The Mongol Reply

by Benjamin M. Schutz

  “Retirement has not dulled you, Mr. Carlson.”

  Kenniston had put the burden on the two attorneys to try to settle the case as soon as Reece’s work was done. Either both parents would shuttle back and forth from an apartment to stay with the children on an alternating basis, an expensive proposition, or custody and visitation would be negotiated and possession of the marital residence would flow from that. Considering that the first available trial date was a year away, his ruling created substantial motivation to settle the case.

  Outside in the hall, the two attorneys spoke to their clients. Tom Tully scooped his son up in his arms, stormed past Serena Tully’s outstretched arms and headed for the elevator. She turned and looked helplessly at Lou Carlson.

  “Albert, what is your client doing with the child?” Carlson gave no sign that he saw the hawk-nosed man enter the elevator with Tully.

  “The order said, and I quote, ‘Mrs. Tully shall spend whatever percentage of time with the children as Doctor Reece shall deem necessary.’ Dr. Reece hasn’t deemed anything. Your client may be joint legal custodian but that doesn’t give her exclusive use of the children. Mr. Tully was taking the boy back to school. I’m sure we can agree that’s in the child’s best interests. Away from this volatile couple, who shouldn’t be under the same roof. That’s what your expert said, isn’t it?”

  “Bailing out already, Albert? He isn’t my expert. He is the court’s choice. Let’s go see Dr. Reece, right now. Get his recommendations on the time split. Kenniston wants us to settle this. That’s what his ruling was all about. The sooner you and I get to the negotiating table, the sooner this family can get on with their lives, or what’s left of them.”

  Reece, seeing them talking, walked over, forcing the issue. Garfield would have to actively avoid him. Not something Judge Kenniston would want to hear about.

  “This seems like a good time to hear my recommendation about time-sharing,” he began. “I would like Serena Tully back in the house immediately. I want her to be the primary caretaker of the children. If Mr. Tully wants to keep Ms. Hurtado during this time, that’s fine; however, her involvement in child care will be determined by Ms. Tully. Ideally, Mr. Tully would vacate the premises for the next week or so and Ms. Tully could reside in the home.”

  “I don’t see any reason for my client to vacate his home. She’s already got an apartment to stay in. Let her go back there at night. In a week, that’s where she’ll be anyway.”

  Reece started to reply when Carlson cut him off. “I think that’s okay. This is a very short-term situation. Once you’re done, we have to find interim housing until we settle this or it goes to court. May as well keep the number of moves to a minimum.”

  “Okay, but I want Ms. Tully there at eight a.m. to get Tommy off to school and she stays until bedtime for the kids, say eight p.m. Then Mr. Tully can enter the house.”

  “How do we handle the switches? You can’t leave the kids alone,” Carlson asked.

  “Maybe Ms. Hurtado will come first and leave last. That way the kids aren’t alone but the parents won’t meet in passing,” Garfield offered.

  “That’s fine with me, if she’s willing to.”

  “I’ll have my client ask her today.”

  “I’ll do my home visit in a week. Then the direct observation in my office. After the direct observations are complete, Ms. Tully will return directly to the residence and prepare to turn the children over to Mr. Tully. The access will reverse at that point, until I’m done with Mr. Tully. My report will be ready one week after I’ve completed the direct observations with Mr. Tully. Any questions? No. Fine. You’ll hear from me when my work is done.”

  Reece nodded to Serena Tully as he passed and walked down the hall to the elevator.

  Watching him walk away, Lou Carlson turned to Albert Garfield. “That was a new low today, even for you. You pulled that stunt just to try to see if you could rip his stitches. You knew it wasn’t going to work. There was no point in doing it.”

  “You should go back to teaching, Lou. You’ve lost your taste for combat. This is no place for the squeamish. Your girl hasn’t even begun to feel my heat.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Another of your ‘Mongol replies’?”

  “Who knows?” Garfield said.

  Carlson watched him saunter to the elevator, enter, turn crisply and shake his head ruefully, as if things were beyond his control, as the doors closed.

