flew into a rage. He could see the blood on his own arm, he could feel himself growing weak, and he knew they would never let them off the roof. It was his only chance. “You…!” he screamed and shoved Patsy aside, turned, and swung the Colt Python toward Burke. As he did, Patsy wrapped her arms around Ellie and pulled her down, shielding the little girl with her body as Bob Burke leaped at Greenway.

  Two gunshots rang out almost simultaneously, followed quickly by a third. The first was the loud, base roar of Greenway’s 357-Magnum as it spit six inches of blue-white flame and a very powerful bullet at Bob Burke. It struck him in the center of his chest like a heavyweight’s body punch, stopping him in midair and knocking him backward onto on the roof. The second and third gunshots came from a 9-millimeter Beretta. The first caught Greenway in the gut and bent him over at the waist. His eyes dropped to his stomach and he saw a large hole at the center of his pain. Stunned, he looked up and saw Linda Sylvester standing in front of him with a large smoking automatic in her hand and the angriest, most vengeful eyes he had ever seen. That was when a second bullet from her Beretta hit him in the chest. It punched him backward on rubbery legs until they reached the knee-high parapet wall and he lost his balance. He toppled backward off the roof, cartwheeling through the air until he landed on the concrete sidewalk in front of the building’s revolving doors, far below.

  Linda was the first to react to Bob being shot. “No! Oh, God, no!” she screamed as she ran to his side and raised his unconscious head in her lap.

  Ace reached him at the same time, dropping his rifle on the roof. He knelt next to Bob, tearing at his black over-shirt to reveal the tactical protection vest he wore underneath. There was a tear in the center of the vest. Ace immediately ripped open the overlapping high tech panels, expecting the worst. “You damned fool!” he growled.

  Finally, Burke emitted a painful groan, grabbed his chest, and began to cough. “It’s ‘you damned fool, Sir,’ ” he managed to correct the senior enlisted man.

  “Don’t pull that Sir crap with me, you’re retired,” Ace fired back. “And that vest ain’t rated for no .357-Magnum. You took it right to the edge, my man, and then some.” He felt around under the panels, but found no blood, only the spent .357 slug, which he pulled out and pressed into Bob’s palm. “Here’s your souvenir for the evening, Major.”

  “God, that hurts!” Bob said as his fingers probed his own side, “I think I have a couple of broken ribs.”

  Patsy rushed over and lowered Ellie to the ground next to her mother. “That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do,” Patsy said to Bob.

  “And the dumbest!” Linda added angrily.

  “Not really,” Bob shrugged. “It was a… well-calculated risk.”

  “Calculated risk? Like I haven’t heard that one before!” Ace grumbled.

  “Hey, he only had one bullet, I had the vest, and you were behind me, Ace, ready to take him out as soon as he moved. So, where’s the risk?”

  “The risk? Well, for starters, I didn’t have a shot; Linda got in the way. She took it, not me,” Ace said, as he looked at Linda with new found respect. "But Greenway fired first, and you almost bought the farm."

  “Details,” Bob dismissed the thought as he turned and looked up at her. “I thought you said you couldn’t shoot.”

  “I said I hate guns, I never said I couldn’t shoot one,” Linda admitted, embarrassed. “My husband — my ex-husband — kept dragging me out to the range and insisted I learn.”

  “Well, it was a sweet shot, and I guess I have one thing to thank him for, anyway,” Bob said.

  Linda continue to glare at him, and then turned toward Patsy. “Besides, what you did was almost as brave as what he did,” Linda held out her arms to Patsy. The two women gathered Ellie between them, wrapped their arms around each other, and began to cry.

  Finally, she turned back to Bob Burke. “Robert, half of me wants to strangle you, right here and now, while the other half wants to hug you too. Oh, hell,” she said as she leaned forward with Patsy and Ellie and they all wrapped their arms around him and squeezed.

  “Ah! Watch the ribs, the ribs!” he groaned. “Look, I’d love to stay here and get more of this tender, loving care, but we need to get moving. Ace…”

  “Vinny and I will police our way down to the lobby and meet you at the SUV in Three.”

