Rondell turned back to face the desk. His handwritten note of the information Danny Boy had given him on the BIX deal was still in front of the PC. He stared at it for a moment then grabbed the keyboard. After opening Google, he typed in BIX and hit enter. There were thousands of search results, so he sorted them and scrolled through the last month’s entries. There was no mention of a bid by Scanisoft or any other company, pretty much as expected. Then he typed in Scanisoft and scrolled through their search results. He found a PDF of their most recent annual report, downloaded it, and started reading the accounts. One of the pages toward the back of the report contained a list of auditors and other key advisers. One line stood out: Legal advisers—Brod, Haskins, & Dayton LLP. Didn’t Danny Boy say he was the partner on the account? So why wasn’t his firm shown here? Rondell read every page, but there was no mention of Dudek, Collins, & Hamilton. An hour later, he’d searched all news coverage relating to Scanisoft for the last year, and while he found many mentions of Brod, Haskins, & Dayton, there was nothing connecting Dudek’s to the company.
Then he loaded the Dudek web site, clicked on the Contact Us page, and punched the main switchboard number into his cell phone. “Can I speak to the partner handling the work for Scanisoft?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the receptionist after a few minutes of keeping him on hold, “but that company is not one of our clients.”
Rondell terminated the call and then picked up his desk phone. “Get in here.”
“What do you need?” Glass Eye said when he came into the office moments later.
“Tell the guys I don’t want them buying any BIX stock.”
“We haven’t started yet, but I thought you wanted as many as we could get.”
“Not any longer. Something’s not right about it.”
Glass Eye grabbed a seat. “What’s changed?” he said, lighting up a cigarette.
Rondell pointed to the cigarette. “Not in here.”
“I’m sorry.” Glass Eye put it out. “You were excited about the deal a couple of days ago.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Now I think about it, Danny Boy was a little too keen to sell it to me. Every other time I’ve seen him, I’ve had to squeeze him for details.”
“What do you think he’s up to?”
“I’m not sure. Why would he need to persuade me we should invest in any deal when he gets nothing out of it?”
“Is he setting us up somehow?”
“That’s what worries me.”
“It’s the kind of thing the Feds might do. If we hadn’t dealt with Crouten, then I’d say they could be behind this.”
“Have they been back since you paid him a visit?”
“We haven’t seen them, but that could explain the change in tactics. Maybe they’re working with your lawyer friend now.”
“Danny Boy’s up to something. I know it.”
Glass Eye angled his head. “Something else has happened, hasn’t it? I can tell.”
Rondell leaned back into his chair and pondered Glass Eye’s question. “He told me he acted for Scanisoft, but it turns out that ain’t true.”
“Why would he lie about something like that?”
“That’s what I don’t get.” Rondell thought for a moment. “You know the guy who came in here earlier?”
“The big guy I saw waiting in reception?”
Rondell nodded. “Well, he brought me some interesting news.”
“Oh yeah?”
“He’d been paid by Danny Boy to kill me.”
“Are you serious? He told you that?”
“He’s a small-time con over in Jersey. For some reason, Danny Boy thought he was a hit man and paid him ten grand to take me out.”
“When was this?”
“Weeks ago.”
Glass Eye clasped his hands together behind his head. “That might explain it.”
Rondell frowned. “What?”
“If Danny tried paying someone to kill you and that failed, maybe he went running to the FBI and cut a deal.”
“That makes sense. Maybe the BIX transaction is some kind of sting.”
“Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Go back and see Crouten. Find out what you can from him. I want to know for sure whether Danny Boy has been working with them.”
“How do you want to leave it?”
“You know I don’t like loose ends.”
“And Danny? How do we deal with him?”
“We can’t touch him yet. He’s too valuable to us.”
“One of the kids?”
“No. I have another idea.”
Chapter 52
CROUTEN STEPPED OUT OF THE SUBWAY STATION on West 86th just as it started to pelt down with rain. Fighting the wind blowing up Broadway, he managed to open his umbrella without turning it inside out. He held it angled in front of him to protect his suit from becoming completely drenched. As he took a left into West 84th, he didn’t see the two men sitting in the black Mercedes outside the bookstore. When he approached the car, Glass Eye lowered the driver window and aimed his pistol at Crouten.
“Get in the back,” Glass Eye said.
Crouten flinched and then started to run before the hired gorilla, who’d been following him on foot from the subway, grabbed his arm and forced him toward the vehicle. Once Crouten had been shoved into the back seat, he had Bull Neck on one side and the hired muscle on the other. As soon as the back door closed, Glass Eye pulled away, driving around the block and joining Broadway to head south.
Immediately, Crouten recognized two of the men as the ones who had broken into his apartment weeks before. “Look, I haven’t done anything.” There was panic in his voice.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bull Neck said, jabbing his elbow hard into Crouten’s ribcage. “One more word, and you’re a dead man.”
Crouten lowered his head and suffered the sharp pain in his side in silence.
