While taking notes, Agent Phillips interrupted him, “Wait a minute. Did I hear that right? The fourth large oak tree in from the street has a security panel hidden in the bark exactly five feet up from the front exposed root? Are you serious?” Nick laughed. It did sound ridiculous hearing it out loud and Phillip’s expression was priceless.
“It’s kind of James Bond, isn’t it? I got it from some CIA tech nerds. A full camera system runs through the trees, but squirrels are an issue. Seems they like to make videos. That first panel only controls the driveway and a perimeter warning system. Once you get in the house to activate the primary system, it will trigger the perimeter system to reset. Call me when you get there if you have questions.”
Phillips shook his head, “Expect a call. That’s all I need is to blow us up. Are the utilities working? Should I have men pick up supplies?”
Nick answered, “Someone should get food and general supplies. The entire 80 acre camp is self-sustained. Generator, a deep well, a couple of ATVs in the garage, and an old pickup truck. The house is all modern. I think it’s the only thing that my dad has spent money on all of these years. There’s a satellite dish that is programmed to government and civilian bands.” Nick smiled, “It brings in the entertainment channels. You can watch soaps.”
Phillips grinned, “I won’t be there. We have special people for that type of duty. They’ve had all the Rambo training, like you. I’ll be leaving as soon as our interviews are done. I’m more interested in digging into those files.”
* * *
Artie had just arrived at Frankie’s apartment. He was surprised Frankie wasn’t there. It was already dark outside. Artie’s cell phone began ringing and he struggled to find the right button to receive his call. The call was from an old buddy still active in Dom’s crew.
“Hey, just wanted to let you know somebody just popped Tommy Albergo, not 30 minutes ago. That makes two, countin’ Carson, been shot right out of the joint. You’d better watch your back. What’s going down?”
Artie assured his friend he had no idea and hung up. It was a most troubling call. Now it was just Anthony and he left. Who would be doing this? Once again, Artie wondered about Frankie being gone after dark. Artie had heard the rumors that Frankie had been Dom’s favorite hit man. Was that why Dom wanted him living here?
Frankie opened the apartment door and grunted a greeting. He had purchased a top notch lock and installed it at the storage unit. His arthritis in his knees was screaming in pain. Seeing Artie just reminded him that his head would still be in his freezer if it wasn’t for his guest. Artie watched as Frankie removed a pistol from his coat pocket and laid it on the coffee table. Frankie walked to the kitchen and poured himself a short scotch. He grabbed a shoe box from on top of the refrigerator and declared his gun needed cleaning.
Artie decided it was a good night to find a different place to live.
* * *
Joey Lacastra winced as Dom’s doctor dug in his leg for Nick’s bullet. Dom watched from his leather chair as he sipped his scotch and twirled a pen in his hand. The longer Joey watched Dom, the more repulsive Dom looked. Joey was furious that he had been hired to hit someone under the watchful eye of the FBI. Now the Feds would be after him.
His status with the Gambino family was compromised now, too. They wouldn’t want FBI heat either. His only salvation would be to do the impossible: hit this Cummings guy before he could testify. Joey had to find out what this guy was going to testify about, before he could figure out who would benefit the most from his death.
Joey asked Dom. “What’s this guy got that the FBI wants?”
Dom considered not answering, it wasn’t any of Lacastra’s business, but the scotch was taking over his judgment. “Cummings does books for the entire Chicago Outfit. Our skim, gambling, everything we do. He has the ‘real’ books on collections. It’s my job to keep him in line.” Dom finished his drink and poured more.
Joey’s mind swarmed. There are four crews in the Chicago Outfit. The Outfit had barely recovered from the Family Secrets trial of Frank Calabrese Sr. in the summer of 2007. If he could deliver the hit of Cummings to the Outfit before any trials, he could name his price.
Joey was sure the Outfit boss would be as displeased with Dom as he was. Dom should have known there was a problem with Cummings sooner. Key people are supposed to be on a short leash. Joey glanced around the room. None of the security he would have expected was there. Dom was old school. He thought his goons and his reputation were enough to keep him safe. Joey considered his choices. This might be his best opportunity to level some justice for the Outfit boss on Dom. If all goes well, he’ll be talking to his new boss in the morning.