  “In Three,” Bob confirmed. “Girls, a little help up here,” he added as he reached his arms out to Linda and Patsy, and let them pull him up to his feet. “Lord, I hope no one else needs saving tonight, because they’re gonna have to call someone else.”

  By the time Ace and Vinny finished policing up their shell casings, Linda, Patsy, Ellie, and Bob were already in the SUV's two rear seats, waiting. When Ace came out the building’s side employee door, he placed a beautifully hand-tooled leather briefcase in Bob's lap. “We found this on the third floor landing in front of the elevator doors,” he said.

  Bob looked at it and said, “It’s Greenway’s. I remember he sat it down there just before I shot him.”

  “I think that’s why he came back here,” Patsy said.

  “Scalese told us that Greenway was headed back here to get his stash,” Bob said as he examined the briefcase’s hinges and locks and checked for any wires or signs the case had been tampered with or booby-trapped, but he saw nothing.

  “It must be important,” Patsy added. “He dragged us up to his office to get it, when he could’ve just taken off and run.”

  Bob assumed the case was locked, but he pressed the two buttons anyway. To his surprise, they snapped open. “Looks like he was in a big hurry and didn’t even lock it.”

  Linda was sitting next to him as he raised the top, and she pressed closer for a better look. “Wow!” she exclaimed. Inside the briefcase they saw dozens of stacks of hundred-dollar bills, four black-velvet bags with drawstrings, and a thick folder of papers. Bob picked up the folder as Linda’s forefinger probed the stacks of cash. She picked up one of the velvet bags, pulled the drawstring open, and peeked inside. “It’s full of diamonds,” she whispered.

  Meanwhile, Bob looked inside the folder and saw a stack of multicolored certificates. He fanned the stack with his fingernail. “Bearer Bonds, in one-thousand-dollar denominations. They’re as good as cash.”

  “Looks like ‘doctoring’ pays pretty good these days,” Linda said.

  Bob poked Ace in the shoulder and said, “Let’s get out of here. I don’t know if Indian Hills has any cops left; but if they do, they should be here soon, so let’s get back to the airport.”

  “Roger, that,” Ace answered. “I’ll get a Sit Rep and ETA from Chester and Koz and call the pilot too. I’ll tell him wheels up in Fifteen.”

  “By the way, where are Chester, Koz, and the Batman?” Linda asked as they drove out of the business park. “I didn’t see them after we left the Forest Preserve.”

  “They’re off taking care of a few things for me.”

  “Chester says everything’s copacetic,” Ace spoke up. “They have the stuff and they’re on schedule to meet us at the airplane.”

  “Outstanding! Call Ernie Travers, too,” Bob leaned forward and said. “Ask him if he can meet us at the plane. Tell him I have some more presents for him. That should get him moving.”

  “Is that where we’re going? That private airport in Mount Prospect? But what about…”

  “You, Ellie, and Patsy?” Bob cut her off and slowly, painfully, turned so he could see her face and Patsy’s, “I was hoping all three of you would come with us for a while.”

  “You mean to North Carolina?” Linda asked. “Bob, I can’t take off like that. Ellie has school, and there’s my job, and I’ve got to get my car back, and…”

  “Look, CHC is as dead as Greenway and Scalese now. You need to be away from here and someplace else for a few days until Ernie can work some of his police magic. He’s giving Eleanor’s reports and the flash drive
to some Tribune and Sun-Times reporters. That will blow the lid off their operation, including the cops and politicians they’ve been paying off. In a few days, we’ll be cleared and DiGrigoria and his pals will be the ones on the run, not us.”

  “But North Carolina? I don’t even have a toothbrush,” Linda argued, and Patsy agreed.

  “Linda,” Bob patted the top of the briefcase. “There’s… I don’t know, a million dollars? Maybe a whole lot more in here, and none of it belongs to anyone anymore. That’ll buy you a whole bunch of toothbrushes, a new wardrobe, a couple swimming suits, some nice party clothes, and a new car. The O’Hare Parking Authority can keep the old one. And, when we’re done we can make big contributions to the Disabled American Vets and the Fisher House Foundation with what’s left.”

  “But what about the investigations and O’Malley?” Linda continued to argue.