  “But where are the Mongols now, Albert?” he said to himself. “It’s still the thirteenth century in the land of the yak and the yurt.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Don Blake followed Tully’s Jeep Cherokee out of the court lot, left onto Route 123 and across Fairfax City to I-66. Tully sped up the eastbound ramp and took the interstate towards Washington. At the beltway he got off and headed north around the city. Blake followed Tully across the American Legion Bridge into Maryland, past the I-270 cutoff and up I-95 towards Baltimore.

  Forty-five minutes later, he watched Tully’s car roll slowly down an alley parallel to ‘The Block.’ Blake parked his car illegally, grabbed a video camera with a telephoto lens and sprinted to an observation point between two buildings. He ducked behind a fence as Tully got out of the car, then turned back to shout something angrily at the little boy.

  Blake adjusted the focus and followed Tully to the back entrance of a building. Tully pushed a buzzer by the door. A metal slide moved back. Blake framed Tully at the door with the address number stenciled across it. The door opened and a huge man held it open for Tully. Blake shot them shaking hands, then Tully going into the building. As the door closed, he swung back to the car and the little boy’s head.

  Blake panned to the back of the Cadillac parked next to the door and made sure he got the license plates.

  He pulled off his watch, set it in front of the camera and kept watching the door, the little boy and the minutes roll by.

  Tully slid past Carmine and walked down the hall to Vinnie’s office. He knocked on the door and was told to come in.

  Vinnie was finishing off some Osso Bucco. He was hunting for the marrow with a tiny fork. When he found it, he pulled it out and then spread it on a slice of bread.

  “The fuck’s so important you gotta see me right away, huh?”

  Tully looked at the chair and motioned to it.

  “Yeah, sit down.”

  Carmine stood by the door and quietly closed it.

  “I need some more money, Vinnie. For this court case I got. The bitch is gonna get support while this evaluation is going on.”

  “You ain’t paid off what I already loaned you. We been holding back your money, but you ain’t touched the vig.”

  “Hey, Vinnie, I’m good for it. How long have I been working for you? You haven’t had any complaints. Haven’t my tips been good? I’ve made plenty of money for you.”

  “That’s true, Tom. That’s why we’re even having this talk. How much you need this time?”

  “I don’t know. Figure a couple of thou for the bitch, another five for the lawyer if we have to go back to court, five for the new evaluator.”

  “What new evaluator? I thought we were already paying for one?”

  “That bastard. She’s probably sucking his dick, too. He fucked me over in court today. My lawyer says we’ve got to get another evaluation done. A shadow evaluation that they don’t know about, so that when this fucker’s done, if he comes out for her we can neutralize him.”

  “Sounds like a good racket, this evaluation stuff. Five grand a pop. If you don’t like the first one, buy a second. Maybe we should get into this stuff. What do you think, Carmine?”

  “Whatever you say, Vinnie.” The big man swayed from foot to foot, arms crossed in front of his enormous chest.

  Vinnie went looking for more marrow. There was never enough for him, so he had the cook put three shanks on his plate.

  “This evaluator, the one who fucked you over, what’s his name?”


  “Reece. Morgan Reece.”

  “What do we have here? Twelve grand. That’s your biggest loan, Tommy. The vig on that’s twenty-five hundred dollars a week. That’s more than you make from us. You’ll keep falling behind, Tommy. That isn’t good business. Tell you what I’m gonna do. I’ll give you the first two, for the bitch.”

  As he spoke, Vinnie reached into his desk and counted out twenty one-hundred-dollar bills.

  “The vig’s the same as before. Maybe you won’t need a new evaluation, or more legal fees. Shit happens. Sometimes you just gotta wait till it does.”

  There was a knock at the office door. Vinnie yelled, “What is it?”

  “It’s me, Jerry. I got a kid here.”

  “What the fuck? Carmine, open the door.”

  Carmine pulled the door back and a young man wearing an apron pushed Tommy into the room.

