by Robin Cook
At that point Michael felt as if he’d been saved, as several waiters burst from the kitchen with a wide variety of steaming pastas for the first course. Relieved, Michael sat back and took in a deep breath. From his perspective the downside of dealing with criminal organizations is that one always felt as if he was standing on the edge of a precipice.
9
MARCH 25, 2010
THURSDAY, 1:05 p.m.
Louie Barbera took the chair that had just been vacated at the very end of the visiting room at the Rikers Island visitors center. He’d been there about a half-dozen times over the years to visit Paulie Cerino, the capo he’d replaced when Paulie had been sent to prison more than a decade previously. Louie had visited mostly to ask specific questions about specific people or events, since it was difficult to take over someone else’s operation, especially when that person was expected to return. Like in all businesses, even illegal ones, consistency was important.
Louie’s visits to Paulie had grown less frequent over the years, as Louie became more familiar with Queens and its characters and specific challenges. But now Louie was at a loss. He had no idea what to do about the situation with Hideki Shimoda, and especially Vinnie Dominick, Paulie’s old archrival. It was like a balancing game over a cauldron of molten lava. One slip and everybody might fall in.
Louie used a tissue and some Purell to wipe off the telephone handset, which was still warm from the previous user. Paulie had yet to arrive. Louie’s plan was simple: give Paulie the details, get Paulie’s response, then get the hell out. Although Rikers Island was the biggest and busiest penal institution in the world, the place was also notorious for its run-down condition. Louie shivered at the thought of staying in the place overnight, much less for more than a decade.
Glancing to his right, Louie looked at the long line of other visitors, most of whom appeared to be women talking to husbands. Many appeared as if they were barely making ends meet, though some tried to dress up. There were guards on both sides of the glass with glazed eyes and bored expressions. Louie looked at his watch. It was after two, and he already wanted to leave. He promised himself he’d never come back to this place.
At that moment he caught sight of Paulie and started. The last time he’d seen him, Paulie had looked much the same as always, plus the scars he’d suffered after someone had thrown acid in his face a year or so before he had been imprisoned. He’d always been heavy and unconcerned about his appearance. Now he was comparatively skinny, and his prison outfit hung on him like an oversized shirt on a metal hanger.
As Paulie took his seat on the other side of the glass, Louie had to briefly look away. He’d forgotten about Paulie’s double corneal transplants, where the clear area of his eyes contrasted so sharply with the scarred area as to be startling.
Controlling himself, Louie picked up the telephone and raised his eyes to Paulie even though it was like looking down a couple of gun barrels. After a bit of chitchat, Louie said, “Paulie, you look different, like you lost some weight.”
“I am different,” Paulie agreed wistfully if not mystically. “I’ve found the Lord.”
Good grief, Louie thought but didn’t say. He lamented the fact that he’d made the effort to come all the way to Rikers Island to seek advice about a difficult underworld conundrum now that Paulie had found God. It made the whole situation so absurd that Louie thought about leaving, when Paulie suddenly refocused and said, “I know you probably came out here to get some advice about some problem, but I want to ask you a question first. How did that bastard Vinnie Dominick weasel his way out of all those indictments last year? I thought for sure he was going to end up in here with me. Nobody’s told me nothing.”
The question took Louie by surprise. Maybe Paulie wasn’t quite as overwhelmed by his newfound Christianity. Maybe he could still offer some advice.
“Strange you should ask, because I was the problem with Vinnie Dominick and most of the others getting off, and it’s related to how they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar.”
“I don’t follow,” Paulie admitted with interest.
“I found out Vinnie had himself a yacht for all sorts of nasty work-related entertaining. I had my guys place a GPS on the boat. When I knew Vinnie and company were up to no good, I gave the password and user name to Lou Soldano so he could nab them, which he did.”
“Lou!” Paulie exclaimed. “How is the old bastard?”
“As much of a bastard as always. Why do you ask?”
