The Punishing Game (29 page)

Before getting into his rental, Boff said he had to make a phone call and walked far enough away so they couldn’t hear. With his back to them, he pulled the piece of paper with Yusef’s cell number out of his pocket and punched in the numbers.

“Yusef, this is Boff. I’ll be at the scene in about ten minutes. I suggest you call the negotiator when I get there and ask to speak only to me. Just me. I might be able to help you.”

How?

“You know what I do for a living. Use your imagination.”

He hung up, walked back to the car, and got in.

“Who’d you call?” Cullen asked.

“I wanted to let my wife know I was okay.”

On the ride back to Scarsdale, Cullen told Bellucci what he’d done in Jermain’s house. Duly impressed, Bellucci high-fived him, then yelled in Boff’s ear, “Old man, he outsmarted you!”

Boff simply laughed it off. “Junior has a long way to go before he can do that.”

“Is that so?” Cullen sounded pleased with himself. “Then how come you didn’t think of what I did with Jermain? And don’t tell me you were just about to suggest it.”

“Whatever. We still have a problem to resolve. Now that you’re on a roll, do you have any brilliant ideas about how to get Yusef and Solis out?”

Cullen rubbed his bruised cheek again and shook his head. “Not a clue.”

“I thought so,” Boff said. “Anybody can hit a three-point shot once in a while. To do it consistently, that’s a whole different ballgame. You took a lucky shot and it went in. Before you go comparing yourself to the Great Boffer, you’ll have to string a few of those together. Now it just so happens that I have a hunch I’ll be the one to end this.”

Damiano looked at Boff.

“No point asking, right?”

Boff said nothing.

When they arrived back on the scene, Boff and Damiano got out of the car and walked over to Schlosberg, who said, “Yusef and Solis are refusing to come out unless their demands are met. The SWAT team is getting ready to breach.”

At the same time, Captain Lenahan walked out of the command center and stormed over to Boff. His face was angry and red. “How the hell did you get those hostages out?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” Boff said. He pointed at Cullen, still in the car. “The kid did.”

Cullen waved to Lenahan, who was clearly pissed at being upstaged. The captain turned back to Boff.

“Simms just told us he’ll only speak to you. Follow me and do only as instructed.”

Boff winked at Damiano, then walked to the command center
with the captain. Lenahan stopped before opening the door and turned to Boff again. “Just for the record,” he said, “you make me sick. Private investigators are the lowest life form on earth.”

Boff smiled. “Actually, captain, the lowest life forms on earth are, in this order,
lawyers, doctors, FBI agents, and priests. I can probably find a spot for you on my top ten list, though, if you’d like.”

Lenahan poked him hard in the chest. Boff batted the finger away.

“You try anything cute inside,” the captain began, “and I’ll cuff you. Got it?”

“By all means, Captain. Lead the way.”

Once inside, Lenahan walked over to his negotiator, who was sitting at a desk with a microphone. “Vacate the seat, Tony,” he said.

Tony looked surprised. “I do something wrong?” he asked.

“No. I’ll explain later.”

With a shrug, Tony slid off the chair. Lenahan turned to Boff. “Sit.” Boff didn’t move.
“You have a hearing problem?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then sit.”

“I don’t want to use the mike,” Boff said. “I’ll use my cell.”

“Like hell you will,” Lenahan said. “We all want to hear what’s said between you and Yusef.
And
record it.”

Boff stood his ground. “Sorry. I don’t want it recorded
in case this op goes south and lawsuits are filed. And you shouldn’t want it recorded, either. Let’s not forget that I’m a civilian and a private investigator, one who once helped Raymond Bulgar get acquitted for allegedly paralyzing one of your own. I’m betting you’d have a hard time explaining my involvement to your superiors.”

Frowning, Lenahan gave that some thought. “Then put your phone on speaker,” he finally said.

“Nope.”

The captain looked mad enough to punch Boff. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because,” Boff said calmly, “I don’t want to take the risk of anybody—especially you, Captain—interrupting my conversation and pissing Yusef off. Yusef asked for me, he gets just me. Or else I’m out of here.”