  “What the fuck is this?” Vinnie yelled, “You want to get us busted? Who brought his kid in here?”

  “Nobody, Mr. Colabucci. I went out back to put some trash out from the kitchen. The kid he was standing by the door. Before I knew it, boom, he’s past me going down the hall, yelling for his father.”

  “Tommy, come here,” Tully said and reached out for his son, who ran to him and buried his head in his father’s chest.

  “You came up here with your kid? Are you out of your fucking mind, Tom?” Vinnie was on his feet, waving his fork, spraying marrow all over the room.

  “I told him to stay in the car. How was I to know he’d do this?”

  “You fucking moron. It’s bad enough you and me gotta meet. You tell me it’s a fucking emergency. But you bring your kid, too. Who else you got in the car, Tom? Fuckin’ Sixty Minutes?”

  Vinnie was bug-eyed with rage. He caught himself and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his napkin loose and wiped his mouth. He set it down next to his plate, then put his knife and fork on the plate.

  “What’s your son’s name, Tom?”

  “Junior.”

  “Junior. Well I think I should have a little talk with Junior. Man to man. About things. Why don’t you step outside for a minute, give us a little privacy.”

  “Hey, Mr. Colabucci, I don’t think that’s …”

  Colabucci’s face was white. “That’s right, you don’t think. Now put your son down and go outside with Carmine. I ain’t gonna tell you again.”

  Tom put the boy down. “Its okay, Junior. Daddy’ll be right outside. Mr.—uh, the nice man just wants to talk with you. About things.”

  Tom stroked his hair and slowly turned the boy around. Vinnie smiled at him.

  “Put him in the chair. Pull it closer, so we can have a private little talk. Everybody else, outta here.”

  Carmine put his arm on Tully’s back and pushed him out of the room.

  “Hey, Jerry, come here, take this food away.”

  When Jerry came back in, Vinnie pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

  “Go get me one of those rabbits you got in the kitchen.”

  “One of the live ones?”

  “Yeah, and a tablecloth, and a sharp knife.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Blake turned the camera off when the boy entered the bar. Twenty minutes later the door opened. Blake aimed and began to shoot. Tom Tully came out first, his son in his arms. The boy look dazed. He’d gotten into something. There was a large dark stain all over his T-shirt. Godzilla followed him out, then another man appeared in the doorway. He jabbed a finger at Tully and his son and pulled the door closed. The muscle watched them get into their car and pull out of the alley. When they turned at the end of the block, he put a key into the lock and let himself back in.

  Blake ran to his car, tossed in the camera and went west on Baltimore Street, hoping he was parallel to Tully’s Jeep. On Greene, he saw the Cherokee heading south and fell in behind him heading back to I-95.

  Inside, Vinnie settled behind his desk and told Carmine to bring Wanda Perkins back. Two minutes later, Carmine pushed the door open and Wanda stepped in. Vinnie looked up and smiled at her. She was nice to look at, especially those soft tits with the nipples on them firm as erasers. She had beautiful hair, too. He loved stroking it while she went down on him.

  “Sit down, Wanda. Got something I want you to do.”

  Oh, no, she thought. She’d sucked this weasel off plenty when she needed a job. She had plenty of fans now. She’d just go to another club. Did Vinnie have enough juice to keep her off the block? There had to be other club owners who’d hire her just to cut into his share of the market. She smiled nervously and waited for the worst.

  “I want you to go down to Virginia for a week, maybe two. Here’s the address. Make yourself comfortable. It’s a place I keep for business. I want you to call this guy.”

  Vinnie pushed a piece of paper over to her. “He’s a shrink. Get an appointment to see him. Make it as soon as possible. Soon as you do, call me back. Here’s five hundred bucks for the first week. You stay longer, I’ll see you get more money.”

