The Payback Game

by Nathan Gottlieb

  The crack op walked into the shop, stayed for a couple minutes, then came back to the car.

  “What’d you see?” Wallachi asked.

  “A lot of tools and shit.”

  Wallachi shook his head. “Do you think you can summon all your brain cells to work together and be a little more specific? Like, how many vehicles were being worked on? And what were they?”

  “Uh…there were…three vehicles. Yeah, three. A…a pickup truck that I think was a Chevy. Its rear end was mangled. There was, uh, a Honda Accord. Yup. Its driver’s side door was caved in. And the last one was a SUV with a dented hood.”

  That caught Boff’s interest. “What kind of SUV?” he asked.

  “I didn’t catch the make,” Manny replied. “Only thing that did catch my eye was that the vehicle had a sign painted on the side.”

  “Which said…?”

  Manny closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, apparently trying to picture the SUV. Then, with a note of triumph: “Sonlight Christian Reformed Church. Spelled S-O-N. Kinda weird, if you ask me.”

  “We didn’t,” said Wallachi.

  At the same time, Boff asked, “What kind of plates?”

  “Uh…New York. I didn’t have time to get the numbers because the mechanic came back out of his office.”

  Boff kept after him. “What color was the SUV?”

  “Dark blue.”

  Wallachi interjected, “You sure it wasn’t white?”

  “Duh. Pete, no matter what you think of my investigative skills, I can actually tell the difference between blue and white.”

  Boff pointed to Cullen. “Go inside and ask where the nearest gas station is. While you’re there, get the plate number of the SUV.”

  Cullen did as instructed. When he returned to the car he told Boff the number. Boff called Damiano and put it on speaker.

  “Can you run a New York plate for me?” he asked. “BVJ-five-one-five-one. I’ll hang on the line.”

  In a few minutes, the detective came back.

  It belongs to a Sonlight Christian Reformed Church in an upstate town called Massena.

  “Thanks.” Boff disconnected, then turned back to Manny. “Use your BlackBerry and see if there’s a Sonlight Christian Reformed church in Massena, New York. If there is, what’s its address and phone number?”

  Manny started typing. In a few minutes he said, “Yup. There’s one with that name in Massena. Located on 182 Fayette Road.”

  As Boff wrote the address down, he said, “What’s the phone number?”

  “Uh, doesn’t have one.”

  Boff looked at Wallachi. “Pete, can you think of a reason why a church wouldn’t have a phone?”

  Wallachi shook his head. “Could be unlisted. Although I can’t see why a church would do that. Maybe it’s just one of those weird Christian sects that don’t believe in modern technology.”

  “An SUV is modern technology.”

  Hannah said, “Maybe there’s no such church.”

  Boff nodded. “The address could certainly be an abandoned house or a store, although I’m not going to make that conclusion yet. The only things we can say for certain are that the SUV is suspicious and Galvani was in the shop. That doesn’t mean we can connect him to the vehicle, but it does raise a red flag for me.”

  “Maybe,” Hannah said, “this is the SUV they use for the raids. And it got dented.”

  “It isn’t,” Boff replied. “Number one, it’s the wrong color. And two, those aren’t the plate numbers on Laterza’s SUV.”

  “So the plates are stolen,” Hannah said.

  Boff shook his head. “You can’t register stolen plates.”

  “Let’s worry about the SUV later,” Wallachi said. “Here comes Galvani.”

  Instead of returning to the body shop, Galvani got in his car and drove away.

  Boff looked at Wallachi. “Can you get another op to watch this shop until it closes? I want to know who picks the SUV up. If nobody does today, have your man stake out the shop first thing in the morning.”

  “No problem.”

  While Wallachi tailed Galvani to Crown Heights, he pulled one of his ops off another job and assigned him to the body shop. “Louie,” he said, “I want you to watch the place and see if someone picks up a dark blue SUV, license plate BVJ-five-one-five-one. Written on the vehicle’s side panel is ‘Sonlight Christian Reformed Church.’ If nobody picks it up today, be there early in the morning and wait. I want you to follow the SUV when it leaves the shop and tell me where it goes.”

