Payback Page 8

  MOMENTS LATER

  I WALKED INTO THE U.S. ATTORNEY’S lavish if cluttered office and was immediately greeted by a wide smile and a warm embrace. Dee Dee Jacobs had been in the office for a month shy of two years and was, in the words of the great Southern writer Harry Crews, “kicking ass and taking names.” She was building a national reputation as a driven prosecutor, handing out indictments and subpoenas like Halloween candy.

  Dee Dee was five foot four if she wore heels. She was in her mid-fifties but looked a decade younger. Her blond hair was long and curled at the sides, and her body was toned from a boot-camp workout routine and a low-fat, low-carb diet she had been following since I first met her twenty years ago. She had only one bad habit I knew of: She drank coffee to excess, more than a dozen cups a day. As a result, Dee Dee was always wired and never tired.

  “It’s been a long time, Tank,” she said, sitting now behind her desk and gesturing me to sit across from her. “Too long. Way too long.”

  “It doesn’t feel that long,” I said. “Maybe because I read about you in the papers practically every day and see your pretty face on cable news nearly every time I switch on my TV.”

  Dee Dee shrugged. “The price to pay for putting scumbags where they belong.”

  We first met when she was a green prosecutor working out of the Manhattan DA’s office. Back then, me and Pearl were just starting to bring down some heavy hitters, and since we were new and Dee Dee hadn’t been there long enough for the DA to figure how to work her in, he assigned her to our cases. Over the years, we worked more than twenty cases with Dee Dee—clean, solid convictions. In court, she was as solid as me and Pearl were on the streets.

  “Just the other day, I was just thinking about a case we worked on,” she said. “The Bossano murder trial. You remember that one?”

  “Hard to forget a stuttering hit man,” I said. “Arresting him was the easy part. He had killed two wiseguys on 109th Street in East Harlem. By the next day, there was a citywide BOLO out. While that was going on, me and Pearl were relaxing over a nice meal at Patsy’s. With you and that chubby guy with the high-pitched voice you were dating.”

  “He wasn’t much of a date, but he was and is one terrific carpenter,” Dee Dee said. “If you said the word ‘screw’ to him, his mind went in an entirely unintended direction.”

  “He ate well, as I recall,” I said. “While all you wanted to know was why the hell me and Pearl were enjoying a meal instead of searching for a killer. We told you not to worry, we’d have him in cuffs before the night was out. And we did.”

  “He kills two guys on 109th Street,” Dee Dee said, “and he goes off and hides in an apartment on 108th Street. And you guys acted as if you knew that all along.”

  “We did,” I said. “It was his mother’s place, and every Sunday, like clockwork, Bossano had dinner with his mother. Never missed a Sunday. Not even when every badge in the city was looking to nail his ass.”

  “Remember what he asked when we went in to take him?” Dee Dee asked, a smile creasing her pretty face.

  “He asked if he could have his dessert first,” I said. “And if it would be okay not to cuff him in front of his mother.”

  “So we were sitting at a kitchen table, eating homemade cannoli and drinking espresso with a stone-cold killer and his sweet little mother,” Dee Dee said.

  “We could have been there for the lasagna if we didn’t have to drop your chubby boyfriend off first,” I said.

  “Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected.

  Dee Dee stood, walked over, and poured out two cups of coffee from a large silver dispenser. She handed me one and sat back down behind her desk, taking two long sips of the hot liquid. “The chief filled me in on the cases you’re planning to take on,” she said.

  “Kenwood needs to go down,” she continued. “On him, I need all the help I can get. If you and your crew help nail his ass, I’ll be happy. There’s plenty of problems there, though, Tank.”

  “Such as?”

  “He can’t be touched unless we prove he planted evidence or got those confessions in an illegal manner,” Dee Dee said. “Right now he collects his full pension and can’t be prosecuted. On paper, his arrests hold. He can point to the Manhattan DA’s office for the convictions. If the cases smelled bad, they should have been the first to notice.”