  Wanda reached for the money, counted the bills and stuck them in her garter. She frowned, waiting for the slimy part. Dealing with Vinnie was like finding an oyster sleeping in your beer.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Wanda. I’ll give this to one of the others girls in a fuckin’ heartbeat. This is a piece of cake. You just stay in the apartment, eat what you want, drink what you want, sleep in, watch the tube, use your vibrator. You see no one and you talk to no one except me. All you gotta do is see this shrink for an hour and call me. Pretty cushy for five hundred. You want your regular nut? Stay here, dance ten hours a day, six days a week. I’ll send down that Brazilian cunt you hate so much.”

  “No, no, it’s okay, Mr. Colabucci. It’s just fine. You’re right, it’s easy money.” She succeeded at looking grateful. Maybe there was a chance here. If she didn’t fuck this up, she could get other jobs from Mr. Colabucci. Get off the stage. Make more easy money. She had to keep her head. Pay attention to things, do a good job. “What should I tell this guy?” She looked at the note. “Morgan Reece. Why do I want to see him?”

  “I don’t care Wanda. Make something up. Just get an appointment fast. Don’t worry about anything else. Call me. I’ll give you more instructions. When you’re in there with him, keep your eyes open. Pay attention to the set-up, how he does things, what kind of guy he is. You understand?”

  “Yeah, Mr. Colabucci. Thanks for the job. When should I go down there?”

  “Right away. Go get dressed. When you get in, call his office and set it up. I’ll expect to hear from you by tonight. Call Carmine here at the club. He’ll get in touch with me and I’ll call you back.”

  Vinnie watched Wanda rise and had a sudden urge to throw her across the desk and fuck her. What great legs. The urge passed. Hell, Vinnie thought, he felt that way about all the girls. God, the pussy business was sweet. If only everything else was as easy. Tully was still an investment worth protecting. But how long?

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Don Blake followed Tom Tully home, where he changed his son’s shirt, and then to his son’s elementary school. Tully left there and went to the club’s training facility. Outside, Blake called his office and had Crystal come out to pick up the surveillance on Tully.

  Back at his office he called a friend in the Maryland State Police and asked him to run the Caddy’s tags. The answer came back Frutti di Mare Shellfish Company, based in Baltimore, Maryland. Then he called Sid Bowman.

  “Sid, how’s that paper chase coming?”

  “Not bad, Don. Should have it done in a few days. End of the week for sure.”

  “Can I add something to the search?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Company out of Baltimore. Frutti di Mare Shellfish Company. I want to know who the officers of the company are, also if they’re connected to other companies. A complete family tree.”

  “How soon, Don? That’s at least a day in corporate records in Baltimo
re.”

  “As soon as you can after you’ve finished with Tully’s finances.”

  “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  Blake called his Maryland connection back and arranged a late-night showing of “The Alley” with a recently retired Baltimore police detective. His last call was to Rachel Pincus, who was following Tiffany Ames. The little boy had gone to school today and Tiffany was working at a unisex hair salon.

  Blake told Rachel to stay with her and that he’d be over for the tag around four-thirty.

  None of the other operatives had filed reports yet, so he had no idea whether they had been successful in placing Tom Tully and Tiffany Ames in any local motels or at training camp. By four o’clock nothing had changed and he left the office.

  Blake pulled up behind Rachel’s car, walked over and let himself in.

  “Who’s inside?”

  “Just the Ames woman. Last customer left a few minutes ago. Shop closes at five. I don’t think anybody else would be scheduled this late in the day. There were only two stylists in the shop. Ames and an Oriental woman. She left about an hour ago.”

  “So, what do you think? Take a little off the top?” Blake asked as he slid out. “Turn your motor on. She may come out in a real hurry.”

  Blake strolled across the street, pushed open the door and listened to the bell affixed to the frame announce him. Tiffany Ames was kneeling between two chairs sweeping up the last of the day’s hair.

  “Just a second. Be right with you,” she said without looking up.

  Blake walked towards her, deeper into the shop. Away from the sidewalk and the windows. Tiffany felt him before she saw his shadow.

  She spun around, lost her balance and fell backwards between the chairs, up against a chest of drawers.

  “What do you want?” she asked, sure that there was no answer she’d like.