The doctor finished the last stitch on Joey’s leg, gave him some pills for the pain and walked over to bid farewell to Dom. Joey pulled his pistol from his waistband, attached the silencer and shot the doctor in the back of the head. The doctor fell across the desk, his blank eyes staring at Dom. Dom’s shocked expression made Joey chuckle.
“You made a mistake setting me up with the Feds.”
Joey shot Dom twice in the heart.
Dom’s two house guards proved to be worthless. They assumed Joey was no threat since he had passed through the guard at the gate and Dom had granted him entry. Joey popped them as he exited Dom’s sitting room. They simply slid down the walls of the foyer. Neither of them even had time to draw their weapons.
It was even easier outside. He just shot each guard as they approached his car. The silencer kept the noise to a minimum. Joey’s headlights steadily advanced toward the estate’s main gate. The massacre behind him was hidden in the black of the night. The guard at the gate leaned toward Joey’s window to clear him. Joey noticed him glancing back for the escort guard.
Joey put his hand out the window, his pistol aimed at the guard’s head. “They’re all dead. If you want to die, try to stop me.” The guard put his palms up and stepped backwards.
Joey pulled away from the estate and headed for his hotel in the city. In the morning he was either going to be a hero or a dead man.
* * *
Lacey was curled on the couch as she listened to Kamber beg for permission to do the homeless experiment in her townhouse. Kamber explained they had already had their showers in the street van, picked up Chad’s clothes, and now needed to dry their towels by dancing. Lacey almost burst out laughing at Kamber’s appearance. She wore a knit cap with leather flaps that covered her ears, mittens, three layers of clothes, and boots. Her hair was stringy and wet and her makeup was streaked. Chad also wore three layers of clothing and was holding a bucket.
Lacey pulled an afghan up around her shoulders. “Do you have a window open in your room? It’s freezing in here.”
Kamber’s eyes opened wide, “Sorry! I’ll go shut my door. We have to sleep in the cold. Please say we can, Lacey. This is going to be the best documentary ever!” Kamber raced from the room to shut her door.
Lacey asked Chad, “I’m not sure I want to know, but what’s the bucket for?”
Chad made a sour face. “It’s our toilet.”
Kamber returned to the living room. “I also put newspapers over the mirror in my room.”
Lacey shook her head and smiled. “Of course you did. Does your experiment allow you to eat spaghetti?”
Chad and Kamber smiled at each other, the aroma of the spaghetti was inviting, and then they both frowned. Chad answered, “I don’t think so. We have two oranges.”
Kamber asked, “So, we can do it? It’s okay?”
Lacey nodded her head. “Your mother is going to kill me for letting you have a boy here all night.”
Chad blushed.
Kamber said, “You don’t have to worry about Chad. We’re just going to sleep together.”
Lacey’s eyebrows went up and Kamber started laughing. Chad spread his hand over both his eyes.
Kamber said, “We have to dry our towels before they get moldy. Can we turn on your sound system?”
Five minutes into watching Chad and Kamber dancing with their towels, Lacey thought she heard her door buzzer. She opened the door to Nick, gave him a kiss and pointed to the living room.
“Well, there she is: my niece, Kamber.”
Nick tried to figure out if Chad and Kamber were having a towel fight or dancing. Both of them were dressed strangely. He tried not to chuckle.
Nick asked Lacey, “Do these tendencies run in your family?”
Kamber suddenly stopped dancing and stared at Nick. He was so good looking her mind went blank. Nick smiled at her and she realized what she must look like. She wanted to run to her room and hide. Instead, she reached over and shut off the music.
Lacey held Nick’s hand and walked him to the kitchen counter. “You’re just in time for spaghetti. Our homeless guests can’t have any, they have oranges.” Lacey smiled at Kamber’s expression.