The negotiator stepped forward. “Captain, who the hell
is
this guy?”

“You don’t want to know,” Lenahan said through clenched teeth.

As if he were short on time and had to be somewhere else, Boff looked at his watch and frowned. The captain’s men, meanwhile, were all staring at their superior officer, apparently waiting for him to take charge of this whacko. Instead, Lenahan nodded his okay to Boff, who took out his cell phone and hit redial. When Yusef picked up, Boff turned his back on the captain before speaking.

“This is Boff,” he said into the phone. He listened to Yusef for close to a minute without saying anything.

Lenahan exploded. “What. The. Fuck. Is. He.
Saying?
”

Boff turned to the captain, put one finger to his lips, and said, “Shhh.” Then he gave Lenahan his back again and spoke to Yusef.

“I’m really flattered that you’re offering me three times my normal fee,” he said. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn you down, Yusef. I hate losing in court. And you, my friend, have zero chance of winning. You’re going away for the rest of your life, so be sure when you get to prison that someone mails you a steady supply of Preparation H. …. Yusef, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say. I’m only trying to help. …. Sure, you can hire somebody else. But if I can’t unmake this case, nobody else can. … So here’s some free advice, something I rarely give because I have a family to feed. Surrender now. If you don’t, they’re going to breach, and then you’ll never see your nephew again.”

Boff listened to some more from Yusef.

“I see. … Uh huh. Is that your final answer? … Yes, I’ll pass your words along.” He closed his phone.

“Well?” Lenahan looked ready to spit bullets.

“He said, and I quote, ‘Tell that cocksucker’—I believe he means you, Captain—‘I’m going to take him and his men with me to hell.’”

Lenahan lost it. “That’s it! This is over!” He turned to Mulvaney. “Requesting permission to breach.”

Mulvaney nodded grimly. “Do it!”

With one final smile at the infuriated captain, Boff left the command center and walked back to Damiano, who was leaning against the rental.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Yusef said he wasn’t coming out. They’re going to breach.”

Boff got behind the wheel of the car just as the SWAT team kicked into gear. Two of them lined up, side-by-side in the street, holding ballistic shields. Right behind them was a man with a two-foot breaching ram. Eight more team members lined up next in tight formation. Lenahan walked over to his men.

“On your signal, Captain,” one of the shield holders
said.

“GO!”

Breaking into a crouched trot, the SWAT team headed for the house. Suddenly Yusef opened the front door. He was unarmed. Seeing the SWAT team, he froze momentarily, then hustled back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Boff turned to Cullen and Bellucci. “Boys,” he said, “it’ll be over in minutes.”

“What did Yusef say to you?” Cullen asked.

“That he was ready to surrender.”

“Then why are they breaching?”

Boff said nothing. Seemingly without a care in the world, he opened his CD case, popped in Fats Domino’s “
Ain’t That a Shame,” and turned up the volume.

The SWAT team rammed through the front door. Stun grenades were heard. Then a burst of shots. The firefight lasted a couple minutes. After that, nothing but silence. A few minutes later, all the SWAT team members came out alive. 

“Okay, Boff,” Cullen said, “it’s done. Let’s go. Mikey and I have to get to the gym. I have a rematch with Jermain to get ready for.”

Boff shook his head. “Not yet. I’m waiting for the body bags.”

“Why?”

“I want to take pictures of them.”

As they waited, Cullen thought about what he had just seen. Then it clicked. He turned to Boff. “You lied to the police!”

“Me? How could you say that?”

“Yusef told you he’d surrender. We saw him open the door. But you told the cops he wouldn’t give up.”

“Why would I do that?” Boff asked, innocence incarnate.

“To punish him. Just like you did with Julio’s killers.”

Boff shrugged. “You got a problem with that?”

Cullen shook his head. “None whatsoever.”

Bellucci was looking stunned by what he had just heard. “Man, you guys are a couple fucking vigilantes.”

Boff turned to him. “Justice is where you find it, Mikey. More often than not, it isn’t in a courtroom. Seventy percent of the felons I successfully defend are guilty as sin. What does that tell you? Nino Biaggi just got his justice. Case closed.”

