"I'll cancel Jill's reservation for her suite at the Plaza, and the suites we reserved for the rest of the floor, as well as the airline tickets for the two of you and the suite at the Marriott Marquis for tonight,” Marilyn said.
"Don't cancel Jill's reservation. I want French to go to the trouble and expense of wiring the rooms. I'll have Jill call him in the morning to cancel the meet with Perini. You cancel the other rooms in the Plaza we reserved, but don't cancel my ticket or the suite at the Marriott. I still plan to fly to New York this evening after Jill is admitted to the hospital and I know Plan B is working as anticipated."
Marilyn nodded, which forced her to brush a strand of her straight blond hair from her lively blue eyes. She glanced up at me with a disappointed expression. I, too, felt disappointed and wondered why, until I realized I would miss her soft, feminine form sleeping in my arms tonight. Strange, I thought. I just fucked Jill, but when I look at Marilyn, desire seeps in and spreads. I shook my head so I could concentrate and turned to Vera.
"I might need a large amount of cash to make a drug buy, Vera. Will that be a problem?"
"That depends on the amount, Martin,” she said as if asking a question.
"At this juncture, I have no idea, but it could go as high as a half-million."
I heard a gasp behind me. I turned and Jill stood with her hand over her mouth.
"You can't spend that kind of money on me, Martin Crowe. I won't allow it!” she said forcefully.
"Your permission, your opinion is not relevant! What I spend on this operation is my business, not yours!” I said in a loud, angry voice.
"But..."
"Careful, Jill,” Marilyn warned. “Martin is correct. He makes the decisions. He decides how much needs to be spent to make the project successful."
Vera rose, put her motherly arm around Jill, and turned her from the room. “Come with me, child, and I'll explain it to you,” she said.
I sat and slumped in Vera's vacated chair. My face felt hot, caused by my sudden temper burst, and my hands shook slightly.
Christie entered the room. “Are you okay, Uncle M?” she asked with her little-girl voice when she saw me.
The sight of my pretty niece flushed my anger away and I smiled. “Yes, Sweetheart. How are you doing with your calls?"
She climbed onto my lap and hugged me. “Talking with those kids made me feel sad. We have to stop French; somehow we have to stop him, Uncle M."
"I agree. That's why we are all working so hard."
Most of the discarded kids now lived on the street or in groups in cheap dives, but all of them on our list had cell phones. They either sold drugs, prostituted themselves, or both. The phones were important for their survival, so the kids had assumed the expense of the calls when French cut them off. We were able to acquire the cell phone numbers because French had originally supplied the phones to the kids, and the numbers were a matter of record in French's name. Robert had some operatives call each of the cancelled numbers and pretend to be an employee of the wireless service the phones used. In that manner, we were able to put together a name with a phone number. They were also able to determine which users of the service were kids, and during the conversation verified the fact that they knew French. We certainly didn't have a complete list of the children used and tossed to the street by French and Able, but we could contact those with cell phones.
"Were you able to classify the kids you've talked with so far?” I asked Christie.
"Yes, ah, no—not all of them. I had to put one of them in the unsure column. I used a different name for each person I talked with, and even altered my voice. Unbelievably, a couple of them still adore the man. He must have conditioned them like Pavlov's dog. And even though he no longer uses them, most of them keep in touch with him, so my conversations will probably get back to him. Is that all right?"
"Yes, I have no doubt you did a marvelous job."
"I came in to ask a question."
"Ask away, Sweetheart."
"I think the kids would talk more freely with me if I could say something about the man, even if it's just a rumor."
I thought a moment. “First let me ask you a question. Which type of kid is the easiest to classify?"
She bit her lip and said, “Probably the ones still for him. I don't start my conversation with any negative comments until I can get a feel for the attitude of the kid I'm calling."
"Okay, do this. When you determine that a boy or girl is for him, tell them you heard that French is a good source for Ecstasy. Do you know about Ecstasy?"
She nodded. “Kids my age know all about the drugs being used, Uncle M. Druggies use Ecstasy so they can dance all night. And the drug gives them hallucinations, especially if bright lights are waved in front of their eyes. I can't understand why anyone uses any kind of drug, except those prescribed by doctors, but Ecstasy is one of the dumber ones."
Jeez, I thought, she knows more about the drug than I do.
"Remember, only use the rumor with those that are for him."
She hugged me again, gave me a quick kiss, and hopped down.
"Okay. Thanks for the hug, Uncle M. I needed it."
When she was out of sight, I turned to Marilyn. “I love that little girl to pieces, as if she were my own."
Marilyn's smile was radiant. “No kidding. You could have fooled me?” she said, teasing. “Now, go find Jill and make things right again between the two of you."
I nodded. “I was a little rough."
"Very rough would be a better description."
I rose grudgingly. I felt comfortable with Marilyn. She never gave me problems, only solved them. As I walked by her, I had a sudden urge to kiss her. I bent, took her chin in my hand, looked into bright blue eyes, and kissed her, a kiss of appreciation sprinkled with a little love.
