by JC Kane
Lee Giordano raised his arms to show his disapproval. “What the hell?”
Hatchett jumped out of the car, stomped over to Lee and grabbed him by the shirt. “You fucking asshole. You fucked me.”
One of Lee’s bodyguards watched from the front entryway to Lee’s house. He didn’t like what he saw. He came running out of the house towards Detective Hatchett, ready to do what was necessary to protect Lee.
“No,” Lee said to his security guy. “Let me handle this. Go back inside.” The security officer hesitated but he did as Lee requested and watched from inside the front door.
“Now, do you mind?” Lee asked Hatchett. “If you want to talk, let’s talk. There’s no need to wrinkle my shirt.”
Hatchett didn’t want to let go. He wanted to throw Lee on the ground and empty his magazine into his head. Instead, he let go. “Did you know about the phone?”
“What phone?” Lee asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Bruce is out of jail. They let him go on fifty thousand cash bond.”
“That’s it?” Lee said. “Fifty thousand? I couldn’t get a bond when I was sitting in jail for the same shit.”
“You’re a convicted felon. Bruce is a lawyer, in good standing, representing criminals, like you. Cooper McGill also shared an interesting bit of information with the judge. You know the messages you showed us on your phone?”
“Yeah”
“Who sent those messages to you?” Hatchett asked.
“I told you the messages were from Bruce.”
“That’s interesting, because that phone number, you claim belongs to Bruce, is registered to a corporation and you are listed as the sole director of that corporation.”
Lee didn’t see the problem. “So what? That was Bruce’s area of responsibility. He was responsible for setting up all the corporations and phones and all that shit. He probably set up the corporation for me and put the phone in my name. All the phones are probably set up the same way.”
“That’s a major fucking problem, Lee. It means that we have nothing solid connecting those messages to Bruce. He claims it’s not his phone and he doesn’t know anything about it. The phone is out and we can’t prove that Bruce sent those messages to you.”
“You still have my testimony. I can tell the judge that it was Bruce’s phone and that he was in charge of all the technical stuff, like phones and computers and all that shit.”
Hatchett shook his head. “Your credibility is shit. Bruce and his attorney will paint you as a drug trafficker who is trying to blame everything on his lawyer, which is what they’ve already done. Unless we have some new evidence that proves what you claim about Bruce Kennedy, it won’t hold any weight.”
“I can tell you exactly where he keeps his computer stuff hidden. He runs everything from his laptop and his smartphone. All of his records and emails and everything. He has traps all over his office, where he keeps drugs, money, records, computers, flash drives, all of it. I can tell you where they are. I’ve seen them.”
“We searched his office when we arrested him. We searched his house. We didn’t find anything. If there was anything there, he cleaned it out before we got there. Even if you tell us where the hidden traps are, they would be empty. If he is who you say he is, he’s smart enough to get rid of a computer full of records in his office when he knows that we’re going to search it.”
Lee paced back and forth. He had to think of something. He had to stay out of jail. He wasn’t going back to jail. He couldn’t handle another stretch in prison. “What if you catch Bruce in the act of buying cocaine? I can talk to a guy, get the information, and tell you when and where to show up. You can catch him in the act.”
Hatchett screamed towards the sky. His frustration had been building for a while. This was not a good situation. His supervisor warned him not to trust Lee. The prosecutor warned him not to trust Lee. He risked his reputation to get Lee out of jail. In exchange, Lee was to deliver Bruce Kennedy on a platter. Now, it was falling apart. Lee was still out of jail on home confinement and Hatchett had no leads and very little hope of salvaging the case.
“I’m going to talk to the prosecutor about your case,” Hatchett said. “If you don’t come up with something concrete, you’re going back to jail to face trafficking charges for one hundred kilos of cocaine. I will call you tonight and you better have something.”
Chapter 46
It was a hot day in Las Vegas, even by Las Vegas standards. As Bruce got off the plane, the heat hit him like a basketball in the face.