It was dark by the time they reached the Sullivan Street warehouse in Brooklyn half an hour later. Bull Neck grabbed Crouten’s arm and pulled him out of the vehicle, while the gorilla came around and held onto his other arm. Glass Eye led the way along the corridor, past the office normally used by Rondell, and into the empty storage area at the back of the building. Crouten put up no resistance as they tied his hands behind his back and strapped his trembling body to a chair.
Glass Eye stood in front of him with his pistol pointed at Crouten’s head. “The moment we even think you’re telling us a lie, we kill you. Is that understood?”
Crouten nodded, beads of sweat emerging on his forehead.
“I can’t hear you.”
“I understand.” Crouten’s eyes were wide open and shining.
“Didn’t we tell you to stay away from Grannis when we came to see you?”
“I did.” Crouten’s voice was now reduced to a whimper. “I terminated the investigation immediately. I swear.”
Glass Eye whipped the pistol across Crouten’s face, drawing blood from his nose. “I don’t like that answer. Pick another one.”
Crouten’s breathing became a rapid pant. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Please don’t hurt me.”
Bull Neck looked at the gorilla and laughed before turning to Glass Eye. “Let’s just kill the pervert now.”
“Please. I stopped the investigation, but it’s possible my boss has restarted it.”
Glass Eye smiled. “That’s a better answer. Has he, or hasn’t he?”
Crouten started breathing through his mouth, unable to take in enough air through his broken nose. “I need you to know I did what you wanted. I called the whole team off as soon as you told me. Then my boss called me in one day, wanting to know where we’d gotten to on the case. I tried to tell him there was nothing worth pursuing and we were wasting our time.”
“Did he believe you?”
“At first, yes.” The blood from Crouten’s nose dripped onto his white shirt. “But he didn’t like
it. He suspected something was wrong because I dropped everything so suddenly. Then he looked at the surveillance records himself and decided it was worth carrying on.”
“So you were lying a moment ago? You said it was possible he’d restarted it.”
“I’m sorry.” Terror flashed across Crouten’s face. “Once I’d terminated the investigation, they moved me away from everything. They thought I’d screwed up and told me I’d never work in the field again. Since then, they’ve had me based in the office all the time. You have to understand I don’t get to see everything now. I think it has restarted. I’m pretty sure it has.”
“Do you believe him?” Bull Neck asked.
Glass Eye ignored the question and kept focused on Crouten. “What’s your boss’s name?”
“Caravini. Fabrizio Caravini.”
“I’ve seen him on the TV,” Bull Neck said. “Loves himself a little too much, if you ask me. He’s full of it.”
Glass Eye gave Bull Neck a look as if to say, “Shut the fuck up. I’m handling this.”
“Who does he have handling the case now?” Glass Eye said, turning to Crouten.
“I think Caravini’s doing most of it himself. I don’t think he has any surveillance teams working on it, but you have to understand that I don’t get to see much anymore. I don’t know the details. I’m not involved.”
Glass Eye screwed his face. “You must know something. If there’s no surveillance going on, then what is he up to?”
“I’m only guessing, but I think he’s working with someone from Dudek, Collins, & Hamilton. I’ve seen him in the building a couple of times.”
“What’s his name?”
“Michael Hoffman. He’s one of the partners. We had him under surveillance when I was running the job. That’s how Caravini discovered there’s a connection between Grannis and Hoffman. Now they appear to be working on something together.”
“What are they working on?”
“I don’t know. I swear.”
Glass Eye raised the pistol again.
Crouten swung his head back. “Please. I don’t know what they’re planning. All I know is that Hoffman’s been in and out of our place, always spending his time alone with Caravini.”
Glass Eye lowered his arm. “What do you think they’re up to? You must have some idea.”
“It would be Caravini’s style to put together some sort of trap. If he feels he doesn’t have enough hard evidence, he’ll make something up. I’ve seen it before. He’ll do whatever he needs to do. I’m assuming Hoffman’s helping him put it together somehow.”
Glass Eye chewed on the information. “Tell me about Caravini.”
“I don’t understand. What do you want to know?”
“What drives him? Tell me about the man.”
“He’s ambitious. Once he starts something, he’s a hard man to stop. He’s aiming to be mayor one day, and he sees this job as a good way to raise his profile. He’s hungry for results, and he’ll do what he has to do to get them.”
“Is he married?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“His wife is called Cindy. They live here in Brooklyn.”
“Address?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure I could find out for you.”
“Kids?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“That’s all I know.”
“There has to be more.”
“Look, if I knew anything, I’d tell you.”
Glass Eye nodded to Bull Neck, who walked over to the corner of the unit and picked up a pair of tree loppers. They were an expensive set: two and a half-inch cut Barnels with rubber grips. Crouten fought against the straps when he saw them in Bull Neck’s hands.
“Please,” Crouten screamed. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
Glass Eye was inches from Crouten’s face. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. It’s going to hurt. First, we’ll start with your middle fingers.”