"You are becoming very important to me, Marilyn Chase,” I said and kissed her again. When I pulled back, her eyes were shining.
"Me, too, you,” she said and her expression softened. “Be careful what you say, Martin. I take you very seriously; so don't ever say something you don't seriously mean. Now, shoo. I've work to do, and you have a wounded heart to patch."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Sixteen
Vera and Jill sat facing each other at the table outside on the patio. I pushed open the French door and they both turned in my direction. Jill jumped up and ran to me. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, not to arouse, but to show her appreciation, similar to the kiss I had just given Marilyn.
"I'm sorry, Martin. Please forgive me for being so pigheaded."
"No, I owe you the apology. I lost my temper and I wasn't very nice. If you can forgive me, let's just forget about it."
"But..."
"Damn it, woman,” I said with a smile. “Just accept my apology, please."
"Apology accepted.” She kissed me again.
Vera, the earth mother, smiled happily, pleased her chicks had kissed and made up.
"How rich are you?” Jill asked. “I'm not trying to be nosy, but it would help explain why you're so generous."
"I don't know. Vera could tell you better than I, but the amount doesn't matter a wit. Money is..."
"I know. Money is just money. You're an unusual man, Martin Crowe. And I'm just beginning to appreciate and understand what makes you so unusual."
No Jill, I thought. You will never understand my concept of money and living. Of course, Jill's attitude about money was closer to the norm; the renegade concepts were mine, so I vowed to be more accepting, more tolerant when we clashed again, which I now considered inevitable.
At four o'clock that afternoon, I gathered the team in the great room so everyone could bring everyone else up to date. I put Robert on the speakerphone so he could give and receive input like the rest of us.
"Ruth,” I said. “Let's start with you."
"It was an interesting day, Martin. I called the magazine editors and modeling agencies. Roy handl
ed the personal services vendors. I'll let him report on his results. The magazine editors were fun. I told one of them about a fabulous new model French had discovered and promised layouts would be sent today, Monday at the latest. I complained loudly to another editor about how poorly French believed she had treated him. She finally hung up on me. The modeling agencies gave me some new ideas. I ordered five models from one agency for a shoot French had scheduled tomorrow and agreed to pay double the going rate because of the short notice. I complained to another about the quality of models the agency had provided. Another agency grumbled that he had not remitted payment for a previous invoice. I told that agency to sue because French had no intention of paying them. Like I said, interesting."
"An excellent start, Ruth. Roy, you're next, and then Robert will tell us French's reactions to the changes we made to his original conditions and systems. Roy, I understand you had some fun fluttering wings today."
He nodded his large head and smiled broadly. “When I called French's tailor, I discovered the tailor already had an order. I doubled it and promised a check in the mail. Five restaurants have dinner reservations in his name for seven this evening. Another already had a reservation. I changed the time. A garage is picking up his car for repairs early in the morning with a tow truck. I complained to his drycleaner, even used foul language. The woman told me to take his business elsewhere. I cancelled his workouts with his personal trainer for the next thirty days, told the woman he was going out of he country. She complained and told me to tell him he would have to pay her anyway. I laughed at her, and told her to get in line. If she wanted her money, she would have to sue him like everybody else."
Robert's booming laugh came over the speaker. “Good job, guys and gals. So far, very few of the calls have filtered back to French, but those that have have infuriated him. He fired his secretary, Ruth. He didn't believe her when she denied calling an editor. It was the editor you told how poorly French believed she had treated him, the one who hung up on you. The editor called him personally to verify his attitude. Roy, French stopped by his drycleaners to pick up some clothes, and the owner told him to take his business elsewhere without explanation. We know what happened because he expounded loudly about the drycleaners’ un-businesslike attitude when he returned to his office. I suspect more of our efforts will filter back to him tomorrow, but not much, as planned, because of the weekend."
"It sounds like a good first day, everyone,” I said. “Tomorrow, because of the weekend, instead of making more calls, we'll create invoices for services French didn't perform and send them in one envelope to Robert. He'll cause them to be mailed from the post office normally used by French's business. Marilyn has created a digital invoice and envelope we can print from a computer. That's why that new printer was delivered, today, Ruth. The invoices will look identical to those French uses. Robert's operatives have provided names and addresses of companies and individuals French does business with. The invoices we create will appear authentic."
I turned to my niece. “Christie, can you help by stuffing envelopes—whatever your mother and Roy need?” She nodded eagerly, so I continued. “On Monday, we'll go back to the vendor and personal services calls. I suggest you and Roy switch lists, Ruth. You call the balance of the personal services not called by Roy, and he can do the same with the editors and agencies."
Ruth nodded. “We had already planned the switch, Martin."
"Good, that means you understand the concept, and I don't need to manage it anymore. Run with it, Ruth. Just come to me, or if I'm not available, to Marilyn, if you have a question or run into a problem. After all the calls have been made, we'll watch and listen to see what happens. Then make additional calls to the same lists to adjust the results. The goal is to remain anonymous. The changes can be small like a change in a reservation, Roy. Try not to get too heavy-handed at first. Christie, what is the status of your list?"