Chad and Kamber each sat on the counter stools across from Nick. Chad knew that Nick was some sort of cop and Kamber knew that he worked in homicide. Nick draped his jacket over the back of the stool and said to Lacey, “Spaghetti sounds great, I’m starving. I can’t stay long, tomorrow is going to start early.” Nick smiled at Chad and Kamber, “I’m glad you two are still up. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. So, you’re both in my dad’s class?”
Chad nodded, “He is the best professor at the University! He suggested that we partner up on this documentary. Lacey hooked us up with Mitch at the sandwich shop and he got us an interview with Joseph in the tunnel.”
Kamber couldn’t stop staring at Nick and wishing she could run to the bathroom, blow-dry her hair and fix her makeup. Lacey noticed Kamber’s glazed over look. She often felt that way around Nick when they first started dating. Now she found his other qualities overshadowed his good looks. Nick seemed totally oblivious to Kamber’s loving stare.
Nick said, “I brought you each a canister of pepper spray. The department hands them out to the homeless. If something does happen, this will give you time to run. You have to stay alert and aware of your surroundings. The homeless are often victims of violence.”
Kamber spoke. “Oh, we know. Joseph told us that most of them had to stay awake at night and keep moving or they would be attacked.”
Nick looked at Lacey, “I hope I’m not out of line, but I brought something else I think they need.” Nick pulled a leather case from his breast pocket and unzipped it. There was a strange type of tool and three tiny metal squares.
Lacey nodded. “I thought about asking you to bring those but I didn’t want to cause you any hassle with the department.”
Chad leaned in to get a closer look. “What the heck are they?”
Nick answered, “GPS locators. I want to install these in your watches.”
Chad looked puzzled. “But we’re going to be in tunnels. They probably won’t work.”
Nick smiled, “These are CIA. They can locate you within a 50 foot radius through concrete, iron, or water. You can watch a man move in a submerged submarine from a helicopter. They track from a government band and are practically indestructible. When you want to remove them, it’s a simple procedure.” Nick installed the GPS devices in each of their watches. He then installed an app on their phones to show them that they were activated.
Nick left the third chip on the counter. “This is an extra chip in case one of you has your watch stolen. If you get separated from each other, this will help.” Nick looked at Lacey, “You should keep this extra chip somewhere safe, maybe your jewelry box? Never hurts to be prepared.” Nick leaned over and kissed her.
Nick ate two plates of spaghetti and visited with Lacey while Chad and Kamber finished their towel dance and discussed their plans to interview street people later.
Nick and Chad made a list of neighborhoods they should stay away from, and Nick walked over and kissed Kamber’s cheek. “I have to leave. Lacey will give you my number if you need me.”
Nick shook Chad’s hand and said, “You’ve got your hands full, buddy.”
Chad lowered his voice, “Don’t I know it.”
CHAPTER 16
Wednesday 9:00 p.m.
Jake Billow parked his van down the street from Lacey’s townhouse. Not long after arriving he saw Nick walk from Lacey’s front door to a Harley parked at the curb. He watched as Nick rode away. The powerful roar of the engine echoed in the near empty street. Billow hated cops. He thought all cops were arrogant. Especially cops like Nick. Billow waited a moment and then pulled from the curb to follow Nick. Just as his van was directly in front of Lacey’s townhouse, two young people came out of her door. Billow eased back to the curb to watch. The young couple walked down the street and disappeared into the darkness.
Lacey was home alone. He turned his van around to park on Lacey’s side of the street. It was exciting to be this close to Nick’s ‘significant other’. Something caught his eye in his peripheral vision. There it was again. The corner of a curtain waved out an open window. Billow looked up and down the street. It was quiet. There was no sign of the young couple coming back.
He walked to the back of the van, reached in and grabbed a roll of duct tape and a steel rod. He crossed the street quickly and stood outside the window listening. There was a bed under the window and the door was closed. At the bottom of the door a band of light suddenly got brighter. Lacey had turned on a light closer to this room.