The gorilla grabbed Crouten’s right middle finger and stretched it out, while Crouten fought to clench his hand together. When the finger was extended, the gorilla held it tight while Bull Neck placed the cold metal jaws around it. He looked at Glass Eye, waiting for the order to proceed.
“You have one last chance,” Glass Eye said. “And don’t think we’ll stop at your fingers.”
“Wait,” Crouten gasped. “I have remembered something. It might help.”
Glass Eye raised his left hand to his men. “I’m listening.”
“Caravini is seeing his personal assistant. I’m sure they’re sleeping together.”
“That’s more like it.”
“They go away on weekends together. His wife knows nothing about it.”
“And he wants to be mayor?”
“That’s right. He can’t afford for this to get out. At least, not now.”
“What’s the name of his assistant?”
“Abi Turner. She’s much younger than he is.”
“I like it. Anything else?”
Crouten thought for a moment. “No. That’s all I know. I promise.”
Glass Eye looked at his men. “Leave him for now.” They released his finger.
Crouten closed his eyes and dropped his head onto his chest, sobbing.
Glass Eye lifted the pistol to within six inches of Crouten’s head and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 53
THE IMPOSING RED BRICK CONDOMINIUM BUILDING sat on the corner of East 78th and 5th, overlooking Central Park. A silver BMW 7 Series Sedan exited the residents’ underground car park and headed southeast toward Madison before turning south along Park and then 2nd. Brian Etling was driving while Amanda had one of her two Samsung smartphones glued to her ear, barking orders to her younger team members still sitting at their desks at Corton Zander. They were going to be stuck at the office most of the night, and Amanda was assuring them they could get ahold of her if they needed to discuss anything on their latest deal. Brian shook his head in frustration, but bit his lip.
The usual Friday evening Manhattan traffic slowed them down, and there was a long line of cars waiting, fender to fender, to turn left toward the Queens Midtown Tunnel. Once they were through the tunnel, the traffic began to flow a little better along the Long Island Expressway. An hour later, they left I-495 at exit 68, stopping at their regular supermarket at Shirley to pick up provisions for the weekend. By the time they reached their house on Southampton’s Hill Street, it was dark. Brian hit the plastic fob clipped to his sun visor, and the white wooden gates began to open. As they drove in, with the gates closing behind them, neither one of them noticed the black Mercedes slowing down fifty feet away.
“Linguine okay with you?” Brian asked, unpacking the shopping bags as Amanda finished her last call. “No more calls now, please. This is supposed to be a weekend away, remember?”
“They’re all done,” she said, making sure he saw her putting the phone down on the kitchen counter. “Pasta sounds good. Shall I open the wine?”
“Let’s try some of that J. Lohr merlot we just bought. It looks good.”
Two bottles of wine later, they went upstairs to bed, leaving the cleaning up for the next day. Within fifteen minutes, they were both asleep.
“I say we go now,” Bull Neck said, ten minutes after the bedroom light went out. “It’s getting cold in here.” He rubbed his giant hands together.
“Not yet,” Glass Eye said. “Let’s head back to the coast and kill some more time.” He looked at his watch: eleven twenty. “There are still too many cars around right now.”
Bull Neck sighed then started up the engine and drove the few blocks back to the waterfront road, where they’d waited most of the evening. He found another quiet spot to park and left the engine ticking over so he could run the heater.
He reached for the radio. “I get to choose the station this time. There’s only so much of that eighties crap I can listen to.”
Glass Eye
was in no mood for an argument. He lit up a cigarette while Bull Neck found a light rock station.
Glass Eye winced at the choice of music. “What’s this?”
“Kasabian. They’re a British band.”
“I’ve heard of Linda Kasabian from Charles Manson’s little group.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” Glass Eye turned the heater off. “It’s getting stuffy in here.”
“Maybe stop smoking.” Bull Neck shook his head. “Who are these people we’ve followed out here, anyway?”
“No one you need to tax your brain cells over.”
“It helps me to know who I’m dealing with. Okay?”
“She’s an investment banker. I don’t know what he does.”
“That explains the expensive house in the Hamptons. How do these people get to make so much money without breaking the law? That’s what I don’t get.”
Glass Eye shrugged. “Beats me.”
An hour later, they returned to Hill Street, parking the car a couple of hundred yards away from the Etlings’ property. Under the cover of darkness, they slipped into the garden of a neighbor’s house. There was no car on the drive, so they figured they weren’t home. After clambering over the wooden fence, they sat at the back of the Etlings’ yard and watched the house for any sign of activity. A wind chime, hanging off one of the apple trees, made a sound as it swung in the slight breeze coming off the ocean.
The moonlight enabled Bull Neck to work his magic on the back door while Glass Eye kept watch from the deck. Once they were in, Glass Eye turned on his flashlight, and they scanned the kitchen. A faint smell of garlic hung in the air, and there were two dirty dining plates sitting in the sink and a couple of empty wine glasses on the side.
Once a Killer Page 26