He rented a car and drove straight to the house where Old Goat was supposed to be staying. Someone was watching the house and would let Bruce know if Old Goat left the house at any time. According to the brother, Old Goat was still at the house and rarely left.
Bruce hit some buttons on his mobile phone and waited for his contact to answer. “Yeah, it’s Bruce. Is he still at the house?”
The contact confirmed that Old Goat was still at the house.
“Good, I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Call me if anything changes.”
Bruce passed Aurelio’s Pizza, turned into a subdivision and made his way on to Burnt Hills Drive in North Las Vegas. All of the houses looked essentially the same. White stucco exterior. Orange Spanish tiles on the roof. Rocks where the front yard should be. Bruce noticed a car parked on the corner. There was a person sitting in the driver’s seat. It had to be his contact. No one in their right mind would sit in their car in front of a house, for no apparent reason, in the insane heat.
Bruce looked at the driver as he slowly passed the car. His windows were down but that surely wouldn’t help him stay cool. He was sweating so bad it looked like someone poured a bucket of water on top of his head. Bruce hoped that he had enough sense to turn on his air conditioning every once in a while. Bruce gave the driver a thumbs up and kept on moving. He found the address he was looking for and now his contact was free to leave and go find some air conditioning.
Bruce pulled his car into the driveway and walked up to the front door. His plan was simple. Walk in and drag Old Goat out by the hair on his chin.
He rang the doorbell and looked around the neighborhood, waiting for someone to open the front door. His contact hadn’t moved. He probably wanted to see how things played out. I imagine he wanted to make sure he was getting his share of the $25,000.00 reward. Bruce couldn’t blame him. It was a lot of money for a guy like him. Bruce was happy to pay the money to finally solve the Old Goat mystery.
A man answered the door and Bruce turned around. “Hi, I’m here to see Old Goat. I’m an old friend of his from California.” Bruce pulled open the wrought iron security door and walked into the house. The man put his hand on Bruce’s chest and tried to slow him down but it didn’t work.
“Hey, man. You can’t just walk into my house.”
Bruce kept walking. The man wasn’t committed enough to stop Bruce. “It’s okay. I just need to talk to Old Goat and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Dude, hold on. I don’t know who you are.” The man grabbed Bruce’s shoulder but Bruce shrugged him off as he turned the corner and saw Old Goat sitting on the couch watching TV.
“There he is,” Bruce said with a smile.
Old Goat was surprised. He sat up quickly. “Bruce. What are you doing here?”
“Funny, that’s exactly what I was going to ask you.” Bruce walked closer to Old Goat.
“You know this guy?” the man asked, hoping to avoid an ugly confrontation. “He just walked right in. Wouldn’t tell me his name or nothing.”
“Yeah, I know him. I work with him.” Old Goat stood up, smiled, and walked towards Bruce. “Come on in, man. Can I get you something to drink?”
Bruce walked over and reached towards Old Goat. Old Goat thought he was going in for a hug and put his arms out to give him a hug. Bruce didn’t want a hug. He wanted to pat Old Goat down, search him for weapons, maybe electronic listening devices.
“What th
e hell man?” Old Goat said. He was confused more than offended. Bruce did a thorough search and was satisfied that there were no weapons and no bugs.
“Okay, let’s go. Time to hit the road. You’re coming with me.” Bruce grabbed Old Goat by the arm and pulled him towards the front door. They could talk in the car on the way to the airport.
“Where we going?” Old Goat asked. “Did Green send you to get me?”
Bruce stopped and looked at Old Goat. “What do you mean, did Green send me? Why would Green send me?”
“I don’t know,” Old Goat said. “He’s the one that told me to come out here. He gave me a new phone, told me not to talk to anyone, and stay here until he told me to come back.”
Bruce was confused. “Green sent you here? He knew you were here from the very beginning?”
