by J. B. Turner
Thomas “Mad Dog” Mills was handcuffed with chains on his legs. He had arms like lamb shanks. The officer pointed his nightstick at a chair behind the desk.
Mills shuffled over, sat down, and grimaced. His malevolent gaze wandered around the room for a few moments.
Meyerstein waited. Eventually, Mills fixed his gaze on her for what seemed like an eternity, as if trying to unnerve her. Then he again looked around the room at the special agents, staring at them long and hard, before smiling. The guy seemed to be enjoying the attention Meyerstein’s visit had brought.
“This is a real treat,” Mills drawled. “They don’t allow anyone to see me. Not a goddamn soul. I’m guessing you must be someone pretty special.”
Meyerstein said nothing, content to let him do the talking for a bit. Get it out of his system.
“They didn’t say who you were or what you wanted.”
Meyerstein just stared back at him. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Martha Meyerstein. I’m an assistant director at the FBI.”
“Is that right?”
Meyerstein nodded.
“FBI, huh? Now why would I want to talk to you? I don’t like people like you. Don’t you understand that? Read my fucking file. I loathe the Feds. I loathe the government. All types of government.”
“I’m not really interested in whether you like people like me or not, Thomas. If you like the government or don’t like the government. That’s your prerogative.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m here to talk. And just so you know, I don’t give a damn about your reputation.”
Mills sat and stared, expression impassive.
“I’m going to be blunt, Thomas. I’m here to make a deal. Just me and you. No one else will be privy to it.”
Mills looked over again at the two young Feds at the other side of the room. “These your friends?”
“They’re FBI special agents.”
Mills fixed his gaze on them like a wolf eyeing its prey. “Well, good for them. Real nice dressers. Got to let me know where you guys get your suits. Very sharp. I know a guy from Hong Kong who visits Chinatown to measure up some of the Triad dudes. Helluva nice fella.”
“Enough of the wisecracks.” Meyerstein leaned forward. “This is how it’s going to work.”
Mills turned his attention back to her. His face was flushed, veins bulging in his neck. “Meyerstein, huh? How do you spell that? I’m guessing M-e-y-e-r-s-t-e-i-n,” he said, picking out each letter of her surname. “I don’t know many Meyersteins. In fact, I don’t know any, to be honest. Not where I’m from. Is that an American name?”
“Born and bred.”
“Where’s your family from?”
“Midwest.”
“Where in the Midwest?”
“Chicago.”
“Got a lot of associates up in Chicago. Real tight crew up there.”
Meyerstein sighed.
Mills sniffed and cleared his throat. “It’s a tough town, I’ll give you that.”
“It has its moments.”
“Know what they call this part of the prison?”
Meyerstein nodded.
“First time in 10 South?”
She knew he was verbally sparring with her to show he had the upper hand. She had to be patient and put up with it. But she could already sense his deep rage and animosity, which was not far from the surface. “Yes, it is.”
“You liking it?”
“Seen worse.”
“It’s a real fucking shithole. This is the place they held El Chapo. John Gotti. All the big names if they’re on trial in the city.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Mills shifted in his seat and grimaced. “I’ve written a letter to my attorney.” He leaned forward. She could smell the coffee and tobacco on his breath. “You know why?”
“You don’t like it here, right?”
Mills grinned, enjoying her discomfort at being so close to him. “You know, people always seem on edge when I’m around. I can look into your eyes and tell exactly what you feel about me. I sense fear. Animalistic trait in me, I guess.”
He sat back. His pupils were like pinpricks. “This place is designed to make people go insane. The fluorescent lights are always on. There’s never any quiet. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“I’m not here to talk about your living conditions, Thomas. At least not directly.”
“So, what the hell are you here for?”
“What if I said I might be able to get you out of here?”
Mills shrugged his huge shoulders, chains rattling on the floor.
“You see, I’m in a position to put in a word for you. Actually, it’s more than a word. I can get you out of here. I can get you transferred to any jail where you might feel more at home. Any jail.”
“Is that right?”
“I can put in calls. I can pull strings. We’re reasonable people.”
Mills’s gaze wandered around the windowless room. He stared at the impassive expressions of the two FBI special agents. “Reasonable people, huh? What do you guys think? Are you two reasonable people?”
The special agents just stared back at him.
Meyerstein said, “I hear you’re in your cell twenty-three hours a day. Can’t be much fun.”
Mills looked at her, eyes cold and dead. “Sometimes twenty-four. Depends on the mood of the guards.” His gaze pierced hers. “Tell me, where do you live?”
Meyerstein shifted in her seat. “Why do you want to know that?”
“Just curious, I guess.”
“This isn’t about me. This is about you, Thomas. I want to do something to help you.”
Mills arched his eyebrows. “Help me? Now why’s a nice Jewish FBI agent offering to do a guy like me a favor?”
“You’re a shot caller on the East Coast. Maybe the shot caller. We have reason to believe that a letter you recently sent to your sister, which we became aware of only a few hours ago, contained coded instructions that a hit was to be carried out.”
Mills said nothing.