  Galvani went straight home and disappeared inside his building. Twenty minutes later, he was still inside when one of Wallachi’s ops who was following the longshoremen, called. Laterza’s Beamer is on the move. Monetti is with him.

  “Stay on it, Jerry.”

  Ten minutes later, Jerry called again.

  He’s in Crown Heights. On Brooklyn Avenue.

  “Thanks.” Wallachi closed his phone and turned to Boff. “It looks like the longshoremen are heading our way.”

  Five minutes later, Laterza’s Beamer pulled up and double parked in front of Galvani’s building. When the detective left his building and got in the backseat of the Beamer, Laterza took off.

  “Frank, they could be going on a raid,” Wallachi said.

  “Maybe.”

  Laterza drove into Cobble Hill, the section of Brooklyn where he lived, then turned onto Smith Street on Restaurant Row. The three men went into an Italian restaurant called La Lunetta.

  “Hannah, you’re up,” Wallachi said.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Wait,” Boff said. “Galvani knows what she looks like.”

  Hannah gave him a dirty look. “So what? If he approaches me, I’ll just tell him I came in for a few beers. I doubt he’ll think I’m following him.”

  Boff thought about whether it was wise to send her in. Manny was too dumb for this kind of surveillance. He needed someone with an eye for details. That wasn’t Cullen, either. Hannah was a reporter.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “Go in and sit at the bar. If it looks like they’re going to eat, get a menu and order something yourself. If Galvani approaches you, your cover is that Mike recommended the place.”

  After Boff handed her forty dollars for a meal, Hannah crossed the street and walked into the restaurant. A few minutes later, she came back out, stood by the restaurant’s front door, and took out her cell.

  Boff’s phone rang. He put it on speaker.

  They’re ordering food. Should I take a table and eat or stay at the bar?

  “Stay at the bar. Order something there.”

  Can I have a beer?

  “Yes. But stay sharp. See if they do anything suspicious.”

  What constitutes suspicious?

  “You’ll know it when you see it.”

  “Frank,” Wallachi asked, “do you think they’d eat before going on a raid?”

  Boff shrugged. “Probably not. Italian food is generally heavy. It always makes me sluggish.”

  He called Hannah back, but she didn’t answer. Moments later, she walked out of the restaurant again and called him. He hit her with a quick question before she could say anything.

  “Why’d you leave the restaurant again? Are you sitting so close to them they can hear you talk?”

  No. The bartender told me that they don’t allow cell phone usage inside. I put my phone on vibrate.

  “Okay. Are they drinking?”

  Yes. They ordered a bottle of red wine.

  Boff hung up. Hannah went back in.

  “Pete, if they’re drinking wine, it doesn’t look promising.”

  Before Wallachi could reply, his own phone rang.

  The body shop’s closing up.

  “Stick for thirty more minutes, anyway. Just to be sure.”

  Wallachi put his phone down and turned to Boff. “Looks like another wasted day.”

  “Probably.”

  Not quite ready to quit surveillance, Boff sent Cul
len to a nearby coffee bar for drinks. For all he knew, it was possible these guys liked a full stomach and a buzz before going on a raid. Not likely, but he couldn’t afford to give up so easily.

  Hannah popped out of the bar again.

  You said to let you know if they did anything suspicious.

  “What’d they do?”

  Galvani had his waiter bring him a paper napkin. The ones on the table are cloth. He’s been writing on the napkin. The other two guys are watching what he’s writing. Every so often, Galvani taps a finger on something he’s written on the napkin. Do you think I should walk over to their table on some pretense and try to get a peek at the napkin?

  “No! Don’t push your luck. If anything important is on the napkin, he’d cover it with his hand. Go back in and wait until they finish eating. If they leave the napkin on the table, grab it.”

  Wallachi said, “He might be drawing a map.”

  “Or playing tic-tac-toe,” Boff replied, frustration clear in his voice.