Old Goat nodded. “Yeah, he sent me a text message about three weeks ago. He told me to destroy my phone, don’t talk to anyone, and drive straight to Vegas.”
“He told you to come here?” Bruce still couldn’t believe what Old Goat was telling him.
Old Goat nodded.
“Yeah,” Bruce said. “Green told me to come get you. Now let’s go. I need to find out what the fuck is going on.”
Chapter 47
An old, beat-up pickup truck pulled into the driveway of Castello del Re. Two middle-aged Hispanic men rode in the front. A mishmash of landscaping equipment crowded the bed of the truck.
The vehicle stopped at the security gate and a police officer and a security officer came out to inspect.
“What are you doing here today?” the security officer asked the driver?
The police officer walked around the truck and looked in the back. It looked like the typical landscaper’s truck. Lawnmower. Leaf blower. Garbage bin. Rakes. Trimmer. Ladder. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The driver mumbled something in Spanish. The security officer didn’t understand.
“Today is not Wednesday,” the security officer said. “The landscaper normally comes on Wednesday. Why are you here on a Tuesday? And where is Constantine?”
The driver said something in Spanish, but the security officer didn’t understand.
“He said,” the police officer explained to the security officer, “that Constantine was visiting his family in Mexico and today is the only day they could come to this property.”
The security officer walked around the truck and looked in the back of the truck.
“It’s clean,” the police officer said.
The security officer picked up a couple items in the back and moved them around. “Go ahead,” he said to the driver. He walked inside and pushed the button to open the gate and the truck drove in.
“I need some cash,” Lee said into his smartphone.
“How much cash?” Severo asked. Severo was aware that Lee was arrested for transporting a large amount of cocaine. It was big news in the neighborhood. However, he didn’t understand why he was not currently in jail, although he had his suspicions. Severo also knew that Lee was part of the group of people that recently tried to gun him down while he was eating in his favorite restaurant.
“Come on,” Lee pleaded. “We go back a long time and now I’m asking you for a favor.”
“You told me to retire and I took your advice,” Severo said. “Do you remember that? You said you had no use for me anymore. You must be very desperate to call me and ask for money. Are you surprised I’m alive?”
“Okay, I need fourteen million. I know this is an encrypted call so I’m just going to say it. I need fourteen million and I’ll be able to pay you back in a month, maybe two.”
“I heard you were arrested for transporting cocaine. How did you get out of jail so quickly?”
“They let me out on bond. I had to pay two million dollars. I’m out of jail. I’m at home. Now I need some money for a very big deal. I need it to pay my legal team and get things rolling again.” Lee paced back and forth. The sound of lawn mowers echoed in the distance.
“Lee, why would you ask me for money?” Severo asked. “You and your new partner just tried to kill me. Your man tried to gun me down in cold blood, at my favorite restaurant, no less. Now, you have the nerve to call me and ask for money? You are insane.”
“Listen to me,” Lee pleaded. “I know you think I’m working with the police, but I’m not. I’m at home. This call is not being recorded. No one is listening to this conversation. It’s you and me. That’s it. I need you to help me out. I’ll pay you back, with interest. You will make a ton of money from this deal.”
“It just seems strange that you’re asking me for money when you’re also trying to kill me. I think you have officially lost your mind.”
“Severo, I’m begging you. If you say yes, I will have Jesus pick up the money. I won’t even be there. I just need you to say yes. You can trust Jesus, right?”
Severo was actually impressed with Lee’s boldness. How many people would have the nerve to ask a person that they just tried to kill for fourteen million dollars. Unfortunately, it wasn’t born from confidence, it was pure desperation.
“Okay, I might be able to help you out.” Severo teased him.
“Oh, man, that would be great. Thank you.” Lee smiled. There was hope.
“Call a guy named Francisco Carbajal. He has a lot of money and he can probably help you out. Do you know him?”
Lee’s smile faded away. Severo was playing with him. He must’ve known about Lee’s deal with Francisco as well as his arrest. He knew Severo wouldn’t come near him under the circumstances.