Meyerstein pulled a photocopy of the letter from her jacket. “Here’s the thing. We visited her house. And she still had it lying around. Written in invisible ink, perhaps your urine, were instructions. Very clever. You confess everything now, I can get you moved to a better prison, a far better prison, maybe back to Florence, Colorado. You were there before Leavenworth, weren’t you?”
Mills grinned. “I love the fresh air of Colorado. I like the people there.”
“You’ll be with the rest of your crew. Better food. Protection. The works. And that’s not all. We can slash your sentence . . . We can make recommendations, confidentially, that you get four years in Florence, not forty. We can do that. And this could really turn things around for you. Now you really need to think about this. Four years. No one else is ever going to get an offer like that. But we are prepared to do this.”
“That’s all very interesting. And what is it that I’m supposed to confess to you?”
“I’m getting to that. I’m guessing, Thomas, that you heard about what happened at Yankee Stadium this morning.”
“A guard mentioned it. You want to tell me about it?”
Meyerstein smiled. He was playing dumb. But he wasn’t dumb. She had read a psychologist’s report that said he had an IQ of 143. She knew he was very well read. He frequently quoted the German philosopher Goethe. “Earlier today, as you know, two of the O’Keefe brothers, aligned with the Aryan Circle, a splinter group of the Aryan Brotherhood of Texas, killed eight police officers outside Yankee Stadium.”
Mills cleared his throat. “You’re saying they killed eight officers? Damn, that’s pretty hard-core.”
“It was cold-blooded murder, that’s what it was. Nothing hard-core about killing police officers. And we believe you were the shot caller on this. You and three of the O’Keefe brothers were all in
Leavenworth at the same time. We’ve seen the coded letter to your sister. We’re checking the phone records from here.” Meyerstein smiled. “We’ll be checking the guards’ cell phones too, in case you were wondering. We believe, in this instance, that someone within the Brotherhood is calling the shots. Maybe it’s you. I don’t know. Maybe someone in Florence. But someone is pulling the strings on this operation.”
“Go on.”
“We know Todd O’Keefe is a lieutenant of yours, that he was an enforcer inside Leavenworth. On the outside, like a lot of your guys, he carries out hits. But only when you or someone of your seniority gives it the green light. You see, I’m not convinced this is over. A few of my colleagues also believe there might be another attack. Imminently.”
“That’s an interesting story, Meyerstein. I’m sitting here really blown away by this whole imagination of yours. It must’ve taken the FBI all of five minutes to come up with that implausible scenario. Very creative.”
Meyerstein sighed and shifted in her seat. She felt soiled just sitting so close to such a monster. She had read about how he had stabbed his rivals in the Brotherhood. Beat several black inmates to death. Shanked a black guard. Took out the eye of another. But with no bead on Todd O’Keefe’s location, she needed to make a deal if they stood a chance of stopping any further attacks. “Interestingly, it wasn’t Todd who killed those officers this morning. So did he delegate it to his brothers, or was that your idea?”
Mills shrugged.
“They’re both dead, in case you were wondering.”
“I don’t know anything about this. Especially since I’m in solitary.”
“They were killed before they got out of the Bronx.”
“Listen, what has that got to do with me? You think I’m some redneck peckerwood?”
“No, I think you’re smart. And you need to listen up, Thomas. The letter sent to your sister has your fingerprints all over it, and your code isn’t hard to figure out. We believe that you ordered these killings to avenge Charlie Campbell. And only you can get the message out to stop this.”
“I haven’t seen Charlie in years.”
“But you stayed in touch. And when his stepsons landed in Leavenworth, you took them under your wing.”
Mills shrugged, icy eyes locked onto hers.
“We need to find Todd O’Keefe.”
“Let me tell you something, Meyerstein. Charlie Campbell was a brother to me. A crazy, tough fuck, but a blood brother. Now, you won’t see guys like me weeping over Charlie. We know the business we’re in and who we roll with. It can get you killed. But we’re all prepared to die. Dying is no big thing. You don’t seem to realize that.”
Mills was getting more animated talking about Campbell. Meyerstein could see how close the men had been. “We’re offering you the best deal you’re ever going to get, Thomas. A deal that will set you free in four years. I’ve seen people in New York facing Class D violent felonies who served seven years. We’re offering four, despite everything we know about you. Think about that. You might scoff at such expediency. But I don’t. I want to save innocent people getting killed.”
Mills shook his head.
“You’re not going to get a better deal than that.”
“You think this is a negotiating tactic? Gimme a break. You come in here, thinking I’m going to talk. Thinking you’ll do what you can and make it all stop.”
“I came in here willing to strike a deal. You can take it, and it can make your life a whole lot easier.”
“You don’t get it, do you? You just don’t fucking get it.”
“Get what?”
“Get what makes us tick. What makes us who we are. Do you think the AB are stupid?”
“No, I don’t.”
“We’re many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Don’t you think the other guys in the AB will wonder why I’m getting out so early?”
“The prison can say that they’re transferring you.”
Mills sneered. “Wake the fuck up. They won’t buy that bullshit. We have people everywhere. And I mean everywhere. They’ll want to know where I’ve been for the past twenty minutes, who I’ve been talking to. I guarantee you word’s already gotten out.”