Billow lifted himself through the window and listened at the door. He heard noises in the distance, kitchen noises. Lacey put the leftover spaghetti in the refrigerator and rinsed the plates for the dishwasher. She wiped the island countertop and dropped the extra GPS chip into her jean pocket. A sudden rush of cold air sent a chill up her spine. Kamber’s door must have blown open. Lacey turned from the sink to see a man standing behind her, his arms raised above his head, his eyes crazed. A metal rod came crashing toward her.
Billow watched as blood ran from Lacey’s forehead onto her nose, trailed across her pretty lips to drip steadily on the white marble floor. Billow injected her with Rohypnol, wrapped her wrists in duct tape and carried her to the back of his van. Once Lacey was secured with rope, Billow pulled from the curb and drove toward his apartment.
At a stop light Billow looked through a small window to the back of the van. Lacey was in a fetal position, duct tape on her wrists and mouth, unconscious from the drug. An involuntary giggle escaped his lips. He felt electrified.
The light changed to green and he could hardly keep from speeding home. He couldn’t stop giggling. This was just like the good old days when every cop in Chicago worried they would be his next target. The rush of excitement was intoxicating. He wondered if he had time to kill a couple of cops tonight, too.
* * *
Kamber and Chad returned to Lacey’s after about an hour of interviewing people they met on the street. Many of the homeless were glad to tell their story on camera. Some admitted to having problems with drugs and alcohol. Many were victims of circumstance. What they all had in common was little hope for the future. Kamber traded boots with a young woman and Chad traded boots with an old man. By the time they were back in Lacey’s neighborhood, they were both exhausted.
Chad said, “The hardest part of this documentary is going to be the editing. These are powerful stories. I wish it wasn’t limited to 15 minutes.” Chad stared at Lacey’s front door and sighed, “I also wish I was going to take a hot shower and crash on a soft mattress.”
Kamber twisted her mouth, “Oh, yeah. I guess it’s the floor tonight. Can you believe how cold it is outside? This is hard work being homeless and we’re just pretending!”
Kamber opened the townhouse door and looked around. She put her finger over her lips to signal quiet. Lacey must have gone to bed, because her bedroom door was closed and the townhouse was quiet. Chad and Kamber tiptoed to Kamber’s room, closed the door, and went to sleep.
* * *
Momma had just finished her shower and put her nightgown on when her
cell phone rang. The caller ID said Artie Corsone. Momma was surprised that Artie was calling at that hour.
She answered, “Hello, dear. What has you callin’ so late?”
Artie took a moment to gather his courage, “I was wondering if I might sleep on your couch this evening? I will be looking for an apartment tomorrow; but this evening I seem too tired to bother.”
Momma was surprised by the request. “Artie, my love, there’s no reason to explain a thing. My couch makes into a comfortable bed. I’ll get it ready for you. When will you be here?”
“I’m at the door to the sandwich shop right now.”
Momma chuckled and told him she’d be there in a minute. She dashed to her room to get a nice robe and slippers. She fluffed her hair on the way down the stairs and held the door open for Artie.
“I am so sorry to trouble you so late in the evening.” Artie was pulling his bags behind him. Momma took the smaller of the two bags and pointed to the back.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout the time. It’s only ten o’clock for heaven’s sake!”
Artie looked out the picture window of the store. “It gets dark so early it throws me off.”
Momma giggled, “Me, too! When you called, I must have dozed off in my chair. I thought it was midnight!”
Once settled upstairs, Artie told Momma about his troubling call about Tommy Albergo getting shot. Momma had just brought Artie a cup of tea. Artie slowly stirred the tea bag in the hot water and said, “Four of us were released this week from prison and already two of us are dead.” Artie felt comfortable talking to Momma. She knew the score on the Westside crew and she certainly knew Artie wasn’t an angel. “You know Dominick arranged for me to stay with Frankie Mullen until a suitable apartment could be located.”
Momma’s eyes opened wide. “I wouldn’t close my eyes with that man around. Frankie Mullen is a smart, old fart. Never got caught for nothin’. Some people think he was Dom’s secret hit man.” Momma was rocking up a storm in her chair.
Twisted: Nick Stryker Series, Book Two The Shallow End Gals Page 13