  “You ever handle one of his cases?”

  Dee Dee shook her head. “I like to think I would have figured them to be wrong, but I can’t say for certain. He had locked-down confessions from the mouths of felons with multiple convictions. Most prosecutors wouldn’t have batted an eye.”

  “If Randy Jenkins is innocent, me and my crew will prove it,” I said. “And if I can put Kenwood’s fingerprints on even a shred of the evidence, then I’ll make sure you and the chief will be the first ones to see it.”

  “Watch your step with Kenwood,” she said. “He’s like a New York City rat. If he’s cornered, he goes for the throat.”

  “What about the accountants?” I asked. “I heard you were working with Jack. How far along did you get?”

  “Not very,” she said. “He came to us three, four weeks before he died. He gave us some information but not enough to build anything solid.”

  “Were they on your radar before Jack talked to you?”

  Dee Dee nodded. “We were looking their way for about a year,” she said. “They keep their business tight and clean. At least on the surface. But I don’t need to tell you these bastards are dangerous and deadly. They’ll do anything to keep up the racket they’ve got going.”

  “Like murder my brother and his wife,” I said. “Based only on suspicion.”

  “Like murder anyone who gets too close to their business,” she said. “And they’ll make sure their prints are nowhere near the scene of the crime.”

  “My crew’s good,” I said. “But a lot of this is white-collar work. I need somebody who can cut through all that and get to what they’re really doing.”

  “I know you do,” Dee Dee said. She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a thin yellow file and handed it to me.

  “One of yours?” I asked, opening the file and skimming through the bio.

  “One of my best,” she said. “He can help navigate the waters, and he’s as good with a gun as he is with financials.”

  “How will you square him with your office?”

  “It helps I’m in charge,” she said. “Most times I get to ask the questions and not the other way around. But in case it comes up, all anyone needs to know is he’s on an undercover assignment. Which, in fact, he is. He’s also not stepping into this blind. He’s been looking into their operation for a few months. He’ll help you navigate your way through their waters. He will report to you and back to me.”

  I looked down at the name typed in bold across the top of the résumé. “Bobby Gregson,” I said.

  “Was a lawyer before he decided to pin on a badge, so he’ll help you in that arena, as well,” Dee Dee said. “Now, I know how you hate to work with anyone you don’t know. But I know him, and that should carry some weight with you.”

  I nodded. “If he’s got your stamp of approval, Dee Dee,” I said, “then that’s good enough for me.”

  I rested my coffee on her desk, closed the folder, and stood, ready to leave. I looked over at Dee Dee and smiled. “I’m not going to keep anything from you,” I said. “We work same as we did when we were younger and faster. So, up front, you should know I’m sending in someone to plant money with the firm. Be a good way for us to track how they move the cash handed to them.”

  “Not a bad play,” Dee Dee said. “So long as it’s someone who knows what he’s going up against.”

  “Carmine Tramonti,” I said.

  Dee Dee nodded. “Old mob guy going in to piece away some money. He’ll pass their smell test
, I’m sure of it. How much are you going to have him invest?”

  “One hundred and fifty thousand,” I said. “But it won’t be his money he’ll be handing over.”

  Dee Dee stood and walked around her desk to my side. “I’m taking a guess it’s not going to be your money, either,” she said.

  “Not a chance,” I said. “I was thinking federal money. It wouldn’t be the first time your office put cash on the line. Besides, once we nail these guys, you’ll get it back, to the penny. Plus, you’ll have your guy there tracking it along with my crew. It’s a no-brainer.”

  “It’s a lot more than a no-brainer, Tank, and you know it,” Dee Dee said.

  “You’re right,” I said. “It’s a favor. From one friend to another.”

  Dee Dee stared at me for a moment and then shrugged. “If I’m going to risk my neck putting federal money in anyone’s hands, I can’t think of anyone better than an old wiseguy like Carmine.”

  “Thanks for the help, Dee Dee,” I said, heading for the door. “It’s great to be working with you again.”

