by Glenn Rogers
“Not a penny,” I said. “I gamble with my life, but not with my money.”
She held up a large box. “Package came. Neiman Marcus.”
“Neiman Marcus. Wow. From the size of the box, I’d say that’s my new sport jacket. Hanson must have decided to upgrade me from J.C. Penny.”
“They'd last longer if you didn't get shot while wearing them,” she said.
“Next time I'll ask the shooter if I can take my jacket off before he shoots me.”
“Uh-huh.”
Mildred followed me into my side of the office and sat down.
“Learn anything helpful from the witnesses?”
“I learned that there was an informant but not who it was.”
When I didn’t go on, Mildred said, “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Hardly seems worth the effort,” she said as she stood up to leave.
“That same thought occurred to me,” I said.
Mildred went back to her desk and I called Monica.
“Can you do lunch today?” I asked.
“You buying?”
“Yes.”
“Then, yes.”
“I'll order Italian, and we'll dine in my suite.”
“Does that mean we're having pizza in your office?”
“It sounded better the way I said it.”
“Uh-huh. Noon?”
“Sure. I'll see if Alex can join us.”
“Brain storming session?”
“Might be a good idea to figure out the difference between what we think and what we know.”
“And what we should do next?”
“That, too,” I said.
“Okay,” Monica said. “See you in a little while.”
Then, before we disconnected, she said, “Oh, you know what would be helpful to me?”
“What?”
“If you or Alex could send me copies of all the files. All of the people involved and of the Bureau’s investigation file you mentioned.”
“Sure. Alex has all that. I’ll have him email it to you.”
“Thanks.”
Alex said he could make it. He also asked what I learned from the witnesses. I told him the same thing I’d told Mildred. He said the same thing she said. I also asked him to send Monica copies of all the files. He said he would.
I called Papa's Pizza and ordered an extra large Pepperoni pizza and a large antipasto salad … to be delivered at noon.
“My people have put in a lot of hours,” Alex said, “on Warren, Griffin, and Hoffmeyer. I don't think we're going to find anything there.”
“Which is what we suspected would be the case,” I said. “What about Kraft and Brandt?” I asked Monica.
“I can't find anything suspicious at all about Brandt. The guy's squeaky clean. Kraft, I don't know. The money I can find is legitimate family money. I did discover something interesting, though. Several years ago, Kraft had to liquidate some of his assets. He needed a large amount of cash. Looked funny to me. So I started asking around. Turns out Kraft had been betting on horses and college basketball. Lost several big ones all within a few days and had to liquidate some assets to be able to pay.”
“That's good work, Monica,” Alex said.
“I know,” she said, smiling, obviously pleased with herself.
“What do you think it means?” I asked.
“By itself it doesn't mean anything,” she said. “He owed some money, he liquidated some assets and paid his debt. End of story. Maybe. But maybe not. If he has a gambling problem and he gets in too deep and doesn't have the cash, he's vulnerable. Maybe the mob got their hooks into him.”
“Sounds almost cliché,” Alex said. “Like something from a cheap airport paperback.”
“True,” Monica said. “But it does happen. Remember a few years ago. There was that conservative commentator. He wrote a big book about ethics and morality and then it came out that he had a huge gambling problem. What was his name?”
“William something or other,” I said.
“Yeah, that guy,” Monica said. “It does happen.”
“But there wasn’t any kind of mob connection there,” I said.
“No,” she said. “I’m just saying that a person can have a problem that can get out of hand.”
“Just because it's theoretically possible,” Alex said, “doesn't mean it's probable.”
“That's true,” I said. “But I see her point.”
“Thank you,” Monica said. “That's all I was trying to say. Otherwise, Kraft appears to be clean. Other than that gambling thing, I can't find anything.”
We were quiet for a moment, eating pizza and salad. Then I said, “Maybe our focus here is too narrow. Maybe none of the eight people who had knowledge of the operation was the informant. Maybe someone else in the office overheard a piece of a conversation and passed it on. Maybe someone got hold of a file. Maybe there was a bug somewhere and the informant was monitoring what was being planned.”
“All possibilities,” Alex said. “When you trust the people you work with, you tend let your guard down.”
“How many more suspects does that scenario generate?” Monica asked.
“Hundreds,” Alex said.
Thinking in those terms was like running into a massive concrete wall. We sat for a moment, nibbling at our food.
Then Alex said, “I think going down that road is going to lead us into an investigative black hole.”
“I agree,” I said. “I think we need a different approach.”
Chapter 40
“What do you have in mind?” Alex asked.
“Maybe we need to shake things up. See if we can't knock something loose.”
“If the fish aren't biting,” Alex said, “throw a stick of dynamite in the water?”
“Something like that,” I said.
“Kind of like you did with Pipestone?” Monica asked me.
“I underestimated him,” I said. “I hadn't anticipated how he would react.”
“And you think you can anticipate how the syndicate is going to react if you do something drastic?”