“We butted heads for so many years, we became sorta friends. He still sends my wife and kids a Christmas card every year. Can you believe it?”
As far as Louie was concerned, he saw Soldano as the embodiment of the enemy and refused to see him any other way, Christmas cards or not. “Do you want to hear how Dominick got off or what?”
“I want to hear,” Paulie admitted.
“Dominick got some great lawyers who jumped on the role played by the GPS, and with one of New York’s famously liberal judges, they were able to get thrown out all evidence obtained from the GPS device, since there was no warrant. Can you believe it? In one fell swoop the guts of the prosecutor’s cases was unusable. I tell you, on occasion the whole justice system in this country is its own worst enemy.”
“Thanks for clueing me in about Vinnie, the lucky bastard,” Paulie said. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me what you want. I can’t imagine it’s a sermon.”
“No sermon, thank you,” Louie began. “Just your advice. After more than a year of smooth sailing businesswise, we’re in one of those no-win situations that could easily escalate into a disaster. Now, it’s a bit on the complicated side, so let me fill you in about our partnership with one of the Yakuza families.”
To be certain Paulie understood the whole situation, Louie went back and explained how their relationship had developed between himself and Hideki Shimoda, the head of the Aizukotetsu-kai Yakuza. “I set up a number of high-stakes gambling locations on the Upper East Side that looked and acted like restaurants to ensnare foolish visiting Japanese businessmen, which Hideki supplies. We offer unlimited credit and female companionship, and then Hideki’s associates collect from the surprised deadbeats back in Japan. After the Yakuza back in Japan take their cut, they pay us off in either cash or crystal meth, but generally crystal meth, which we prefer, and they seem to have an endless supply. The setup has been working perfectly, providing a large percentage of our current working cash. In fact, it has been so profitable that the copycat Vinnie Dominick has created his own setup with another Yakuza organization called the Yamaguchi-gumi.”
“We never teamed up with nobody,” Paulie commented with disdain.
“I understand, and maybe I shouldn’t have done it,” Louie admitted, lowering his voice when a guard drifted near. “But Dominick is now doing as well as we are, and it’s actually helping up the demand for crystal meth. The current problem I want to talk to you about came out of the blue. Hideki Shimoda called me up just a couple of days ago, asking me to help a couple of his guys shake down some Japanese researcher type and steal the man’s laboratory books. I didn’t necessarily like the idea about getting involved in someone else’s business, but Hideki was insistent, and I went along because, as I said, it was supposed to be only a shakedown. But that wasn’t what it turned out to be.” At that point, Louie related what had happened the previous night, and the potential bomb that had been created.
“You’re surprised that these Yakuza thugs are prone to violence?” Paulie asked with surprise of his own.
“I was surprised about the extent. There’d been no problem until last night. They seemed respectful of the way we were operating, keeping killings to a minimum. I mean, Vinnie Dominick and I are hardly friends, but we’ve just learned over the years that real violence is bad for business. Maybe it’s more that I learned and Vinnie has been willing to follow suit. I’ve actually made it a personal crusade of sorts.”
“Okay, so now what?”
&nbs
p; “Hideki calls me up this morning, supposedly to thank me for sending the help, and he doesn’t admit anything had gone wrong. I had to pull it out of him. And he didn’t even mention the New Jersey part. Then he demands we help him again tonight to get the lab books he didn’t get last night, with the same trigger-happy soldiers. The plan is to break into an office building on Fifth Avenue. When he senses my obvious hesitation about agreeing to such a harebrained idea, he threatens me with breaking up our comfy business relationship. He says that Dominick would surely help him with the robbery if he were offered to get the Aizukotetsu-kai business as well as the Yamaguchi-gumi’s. You got the picture? The man is extorting me.”
“I’m getting the picture, but I don’t understand why you were willing to hook up with these Yakuza guys in the first place.”
“They just didn’t seem to be overly violent, at least not until last night. But let’s get beyond that issue and focus on the current one. After all, this is your territory. As soon as you’re out you’ll be back in the driver’s seat. When does it look like that might happen?”