“There is a deal. It’s on the table. My advice? Take it.”
“By informing on a brother? You think that’s gonna cut it with me?”
“You’re a father. And I’m guessing your children would like to be closer to you.”
“My children hate me. Disowned me. So did my parents, years ago. My first wife killed herself. But I’m sure you already know all that.”
“Make the deal, and we can make sure no more innocent blood is spilled.”
“See . . . that’s where you’re wrong. You’ve put your cards on the table. Well, I’m going to put mine on the table, Meyerstein. From what I read, the cops weren’t innocent. It was a choke hold, five of them on top of Charlie, and his heart couldn’t take it. And sometimes . . . you’ve got to send a message. Because if you don’t, it’ll happen again. And again. They need to know we look after our own. And we take care of business how we see fit.”
“Killing people is not taking care of business.”
Mills stretched his neck muscles. “That’s where you’re wrong. Understand this: if the brothers this morning hadn’t been taken out, you would have been facing massacres in multiple locations. So don’t think this is over. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone is going to wreak whatever havoc they can.”
“No more blood needs to be shed.”
Mills sighed. “It’s the only language people understand. Violence, blood, death.”
“Is that your final word? I’m reaching out to you, Thomas, face-to-face, and it’s the last chance you’ll get of ever being a free man.”
Mills smiled. “I was never a free man. That’s a fucking illusion. No one is free. We’re all in chains. I’m in chains. You’re in chains. My advice to you, Meyerstein? Get the body bags ready. This ain’t over. Not till we say so.”
Thirteen
Reznick was standing alone on the beach in Southampton after Robert O’Keefe headed back into his house to take an urgent call from his boss. He was about to make a call of his own when his cell phone rang.
“Hi, Dad,” Lauren said.
Reznick sagged with relief to hear her voice. “Thank God.”
“I’m sorry, I tried to call, but there are cell phone signal problems across the city, apparently.”
Reznick closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to hug her tight. “Lauren, listen to me. Are you OK?”
“I’m OK, Dad. You can relax.”
“Where are you? Are you back at the hotel or your apartment?”
“I made it back to the hotel, eventually. It was a nightmare. The cab driver dropped us all off.”
“Are you still there?”
“No, I’m not, I—”
“Why not?”
“Dad, I’m not hiding away like some frightened rabbit. I don’t scare easily.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m in an Uber, headed to Midtown to see some friends. I just heard a rumor on Facebook that they might cancel the fireworks. It’s the Fourth of July! Where’s that famous New York City grit? We’re not going to be intimidated. I for one don’t want to cower in my apartment or hotel room.”
Reznick closed his eyes again. “Midtown? You need to listen to me.”
“Dad—”
“Lauren, you need to listen up. This is not over. What happened this morning, it could happen again. You need to get back to your apartment or the hotel and stay there until I give the all clear. Buy whatever food or drinks you want, and put it on my room. Take your friends there too. But you need to get off the streets.”
“Forget it.”
“The attacks are not over. The snipers this morning? There might be more of them.”
“There might not. I can’t live like that, Dad. Who do you think I am?”
�
�Do you understand how serious this is?”
“Of course I do. I just think that you tend to go a little nuts on me, being super protective.”
If the situation were less dangerous, he would have smiled at how headstrong she was. Just like her mother. Losing Elisabeth on 9/11 had ripped his heart out by its roots. A part of him died that day. A part of his soul was destroyed. But he knew one thing for sure, that if something happened to Lauren, it would be too much for him to endure. He couldn’t take that. He could take a lot. But that would crush him. Kill him.
“It’s my job to protect you, Lauren.”
“Listen, this morning was terrible. But we can’t just hide. That’s what these nutcases want us to do.”
“Don’t you understand? I’m not asking you to hide. I’m asking you to listen to me and use some common sense. Besides, these nutcases aren’t looking to spread fear. They just want to kill. So far it’s just cops. But that might change.”
“I was there. I get it. We were under attack.”
“I asked you to head back to the hotel or your apartment and stay there. Now you’re telling me you’re in a goddamn Uber headed to Midtown. That’s ridiculous. Get safe, get inside. Not hanging out in a public space.”
“I can’t live like that, and besides, you’re not here. You’re not safe, are you? I’m assuming you’re part of a team involved in tracking these people down.”
“I’m telling you, Lauren, you do as you’re told, do you hear me?” Reznick kicked away a small rock that had washed up on the beach. “Do not go out in public places until we have the all clear. We’ll talk when this is over, but for now, get inside. And remember one thing: I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad. But I’m not going to hide away. New Yorkers stand together at times like these. Besides, if those bastards think they can scare us, then they can think again. To hell with them. This is America. It’s the Fourth of July, after all.”
Reznick ended the call and stared out over the water. He couldn’t believe how headstrong she was, though he shouldn’t be surprised after the events of last summer. He wondered whether he should text her to call him when she eventually made it back to the hotel. But he figured that would just rile her up further.
He turned and started up the beach toward Robert O’Keefe’s oceanfront home when his cell phone rang again.