  Bob smiled. “Mr. O’Malley is about to have more problems than he can imagine. As for tonight, I know a dozen guys and their wives, including the Commanding General, who’ll swear on a stack of Bibles that we’ve been down there all week. Besides, there’s no place on earth where you and Ellie will be safer for the next few days than inside the gates of Fort Bragg with 40,000 of my close personal friends to keep an eye on you.”

  “You can arrange all that?” Linda asked. “I… I don’t know.”

  “Linda, get real!” Patsy said. “Think of what almost happened to us — you, Ellie, and me. Besides, neither of us has a job or anyone else to go back to now.”

  “And don’t worry about your jobs,” Bob told both of them. “By the end of the week, after Ernie gets all those bogus charges dropped, I’ll have my company back and you two can come to work for me.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be right, Bob. People might get the wrong idea,” Linda answered.

  “Let’s worry about that later,” he told her as he pulled Ellie up into his lap. “For now, I think we all need a little vacation, don’t we, Ellie? A little quality time around the pool, with lots of ice cream and funny drinks with umbrellas?” he asked, and the little girl quickly smiled and nodded. “Besides, with these ribs, you’re pretty safe. Even so, I’d like to spend some time getting to know the two of you better, if that’s okay with you.”

  This time it was Linda’s turn to smile and nod. “You’re right, that does sound good.”

  “Look,” Patsy interjected, “I know what you two will be doing for R&R, not that it’s any of my business, but what does that make me? The babysitter?

  “Patsy, we’re throwing a big party tonight after we all get some sleep,” Bob told her.

  “And I can think of at least two dozen guys who will be happy to fill your dance card, girl,” Vinnie laughed. “You’ll have no shortage of your own R&R, believe me.”

  “Mommy, what’s R&R?” Ellie asked, and the big kids all cracked up laughing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Salvatore DiGrigoria was forty-five minutes late arriving at the office the next morning. Mr. D was punctual to a fault and was never late for anything. This unheard-of tardiness brought his older sister and longtime secretary, Gabriella, to the verge of a nervous breakdown. Salvatore had a housekeeper, a cook, a driver, and two bodyguards to watch over him; so, when he was suddenly late like this at his age, she feared the worst. Finally, she heard the elevator “Ding!” When her brother stepped out, she breathed a sigh of relief and mumbled a quick “Hail Mary.” He hurried on past, completely ignoring her, which was even more unusual, appearing distracted, and from his expression, more than a little angry. Worse still, Salvatore was a proud little man who resembled a beer keg on legs, but he was always well groomed. Today however, his hair was a mess, he hadn’t shaved, and his herky-jerky stride resembled a bowling ball careening down a flight of stairs. This was not good, Gabriella thought.

  “Salvatore, are you alright?” she called out to him. “I was worried that…”

  “Da goddamned reporters woke me up. Dere must ’a been a hundred of ’em camped out around da house. I could hardly get out ’a dere. It's dat goddamned Enzo, I’m gonna kill ’im!”

  The grim expression on his face told her not to ask anything more. Something was seriously wrong. As he passed her desk, he jabbed a stubby finger on the fresh, neatly folded copy of the Chicago Tribune, which Gabriella dutifully placed there for him each morning. “I already read da goddamn thing,” he growled, pointing to a battered copy under his arm, which someone must have given him. “Did you read it?” he asked gruffly, knowing she never read the newspaper. “Well, today, you better! Dat goddamned Enzo!”

  Now, Gabriella was truly flustered. Sal never swore, at least not in front of her, and he only talked about his brothers behind closed doors. “I’ll bring you your espresso,” she called to him as he went into his office and slammed the door behind him. Between the newspaper and a jolt of Sicilian espresso, she could only imagine what his blood pressure would be this morning.

  The old man threw the battered copy of the Tribune on his desk and quickly sat down. He opened it to the front page and looked at it again, although he already knew what it said, word for word. The banner headline was all he needed to see to know today would be a fiasco:

  MOB SHOOTOUT IN SUBURBS

  Sixteen members of the warring North and South Side branches of the DiGrigoria crime family died in a bloody shootout as their long-simmering gangland turf fight exploded in a pitched gun battle last night in the Parker Woods Forest Preserve …

  “ ‘Da warring North and South side branches…?’ ‘Long-simmering…?’ What da hell are dey talking about,” old Sal mumbled, growing angrier and more confused as he read on:

  According to State Police sources, the dead included long-time DiGrigoria underboss Tony Scalese, as well as underbosses Eddie Fanucci, Johnny Corso, Jimmy DiCiccio, and others…

  DiGrigoria blinked, stunned as he re-read the long list of names. In the sidebar articles accompanying the main story, the news was infinitely worse.