  “Same goes for me, Tank,” Dee Dee said. “I want to bring these bastards down, and Bobby’s the best one to help you get that done. But there’s something you should know about him before you two get working on the case.”

  I turned to look at Dee Dee.

  “It was back when he was working his way through law school,” she said. “It didn’t last long, and from what I know it was never serious.”

  “What is it, Dee Dee?” I asked.

  “Bobby Gregson dated Connie,” Dee Dee said.

  19.

  GREENWICH VILLAGE PLAYGROUND

  THE NEXT DAY

  I LEANED AGAINST A CHAIN-LINK FENCE, Pearl in his wheelchair next to me, both of us watching Chris and five of his friends playing a game of three-on-three. Chris was dribbling the ball when he saw us standing there, and he waved and gave us both a smile. He then drove to the basket, stopped short, and passed the ball to a wide-open wiry kid a few inches taller. The kid sank a twelve-foot shot, turned, and did a Steph Curry shuffle as he collected high-fives from his two teammates.

  “Glad to see some things don’t ever change,” Pearl said. “Kids still imitate the great pros. Just like you and me did in our day.”

  “Yeah, but that kid’s Curry shuffle was a whole lot better than your Darryl Dawkins Chocolate Thunder dunk,” I said with a smile. “You came close to breaking your hand whenever you tried one of those.”

  “I couldn’t help myself,” Pearl said, grinning at the memory. “I loved those dunks—from Dr. J to Dominique Wilkins to Connie Hawkins. They were a ton of fun to watch and just as much fun to try and do.”

  “They had a Clyde Frazier name for you at the courts we played on, didn’t they?” I asked. “What the hell was it?”

  “Shuck and Stick,” Pearl said. “That was me. If I had a few more inches and a whole lot more talent, you’d have courtside seats at the Garden and I’d be playing out the string with my Knicks.”

  The ball came bouncing up against our end of the fence, and Chris ran over to fetch it. He picked up the ball and walked closer to us. “You up for a game of H-O-R-S-E?” he asked me. “Pearl can keep score.”

  I glanced over at Pearl, then turned back to Chris. “Are you sure you want to go up against me?” I asked. “I never lose at H-O-R-S-E. It’s my go-to game.”

  “Take it, Chris,” Pearl said. “It was his go-to game, back when Bloomberg was still mayor. His go-to has got up and gone.”

  Chris’s friends waved their goodbyes as I took the ball from him, dribbled toward the foul line, and sank a fifteen-foot jumper. “Your shot,” I said, bouncing the ball back to him.

  Chris made the shot, hitting nothing but net, and we were off. “You seem to have made quite a few friends in the neighborhood,” I said, getting ready to take my second shot.

  “I guess so,” Chris said. “But I think it might be better if I keep to myself more, at least until this thing with my dad’s firm is finished.”

  I stopped bouncing the ball and brought it up to the crook of my right arm. “You don’t need to do that,” I said. “Spending time with your friends is a good way to take a break from all the computer work you’re doing for us. Besides, we’re bringing in someone to help you with that. Free up some more of your time.”

  “It’s not about the work,” Chris said. He seemed suddenly hesitant, nervous, his eyes glancing up and down the quiet street.

  “What, then?” Pearl asked. He moved his chair closer to the far side of the basket.

  “It’s nothing,” Chris said. “I just thought it would be better if I spent more time digging into my dad’s firm. That’s all.”

  I went over to Chris, put my hand on his back, and walked him over to Pearl. “There’s more to it than that,” I said. “Did something happen? Something that me and Pearl should know about?”

  Chris lowered his head and then looked up at both me and Pearl. “I should have told you,” he said. “I was going to, but I didn’t want you to worry. You’re dealing with so much already.”

  “Told me what?” I asked.

  “It happened a couple of days ago,” Chris said, speaking slowly and in a low voice. “Two guys came to talk to me after our last game.”