She looked at her columned pad. “Five for the man; four neutral; six against him, and three I couldn't figure out. I haven't talked to nine of them."
"Good job! Do you think you can finish the list by Monday?"
"Yes, if they answer their phones. I told two of the kids that I heard French was dealing Ecstasy, and they got very excited. They'll go to him about it. They want to deal for him. Is that a problem?"
"Not if they are for him. If you tell a kid who is against him, they might go to the authorities to rat him out prematurely. That's why we want to isolate the kids against him. We don't want them to cause trouble before we destroy the negatives and photographs and the bad guys are arrested. After Able and French are arrested, we will urge them to go to the authorities with their stories, but not before."
"I understand, Uncle M."
"Good girl. Marilyn, do you have anything to add?"
"As usual, Vera and I are struggling, trying to maintain some semblance of control over disbursements. Work with us as closely as possible, Robert. You, too, Martin. I'm not complaining, but it's easy to lose control."
"I'll try,” Robert said.
I laughed. “I'm the culprit, Robert, not you,” I said. “She's talking about Plan B. Plan B starts in an hour and she doesn't have a clue what it will cost and who gets paid, and what equipment and supplies will be purchased. If you were running Plan B, she wouldn't have a problem, Robert."
Robert's booming laugh reverberated. “I understand your concern, Marilyn. Hang on tight and do the best you can. That's what I do."
"Marilyn, I'll have Doc Hanley get in touch with you tomorrow and give you a full accounting. The greedy cuss will make me bleed, but I love him. If I weren't a mathematician, I think I'd join Doc in his profession. The man has more fun working than anyone I know."
"Who are kidding, Martin?” Marilyn asked with a mischievous grin. “Half your operations are essentially cons, long ones, too."
Chuckles sprinkled the room. Robert provided a belly laugh. I ignored them.
"Robert,” I continued, “I want you to start planning an insertion into French's studio, a full dress rehearsal, if you will, except the safe won't be opened. I do, however, want all personnel who will be involved in the final break-in included in the insertion. I want to make certain we can successfully circumvent the alarm system and give our safecracker time to study the safe. Let's take a look at the data in his computers and the files in the filing cabinets. Make it a combination dress rehearsal and intelligence gathering exercise. I'll be in New York tonight and we'll discuss it some more. I know the status of the bugs and surveillance teams, Robert, but this would be a good opportunity to bring everyone up to date."
"Okay, Boss. We have French covered with surveillance 24/7, and his home, the studio and his car are wired for sound and the bugs are monitored 24/7. Able will be wired by noon tomorrow, and surveillance will be 24/7 by Monday. Marilyn, daily reports from surveillance should start arriving via email tomorrow, along with edited transcripts from the bugs to help you with your calculations. Martin, I don't think we can wire Perini. He checks for wires daily, and surveillance would be exposed within days.” The fat man chuckled. I could see his extra chins rolling in my mind. “We'd be competing with the Feds if we tried to tail him, and they have much better bugging equipment than we do. Able's dossier should be complete by Monday. Perini's by Wednesday."
"Robert,” Marilyn interrupted, “Information about the attitudes of French's vendors and personal services would help in our calculations of the results of our wing fluttering."
"Good point,” Robert said. “What do you suggest, Boss?"
"The critical systems will be the editors, models and agencies. Hire some operatives to visit the magazines and agencies in business capacities like salesmen, advertising agencies, catalog houses, whatever. Have them ask discreet and indirect questions about French. And listen. It always amazes me what simple eavesdropping accomplishes. Also some of the major vendors might deserve a bug or two. Ruth and Marilyn can advise you accordingly."
"You'
ve got it, Boss. Good idea, Marilyn. Oh, by the way, Boss, a white paper on Ecstasy is in Marilyn's email inbox. The major manufacturing center is Amsterdam. For the volume you'll need to put Able and French away, it might pay for me to take a trip to Amsterdam. However, we have isolated a source for the drug in Brooklyn."
"Will we make the same sort of calls to Able's vendors as we are doing with French's?” Ruth asked.
"Yes,” I replied, “and after I review the dossier, I anticipate we can make calls that affect Able's illegal business, something we couldn't do with French. I'm biting at the bit to start that wing fluttering. We'll do the same for Perini. Marilyn, we'll need more callers for Ruth's butterfly team. Review my friends’ list and select two new callers to start next week, callers you've worked with before. Discuss your selections with Ruth."
"Thanks, Martin,” Ruth said. “I could see Roy and me getting behind."
"Ruth, if you ever need more help, holler,” I said and hesitated. My next subject could prove troublesome, but I couldn't in good conscience put it off any longer. “Robert, frankly I don't want any more children added to French's stable from this point on. Do you have a handle on his recruitment methods yet?"
"No, we were concentrating on Plan A, but now that's in the shitter, I'll get right on it. I agree with you. The kids are more important than anything, except the client."
The Butterfly Effect Page 10