“It’s up to the parole board. I mean, I’ve been eligible for longer than I like to think about. I’ve been turned down so many times I’m starting to think Vinnie is involved, but that’s another story. Back to your problem. My first instinct is to get rid of this Hideki. You can’t let anyone get away with extorting you. Not in this business. Cut off the head and the beast won’t bite.”
“Can’t do!” Louie said definitely and without hesitation. “He’s too high-profile. The Aizukotetsu-kai would be over here and a real war would break out. Besides, you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. As I mentioned, a good part of our current cash flow would halt.”
“Then get rid of the two enforcers who did the dirty work,” Paulie said. “You don’t need guys like that around who take it on their own to shoot whoever the hell they please. You have to send a message that that kind of behavior is not okay.”
“I’m listening,” Louie said, “but whacking them is going to involve abandoning my antiviolence campaign. I’ve been really strict about it. I’ve even talked down the little stuff, like avoiding knocking around gambling deadbeats unless absolutely necessary. Dominick and I even had a meeting about it, and we agreed. So there’s been no violence to speak of, and the cops have left us alone and business has been as good as can be expected, even in this down economy.”
“You can’t have it both ways,” Paulie snapped. “You can encourage everyone to keep the violence down, that’s all well and good. But this is different. This is serious, from the leader of a foreign gang. You have to react, and you have to react now. If you don’t do something dramatic, word is going to get around that you’ve lost your touch. I mean, it’s nice to have a nonviolent stance, because it can be useful with the police, but it can be counterproductive with all the competition. If you don’t want to cut off the head, then you have to inflict some serious damage to the vital organs. You have to get rid of Hideki’s two lead goons. Listen to me!” Paulie suddenly motioned with his eyes for Louie to look to his right. One of the bored guards was sauntering in their direction on Louie’s side of the glass. As he approached, Louie and Paulie switched their conversation to small talk about how much better it was in the old days with Louie in Bayonne, New Jersey, and Paulie there in Queens.
Unfortunately, the guard went behind Louie to the window and stared out at the bay for a time, forcing Louie and Paulie to think up things to talk about. They finally hit on the Yankees and what the 2010 season would be like. When the guard finally strolled away, Louie said, “We’ve got to speed this up. The clock is ticking on how long I’m allowed to be here.”
“You have to do something dramatic or you are going to lose control,” Paulie said. “What I’d do is call Hideki, pretend you’ve changed your mind and play up your willingness to help; tell him you want to have a meeting because the more you know about what’s going on, the better you can help. And do it face-to-face. You learn a lot more at a meeting than with a phone call. Of course, have the meeting in your office. Come up with some plan about how you’re going to break into the office where the lab books are to give yourself something real to talk about to make him believe you’re definitely going to do something.”
Louie nodded, knowing he could come up with something believable. Certainly the idea of finding out more about the lab books and Satoshi would be helpful.
“I mean, the plan doesn’t have to be elaborate, since you’re never going to do it—something like creating a major distraction, such as a fire or an explosion nearby so you can slip in and out of the office building with everyone concentrating on the distraction.”
Louie was impressed. Apparently, Paulie hadn’t lost any of his edge, especially coming up with a plan so quickly. Louie also started to believe the born-again Christianity might have more to do with the parole board than true religiosity.
“Make plans to meet up with the enforcers someplace in the city where there’s always a crowd. Once you have them in the car, you’re golden. Make sure to get rid of the bodies. Then after an hour or so, call Hideki back and be pissed off, asking where the fuck are his guys, as you’ve been waiting all this time, blah, blah, blah.”
“You think he’d buy it and not smell a rat? I don’t want to make this situation worse.”
“I think there’s a good chance he’ll buy it outright,” Paulie continued. “But here’s the tricky part that will take some thought on your end. Drop some offhand comment about your guys hearing from his guys last night that they were somehow concerned about the rival gang. What was the name of the group hooked up with Vinnie?”