  LOCAL DOCTOR FOUND SHOT TO DEATH

  Prominent local doctor Lawrence Greenway, President and founder of Consolidated Health Care (CHC) in suburban Indian Hills was found shot to death outside his company offices early this morning. Inside, police found the bodies of three DiGrigoria gunmen. Greenway has been linked to organized crime, and CHC is long believed to be a mob front according to Chicago Crime Commission sources. Financial documents obtained last night by the Tribune reveal a pattern of corruption and fraud in Federal Medicare and Medicaid programs and insurance billing…

  Even that pervert Greenway got it! Well, at least there was one spot of good news, DiGrigoria reluctantly admitted as his eyes turned to another sidebar.

  US ATTORNEY LINKED TO MOB

  Documents obtained by the Chicago Tribune reveal substantial payments from Consolidated Health Care and DiGrigoria crime family underboss Tony Scalese to Peter O’Malley, US Attorney for Northern Illinois. Records show cash and campaign contributions in excess of $1 million dollars this year alone. Phone calls to O’Malley, the local office of the FBI, and O’Malley’s Justice Department superiors in Washington D.C., were not returned.

  Salvatore sat back in his chair, stunned. Tony? My Tony paying off O’Malley? Salvatore knew nothing about any of that. Tony? One million dollars? “Dat son-of-a-bitch!” Salvatore screamed as he suddenly realized Scalese cut a deal with that bastard and sold him out. “Dat rat!” he fumed as he re-read the story and still couldn’t believe it. How could things possibly get any worse? Then he saw the next sidebar story, and realized they had.

  REPORTERS OBTAIN DIGRIGORIA FINANCIAL DOCUMENTS

  In an unprecedented joint investigation, The Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times have acquired detailed financial records of Federated Environmental Services and Federated Investments in Evanston, the parent corporations of Consolidated Health Care, all owned by reputed mob boss Salvatore DiGrigoria. They show payoffs to dozens of local law enforcement officials, including Indian Hills Police Chief
Cyrus Bentley, found shot to death last night. The documents obtained by the Tribune and Sun-Times include ledger books hand-written by DiGrigoria himself…

  The old man’s eyes grew wide. “What?” he screamed as he jumped to his feet, shaking with anger as he read and re-read that last sentence. “My ‘hand-written’ ledger books?” he said as he stared at Uncle Luigi’s five-foot high Yale safe sitting against the far wall. It looked exactly as it had when he locked it and left the office yesterday. Those liars! That goddamned newspaper lied, as usual. They didn’t have his ledger books; they couldn’t, because that safe was impregnable.

  Salvatore crossed the room, stood next to it, reached out, and touched the door. Its surface was cool, thick, and reassuring, as usual; but he knew he must be certain. He bent down in front of the safe as quickly as his aching old knees and back would allow, entered the five-number combination, and turned the locking handle with a soft click! He swung the door wide open and stuck his head inside. To his horror, he saw that the top half of his stack of ledger books, the ones for the past fifteen years, were indeed gone! In their place sat a single sheet of heavy, white stationery with something written on it. He leaned closer and read the large printed letters, which said, “Fry in Hell, you old bastard! The Telephone Guy.”

  It would be nice to think the “old bastard” actually read the entire note; but the truth was, unless he was a speed-reader, he was unlikely to have read more than the first half before the eight ounces of Semtex plastique at the back of the safe exploded. It lifted the six-hundred-pound safe off the floor, shattered its steel plates and welds, and blew what was left of Salvatore DiGrigoria across the room and out his office window. Later, a few cynical cops wondered if any pieces of the old man might have carried far enough to reach his private burial ground in Lake Michigan. However, most realized that they were unlikely to have made it much farther than Sheridan Road.

  XXX

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