“Fuck you, asshole! You’re a dead man.” Lee hung up the phone.
“Hello?” Severo asked. The call was disconnected. Severo smiled. He was satisfied. It felt good to know Lee was begging, suffering, and not getting what he wanted.
Lee walked out onto his back patio. He knew there had to be a way to get out of this. He had no intention of going back to jail. There must be someone he could find to take the fall for him. He had done it once for Bruce, but Bruce was no longer an option at this point.
The landscaper came around the corner of the house. He was pulling the garbage bin behind him. He walked towards Lee on the porch and started saying something in Spanish.
“Not now,” Lee said. “Go talk to my security guy if you need something.”
The landscaper kept walking towards Lee. He kept talking in Spanish but Lee didn’t understand. He pointed to the inside of the plastic garbage bin.
“No, no, no. Go away,” Lee ordered. “Stay off the patio.”
The landscaper stopped at the edge of the patio and pointed at the garbage bin again. Lee still didn’t understand. Suddenly, a thin, leather belt tightened around Lee’s neck. He didn’t see it coming. He felt something twist on the back of his neck and the belt quickly tightened even more. Lee couldn’t breathe. He was sure that his head would explode any second. He dropped his phone and tried in vain to pull the belt away from his neck. He watched the landscaper in front of him pull out a pair of handcuffs and run towards him. That was the last thing he saw before he passed out.
The landscapers had to work quickly. As Lee passed out, they placed him on his stomach and handcuffed his arms behind his back. The landscaper that had choked Lee from behind shoved a rag into Lee’s mouth and began to wrap duct tape around his mouth.
The second landscaper rolled up Lee’s pant leg and looked at the electronic monitoring device strapped to Lee’s ankle. He pulled out his machete and swung it down on top of Lee’s calf, just above the ankle. Blood poured out of the wound but the tibia bone had not been severed. The landscaper swung the machete two more times before the foot, with the ankle monitor, was completely detached.
The other landscaper placed the belt on Lee’s leg and twisted it tight to fashion a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
Lee regained consciousness and started to struggle. They let him struggle but held him down on the ground. Lee quickly ran out of energy. He could barely breathe. His mou
th was stuffed with a rag and covered with tape. His leg was throbbing and the pain was nearly enough to send him back into unconsciousness again.
The landscapers applied a quick dressing to Lee’s exposed leg and threw a burlap bag over his head. He was struggling to breathe and didn’t have the energy to resist. They compressed him into a small ball and wrapped him in more duct tape. A modified child’s pose is what they would call it in yoga.
The landscapers placed the garbage bin on its side and stuffed Lee into the bin, leaving Lee’s foot and ankle bracelet behind. They took off their coveralls and shoes and threw them in the bin, too. They placed the garbage bin upright and wheeled it back towards their truck.
The security gate was motion activated from inside the estate. The gate opened automatically as the landscaper’s truck approached. A police officer stepped outside the guard shack and the landscaper waved to him. The officer glanced in the back of the truck but didn’t notice anything unusual. The gate closed, the officer went back into the guard shack, and the truck drove away with Lee stuffed in a plastic garbage bin.
Chapter 48
Bruce stormed into the Two Zero Five clubhouse and walked right past the group of bikers playing pool without so much as a glance in their direction. Old Goat was following close behind, trying to keep up.
“You stay up here,” Bruce told Old Goat.
Bruce went straight to Green’s office in the back of the clubhouse. Green’s door was closed but Bruce threw it open without knocking first.
Green was on the phone, startled when his door flew open. Bruce snatched the phone out of Green’s hand, ended the call, and dropped the phone on the desk.
Green stood up from his desk. “What the fuck man?”
“You’re the informant? You’re the one that’s responsible for Old Goat disappearing? Lee’s arrest? My arrest?” Bruce raised his arms and waited for Green’s response, hoping Green would have a perfectly logical explanation.