“Yamaguchi-gumi.”
“That’s it. I mean, don’t overdo it. Just some trifle reference his guys were concerned about a couple of the Yamaguchi-gumi enforcers, or whatever they call their hit men. The Yakuza are paranoid about each other and do more harm to each other than the police. Am I making sense?”
“A lot of sense,” Louie said.
“Are you going to take my advice?”
“I’ll think about it,” Louie answered.
“But it’s key that you don’t add to your violence problem by anybody finding a couple of bodies with a single bullet in their brains.”
“Understood,” Louie agreed.
“Now, about the current violence problem,” Paulie continued, lowering his voice. “I haven’t heard anything about a guy getting whacked on any subway platform, nor any mass murder in New Jersey. How come? What’s the story? Here inside, we learn about such things sometimes even before they happen.”
“When I got upset with Hideki telling me the truth instead of the wacky story of a heart attack, he tried to calm me down by insisting that the death was done in a way that would be considered natural and would be undetectable to the police. Also, his guys took all the man’s IDs, so it’s going to be an unidentified corpse until someone comes out of the blue to identify him.”
“What about the mass murder?”
“The only explanation for now is that no one has stumbled on the scene. If the whole family was home, except for Satoshi, who surely is not going home, it might be a while before it’s discovered. My guys say it’s not the best part of town, mostly empty buildings, trash, and graffiti. They didn’t even see a single person, and it was evening, when you most often see people coming home from work.”
“That’s in our favor. Under such conditions it could be months, and it would never be associated with the hit on the subway platform, which is important, in my mind. As far as going over there and cleaning it out ourselves, I say definitely no. We shouldn’t go near the place.”
“I agree with that totally,” Louie said.
“That leaves the victim who was whacked. Did Hideki tell you how he was killed?”
“No. All he said was that no one is going to figure it out, so it will be considered a natural death.”
“That means it’s important that it remains a natural death.”
“I suppose you’re right. But there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Paulie said. “I know a kid that works at the medical examiner’s office named Vinnie Amendola. Well, he’s no kid anymore. Hell, he’s got to be in his forties. Nice kid. I literally saved his father way back when, so the kid owes me big-time. Of course, we used him once a number of years ago to sneak a body out of the morgue. He got into a bit of trouble over it, but I smoothed it over, since he’s lived all his life out here in Queens. He could help you on this case.”
“By doing what?” Louie questioned.
“He could tell you the status on the case, like if the cause of death has been signed out as natural. Vinnie loves his job, God knows why. He knows everything that goes on in the medical examiner’s office.”
Louie took a moment to look back at the visitors’ desk. He was afraid they would soon be asking him to leave, yet he wanted to hear the rest of Paulie’s suggestions. As Louie had envisioned, Paulie had some good ideas. When no one waved at him from the desk, Louie turned his attention back to Paulie.
“You waiting for someone?” Paulie asked.
“No. I’m afraid they’re going to kick me out. So you think it’s worth it to take the time to go to the morgue?”
“I definitely think you should go for one very important piece of information.”
“Are you going to tell me or what?” Louie questioned. It seemed Paulie was stalling on purpose with time running out.
“The most important thing I want you to ask Vinnie Amendola is the name of the medical examiner on the case.”
Louie knotted his brow in surprise. “Are you serious? What the hell for? Why does it matter?”
“If it’s Laurie Montgomery, we are in trouble.”
“Who the hell is Laurie Montgomery?”
“She’s one of the MEs,” Paulie said. “If I had to pick the single person most responsible for my being here in prison, it would be Laurie Montgomery. She’s the smartest one at the morgue, and certainly the most dogged. She figured out stuff from the bodies I was responsible for sending in there in ways that still mystify me. We even tried to whack her and couldn’t. We even had her nailed in a coffin at one time—you know, one of those simple pine boxes they use for the unidentified dead. She’s like a cat with nine lives. Even Vinnie Dominick tried to kill her without luck.”