“Probably,” Alex said.
Monica looked at him.
“Pipestone was an unknown,” he said. “A loose cannon. No way to predict what he'd do. That's not the case with the syndicate. We know who we're dealing with and how they’re likely to respond, depending on what we do.”
“How they're likely to respond,” Monica said. “Doesn’t sound very precise.”
“There's an element of risk,” I said. “But if we don't get something going, we'll be sitting here having this same conversation a year from now. We have to make something happen.”
“Like what?” Alex asked.
“Whoever the informant is, is getting paid. One of the witnesses I spoke with said that one of the mob accountants will know whose being paid for what. I figure we grab one of their accountants.”
“Are you insane?” Monica asked. “You want to kidnap a syndicate accountant?”
“She's right,” Alex said. “Could be risky.”
“Thank you,” Monica said.
“Either of you have a better idea?” I asked.
Neither said anything for a moment. Then Alex said, “What would you do with him after you got him?”
“Trade him.”
“For what?” Monica asked.
“The name.”
“Of the informant?” Monica asked.
“Why not?” I asked.
Nodding, Alex said, “If the accountant talks, it would be more damaging to the syndicate than simply losing a source of information.”
Alex and I eyed each other for a moment, each of us running different scenarios through our heads.
“You guys are actually considering this, aren't you?” Monica said.
“It's audacious enough,” Alex said, “that it just might work.”
I smiled at Monica.
“It's audacious,” I said.
�
�Fine,” she said. “I'm nothing if not a team player. I'm in.”
“And you're going to play a pivotal role in the capture” I said.
She gave me one of those looks. “Let me guess,” she said, “I'm the bait, right? A little cleavage?”
“A little might not be enough,” I said. “Might require a lot of cleavage. Some leg, too, maybe.”
“Not to worry, though,” Alex said. “Jake and I will select the perfect dress for the occasion. You'll look spectacular.”
She looked from him to me and back to him. “I gonna get arrested for indecent exposure, aren't I?”
“Okay, then,” Alex said. “We have a plan. All we need now is to figure out who this person is that we're going to kidnap.”
“Doesn’t the FBI know who the mob accountants are?” Monica asked.
“They tend to be a somewhat secretive organization,” Alex said.
“Yeah, but you guys are supposed to know that kind of stuff,” she said.
“Well,” I said, “if the FBI doesn't have that kind of information on hand, we'll just have to go elsewhere.”
“Hanson?” Alex asked.
“Possible,” I said. “But I doubt it. He'll help me if it doesn't involve him compromising himself. I suspect he’ll consider giving me a mob accountant to be compromising himself. I can ask him, but I don't think he'll tell me anything.”
“So what other options do you have?” Monica asked.
“A guy Hanson already gave me. Apparently, he operates on the fringe of the mob. Talked to him a couple of nights ago. Might be able to convince him to give me a name.”
“Assuming he knows a name or can get a name,” Alex said.
“Yes, assuming that.”
We finished off the pizza and the salad and Monica asked, “So are we going to keep digging into FBI personnel, or are we done with that?”
“Are you completely satisfied that Brandt and Kraft are clean?” I asked.
“Brandt, yes,” she said. “Kraft, no.”
“Then do what you think is best,” I said. “If you think there's more to find, keep digging.”
She nodded. “I'll keep digging.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked Alex.
“I think I'm going to review the office personnel during the time we were planning the operation. I want to take a close look at everyone who was around at the time.”
“Lot of people,” I said.
He shrugged and then said, “I’ll put some of my young eager beavers on it. That leaves you to follow up with Hanson and your new friend.”
Chapter 41
It was a little after one when Alex and Monica left. It was a nice afternoon, low nineties, a soft breeze, so I decided to drive to the Eros club to see Norman Hanson. Eric buzzed me through and one of the nearly naked waitresses escorted me across the dimly lit club floor so I wouldn't bump into tables or chairs. At the top of the narrow stairway, Marvin opened the door to Norman's office and I was welcomed as if I were part of the family. I wasn't entirely comfortable with that, but it was convenient.
After putting down the small book he was reading, Kolakowski's Why Is There Something Rather Than Nothing, Norman said, “Jake Badger. Nice to see you again. What can I do for you today?”
“First, thanks for the jacket. Very nice. Something of a step up from what I usually get.”
“You’re more than welcome. Glad you like it.”
“It’s very nice. Okay, now to business… I need a referral.”
“What kind of a referral?”
“I need to talk to an accountant.”
“An accountant,” Norman said.
“Yeah. One with experience accounting for a large and diverse organization. One with expertise in moving around large amounts of money that come in from lots of different sources as well as small amounts, such as payments to individuals for services rendered.”
“And you think I'm in a position to be able to make such a recommendation to you?”
“I was hoping you might be,” I said. “Never hurts to ask.”
Norman smiled. “You're a very clever man, Jake Badger. I like you. You make me smile. And I wish I could provide you with the reference you're seeking. But in this case, I'm afraid I cannot.”