  After Cullen returned with the coffees, Boff waited ten minutes, then pulled Hannah out of the bar again.

  “What are they doing now?”

  Eating appetizers.

  “Where’s the napkin?”

  Just sitting on the table next to Galvani.

  “Go back in.”

  “Frank,” Wallachi said, “this is a colossal waste of time. These gumbas are just stuffing their faces. They’re not going on a raid.”

  “You’re probably right. But let’s hang for a little while longer.”

  Boff called Hannah twice more and learned that Galvani and the longshoremen were starting in on their main courses, also that they had ordered another bottle of wine.

  Almost an hour passed before Galvani and the longshoremen left the restaurant, got into the Beamer and drove off. Shortly after, Hannah came out and hustled over to the car. She burped loudly as she got in.

  Manny made a face. “You smell like a brewery,” he said. “How many did you have?”

  “None of your business.”

  “What about the napkin?” Boff asked.

  “He took it with him.”

  “By implication,” Boff said, “that means there was something of importance on it. Did you notice anything else out of the ordinary?”

  “No. They just looked like three guys having dinner and getting drunk on wine. Before Galvani left, though, he walked over to me.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He just asked me if I enjoyed my food. He studied my face when I answered, and then he left.”

  They followed the Beamer to Galvani’s place. After the cop got out of the car, Laterza took off.

  “Any point in following those two jokers?” Wallachi asked.

  “No. Galvani is the key to everything. Let’s pull the plug for tonight.”

  Chapter 30

  Boff had just finished taking a shower the next morning and was getting dressed when Wallachi called with an update on the SUV.

  Frank, somebody picked up the church vehicle. My op said it was a kid around twenty wearing baggy pants, a heavy metal T-shirt, and sneakers with the laces undone. Hardly looked like the type to be part of a church that spells ‘sunlight’ S-O-N.

  “The kid was probably just hired to pick up the car and drive it somewhere. Let me know where he drops it off.”

  Twenty minutes later, Wallachi called back.

  The kid just parked it in a garage on Sterling Place near Nostrand in Brooklyn Heights. After that, he walked out of the garage and disappeared into a subway station down the street. I told my guy to stay on the garage to see if anyone picks it up.

  “Negative, Pete. Whoever owns the vehicle might not use it right away. It could sit there for days. I don’t want your op wasting his time—not to mention my money. Just tell him to sit tight until you and I get there. I have a way of keeping an eye on that SUV without stationing an op there.”

  How?

  “I have a special GPS tracker from MobileGuardian. Not only can you track the vehicle, but the device has an online alert which tells you when the car has been started and then sends an email to your computer and any mobile device you own.”

  And you can track it like that?

  “Sure. All you do is log onto their website and stay on it at all times.”

  How much did that baby cost you?

  “Don’t ask. Its tracking and location functionality is powered by the same Global Positioning System the government uses. It’s perfect for a situation like this.”

  How soon can you get here to the garage?

  “Depending on traffic, maybe forty minutes.

  When Boff reached the garage, he immediately spotted Wallachi’s Crown Vic parked nearby. He parked his own car, walked over to Wallachi’s, and climbed into the front seat. In the backseat were Manny and Wallachi’s other op.

  “Frank Boff, the new face in the back is Louie Bunevich. Another Polack like me.”

  Boff nodded. “Where’s the vehicle, Louie?”

  “Second level.”

  Boff handed Manny a slip of paper. “I want you to go to a website called MobileGuardian. This is my user name and password. Log on and change my email address to yours, both on your Blackberry and your home computer. I’ve already registered the SUV’s plate on the site, so all we have to do is attach the GPS device that triggers the alert.”

  “I’m on it,” Manny said.

  “And, Manny, it’s important that you keep logged in at all times on the BlackBerry and your PC. We don’t know when they’ll pick the vehicle up, but once the SUV’s engine is started, you’ll get an immediate email telling you. When that happens, you let me know and keep tracking the SUV.”

  “Frank,” Wallachi said, “what if they come for it at three in the morning?”