  “Talk to you about what?”

  “My dad,” Chris said. “They didn’t say for sure, but I think they work for the same people my dad worked for.”

  “Why didn’t you tell one of us?” I asked. “Stuff like that happens, you can’t sit on it.”

  “I know,” Chris said. “I thought it was a one-time thing.”

  I looked into Chris’s eyes. “It’s my job to worry about you,” I said. “Pearl’s, as well. And for you to worry about us. We’re family, and the best way to stay family is to look out for one another. You’re the only nephew I have, and I don’t plan on losing you. I’ll do anything not to let that happen.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, either,” Chris said. “I love living with you, with Pearl. I love the guys and Connie and Carmine. When I first got here, I didn’t think I would last a week. Now I can’t imagine my life without you. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  “Let’s write it off as a rookie mistake,” I said. I reached over and held Chris close to my side.

  “Those two guys, they show up only that one time?” Pearl asked.

  “Just to talk to me, yeah,” Chris said. “But I’ve seen them drive around here a couple of times. They sit there in the car for a while, keep the engine running, and then pull out of the parking spot. I think they’re trying to scare me. See how long I can take it before I ask you to back off working the case.”

  “Is it working?” I asked.

  “I am scared,” Chris said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you and to Pearl. And if that means walking away from the firm, maybe that’s what you should do. I’ll have to learn to live with what happened to my mom and dad. Accept it. As long as you’re safe.”

  “Nobody’s walking away,” I said. “They’re bad people and they need to be chased down. That’s what me and Pearl have always done. It’s too late for us to stop now. I know you worry about us, and I love you for it. Not only for that but for a lot of other reasons.”

  “Same goes for me, little man,” Pearl said.

  “But know this, too,” I said. “If someone comes after you, it’s the same as if they were coming after me or after Pearl. There’s no difference. They reach for one of us, they’re reaching for all of us. And I will always be there for you. Always. Never forget that.”

  I let go of the basketball and watched it roll toward Pearl. “We still need to finish our game,” I said. “Unless you just want to call it now. I’ll take the win any way I can.”

  Chris looked at Pearl. “Do you think I can beat him?” he asked, smilin
g.

  “Shit, son, I can beat him, and I’m in a wheelchair,” Pearl said.

  So, for the next hour, Chris and I played two games of H-O-R-S-E and one of Twenty-one. And in that short period of time, he was allowed to be a kid again, in the company of men he loved and trusted. He was a teenager free of worry, enjoying a lazy summer morning.

  20.

  THE BROWNSTONE

  LATER THAT DAY

  MY TEAM WAS ASSEMBLED IN the large living room, some sitting on the couch, others sitting on folding chairs, two leaning against a wall. Pearl was in his wheelchair, next to the wine-barrel table, where the two case folders had been spread out. Connie had the restaurant send over large platters of food and was passing around plates filled with lasagna, broccoli rabe and sausage, and linguini in a white clam sauce. There was more than enough wine to go around and, for Chris and Pearl, all the root beer they could drink.

  I stood in the center of the room, took in the faces of the group, and got down to the business at hand. “We’ve never tried to take on two cases at the same time,” I said. “At least not two that were as difficult to crack as these will be.”

  Carmine rested his platter on the fireplace mantel, slapping a few crumbs off his shirt. “They’re hard cases, beyond a doubt,” he said. “But to put it in its simplest terms, we need to get one guy out of prison and then we need to toss an accounting firm in one. A break-out and a break-in, if you will.”

  “Chris started the computer work on the firm,” Carl said. “He found out as much as he could, but these guys know how to hide their tracks pretty well.”

  “We need to go in deeper,” I said. “Get into their database and break through their firewalls. Any equipment you need to make that happen, you got.”

  “With a firm like that, it’d be nice to have an inside man,” Bruno said. “Not somebody who works there. From what I read in those files, they are double careful about who they hire. Their background checks run deep. So our best bet is a client. Someone they want and someone they think they can trust.”