“I understand. I thought that might be the case.”
“There is someone, however, who might be able to help you. I believe we now have a mutual acquaintance named Theodor.”
Now it was my turn to smile. “I believe we do.”
“It may be that he, with proper motivation, can provide you with the reference you're seeking.”
“Theodor,” I said.
Norman nodded.
“At the disreputable establishment, Haywire.”
Another smile and nod.
“Thank you, Norman.”
As I stood to leave, Norman said, “Jake.”
I looked at him.
He said, “For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief. Ecclesiastes, one, eighteen.”
I studied him for a moment.
“I wish you well, Jake Badger.”
“Thanks, Norman,” I said, wondering, as I left, what the heck that had been.
I got to the Haywire club a little after nine that night. I hoped Theodor would be there again. He was. Theodor sat alone again, apparently enjoying the very loud, very amateurish band playing country music, making it nearly impossible to have a conversation. I ordered a Coke Zero and went and sat at his table. Theodor’s nose was still really big, mesmerizingly so. He recognized me and seemed annoyed. He'd seemed annoyed the last time I’d sat down at his table. Maybe Theodor was just not a friendly guy.
When the music stopped, I said, “How ya doing, Theodor?”
“I passed on your message, man. No one was interested.”
“Really?” I said. “Hard to believe they wouldn't be interested in knowing the identity of the person informing to the FBI about their activities ... Are you sure you delivered the message to the right person?”
“It was the right person,” Theodor said, irritated by my suggestion that he'd made a mistake.
“So you're saying no one wants to talk to me about what I know.”
“Nobody. Sometimes things just don't work out, you know?”
“No,” I said, “I don't know. Did you try to sell it? Did you tell him I was a former FBI agent and that I knew what I was talking about?”
“Yeah, man. Yeah, I did. I tried to sell it. He just wasn't having any. Okay?”
“And you told him I was ex-FBI?”
“Yeah, man. Everything. I told him.”
“And he wasn't interested.”
Theodor shook his head and turned his palms up as he shrugged.
I did my best annoyed and sulky. “I can't believe he wasn't interested,” I said.
The band began a new effort to destroy the hearing of the club patrons. I leaned over to Theodor and, raising my voice to be heard over the deafening roar, said, “I've got something else I need to talk about. Let's step outside.”
He frowned and was about to say no when I opened my coat enough for him to see the butt of my .357.
His eyes jumped from my gun to my eyes. He nodded and said, “Some fresh air might be nice.”
We stood and I motioned for him to lead the way to the door.
Once outside in the cool night air, I said, “End of the row. Black Wrangler.”
Theodor walked toward my Jeep with me a step behind. Just as we got to my Jeep he whirled around and threw a looping roundhouse punch at my head. I leaned back a few inches. The punch went on by. The momentum carried him on around, throwing his balance off. I put a hard left into his kidney. He grunted and went down. I dropped down, putting my knee in the middle of his back. I grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head back.
“That was a stupid thing to do, Theodor. I'm professional; you're an amateur. You're going to get yourself hurt.”
He lay very still.<
br />
“You understand what I’m saying to you?”
“Yeah.”
“Now, I'm going to let you up and you're going to behave yourself, aren't you?”
“Yeah,” he said again, sounding like a teenager resigned to his fate.
I let him up but kept his right arm twisted up behind him and walked him to the passenger side of my Wrangler. He got in and I went around to the driver's side and got in.
“What do you want, man,” Theodor said.
“A name.”
“A name? What name?”
“The name of the accountant who moves money around for the syndicate,” I said.
Theodor screwed up his face in a serious frown and said, “I don't know crap like that, man. I'm not on the inside. I don't know who does their accounting.”
I looked at him for a moment, my eyes boring deep into his.
“Theodor, I have it on good authority that you have the information I'm looking for. I know you know. And I also know that before we're done here, you're going to give me the name and set up a meeting with him.”
“They'll kill me.”
“If you don't tell me, I’ll kill you.”
Theodor didn't say anything.
“Theodor, you've already seen the butt of my gun. Would you like to see the barrel?”
“Hey, hey, there's no need to get violent, man.”
“Theodor,” I said. “You tried to hit me. You're the one who initiated the violence.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. I'm sorry about that. But, you know, you scared me.”
“I scared you? By asking you to come outside and talk with me?”
“Hey,” he said, “some of the people I deal with, when they say, let’s go outside and talk, sometimes you don't come back in.”
“Point taken. So I scared you.”
“Yes.”
“You still scared?”
He looked at me, unsure of my intent.
“You should be scared, Theodor. Especially if you're thinking of disappointing me.”
He sighed. “What is it you want?”
“I already told you what I want.”
“If they find out I told you, I'm a dead man.”
“I don't plan on telling anyone,” I said
“You don't plan on telling anyone?” he said.
“Theodor, I will not tell anyone where I got the information. But at this point, I don't have any information.”