  “Even if they do, when Manny wakes up in the morning, we’ll still have its new location.” Boff turned to the other op. “Louie, show me where the vehicle’s parked.”

  Leaving the car, Boff and Louie walked inside the garage, found the SUV, and attached the MobileGuardian device.

  Back inside the Crown Vic, Boff looked at his watch. “Okay, Pete, it’s eleven o’clock. Let’s resume surveillance on Galvani at three. We’ll need food, so bring along a couple bags of bagels. I’ll stop at a bakery near my apartment where they have great éclairs.”

  “Do you have to bring Hannah along?” Manny asked.

  “See you later,” Boff said. He went back to his own car.

  ***

  Cullen didn’t like leaving Hannah alone and unprotected while he and Bellucci were working out, so he took a shot and talked her into coming to the gym with them for the morning session.

  It hadn’t been an easy sell.

  “Not a chance,” she muttered from behind her closed door.

  “Listen, I can understand that you hate boxing,” he began. “A lot of people are turned off by the violence and the blood. But the gym isn’t like that. It’s probably more interesting than most fights. Why not check it out? What else do you have to do before we start tailing Galvani again? And as a bonus, Mikey and I will take you to lunch. Anyplace you want.”

  With more prodding, Hannah eventually consented to go.

  Once inside the gym, Cullen grabbed a folding chair and positioned it by the door so she could pop out for fresh air when the heat and the smell got too much for her.

  “Why don’t you have air conditioning?” she asked.

  “Boxers have to sweat off pounds in order to make the official weight limit for a fight. The heat helps you do that.”

  While running on the treadmill, Cullen kept an eye on her. She had her head buried in a book. Eventually, though, curiosity got the best of her. She closed her book and checked out what was going on at the gym.

  Cullen wondered what she made of the fighters performing McAlary’s unorthodox drills. Bellucci was in the ring sparring with another guy, but his roommate wasn’t wearing gloves. Only his sparring mate had them on. Bel
lucci also wasn’t throwing punches, just moving his upper body and feet to avoid getting hit. One of the other boxers was using a sledgehammer to pound the truck tire. Another guy was shadowboxing while McAlary threw tennis balls at his head. When Cullen got a break, he walked over to her.

  “See anything interesting?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if I’d call it interesting, but it certainly was weird. Why doesn’t your roommate have boxing gloves on?”

  “It’s a defensive drill designed to help you to avoid punches by moving your body.”

  “And the truck tire? Do you really get something out of hitting it with that big hammer?”

  Cullen nodded. “That hammer weighs twenty pounds. By the time I’ve given the tire fifteen good whacks or so, my arms feel like lead.”

  “What good does that do you? And what’s up with the boxer who’s getting tennis balls thrown at his head?”

  “To answer your first question, hitting the tire with the hammer adds strength in a natural way. Maybe a better way than lifting weights. As for the tennis ball drill, well, you see, when you’re throwing punches in the ring, your opponent isn’t going to just stand there and let you hit him like he’s a punching bag. He’ll be firing counter shots back at you. The tennis ball drill forces you to move your head while you’re punching to avoid those counter shots.”

  “I have to admit this is nothing like I thought it would be. It seems like a strange way to train.”

  “It is, I guess. But the drills help make us better boxers. That’s all that counts. Mikey and I will be done in another half hour. Did you decide where you want to go for lunch?”

  Chapter 31

  Hannah chose a vegan restaurant in Park Slope called The V Spot. When Cullen opened the menu and saw what was offered, he groaned.

  “Did you bring me here as punishment?”

  “You exposed me to boxing,” she replied. “Now I’m going to introduce you to vegan food. Don’t pass judgment until you’ve tried it.”

  They sat on the backyard patio at a glass-top table. The redhead ordered pumpkin seed-crusted lentil patties, which came with roasted garlic mashed potatoes and a salad. Bellucci said, “I’m going to throw caution to the wind and order kale tostadas. Whatever kale is.” Cullen, who was not an adventurous eater, figured they couldn’t poison him if he ordered the large house salad.