Westchester crime scene personnel were inside the house for forty-five minutes before they came out with four Scarsdale cops, who were carrying body bags containing Yusef and Solis. The cops laid the bags down on the lawn. A few minutes later, Schlossberg and his agents came out carrying the suitcases with the heroin.

Boff turned to Cullen. “Does your cell phone have a camera?”

“Yes.”

“Give it to me.”

“Can’t your phone take pictures?”

“Of course,” Boff said. “But I want to use yours so you have the pictures to show McAlary.”

Cullen handed his phone over. Boff popped out of the car, walked across the lawn, and snapped several shots of the body bags from different angles. Then he turned to a SWAT team member standing nearby.

“Can you unzip the tops of the bags?” he asked.

“Why?”

“I want the satisfaction of seeing them dead.”

“Sorry. No can do.”

As Boff headed back to his car, he saw that the TV reporters were threatening to storm the barricades. Schlosberg, Lenahan, Damiano, and Mulvaney walked to the police tape to talk to the horde.

Getting back into his car, Boff turned on the ignition and put it in gear.

“Time for us to ride off into the sunset,” he said.

As soon as Cullen and Bellucci entered the gym that night, McAlary ordered them to
a bench. He looked from one fighter to the other.

“Okay, Danny,” he finally said, “let’s hear it.”

Cullen told him what had gone down, more or less, conveniently omitting what he had done to Jermain and Boff’s lie to the Westchester cops. The trainer was studying Cullen’s eyes carefully the whole time he listened. He looked clearly skeptical about what he was hearing. When Cullen had finished his story, he took out his phone and showed McAlary the body bag photos Boff had taken.

The trainer said nothing for another minute. Then he pointed to Cullen’s face. “And how’d you get that damn bruise on your cheek?”

With the best poker face he could muster, Cullen said, “I tripped and hit my head on the pavement.”

McAlary gave him a wry look. “What aren’t you telling me, Danny?”

“Nothing. Honest. I told you everything.”

McAlary turned to Bellucci. “What’s he leaving out, Mikey?”

“It’s just like he said, Coach.”

McAlary shook his head. “You two coordinated your stories before you got here,” he said. “Why do I get the feeling, Danny, that you and Boff did something to help fill those body bags.”

Cullen feigned surprise. “Me? I was locked in Boff’s car with Bellucci the whole time.”

“That so, Mikey?”

“Yup.”

Shaking his head, McAlary walked over to a window and looked down at the street. Without turning around, he said, “Michelle has decided she doesn’t want to sell the gym. She asked me if I would move to
Brooklyn and run it for her.”

Cullen looked startled. “Really? Wow! Are you gonna do it?”

The trainer didn’t answer right away, just kept staring at the street. Curious about what he was looking at, Cullen and Bellucci walked over and looked out the window with him.

“See those people?” McAlary said pointing down at the sidewalk. “They’re a mixed bag, but they’re part of community. Same as you guys are here in the gym. This street reminds me of
Belfast. Always crowded with people on the go, each with their own story.” He turned to his boxers. “The only people I see out my windows in Las Vegas are neighbors coming home from work or taking out the trash and walking their dogs.”

Sensing where McAlary was going with this, Cullen nodded. “This is a lot more interesting,” he said. 

“That it is. Let’s sit down.” Back on the bench, he continued. “Michelle told me she’d use money from Nino’s will to build a third floor over the gym for use as a health club.”

Cullen nodded. “Yeah, you could make extra money doing personal training there,” he said.

“My thought exactly. Michelle also wanted to make the gym more modern. I told her its fine the way it is.” The trainer looked off, apparently waiting for Cullen’s reaction.

“Ryan,” he said, “if Kate agrees, then you should move here. I’m sure you can find a good trainer for me back in Vegas.”

McAlary turned back to Cullen. “How do I say this?” he began. He took a breath. “When you brought Julio to me, Danny, it changed my whole life. My career was over, not much money was coming in. Now I have another champion in the making.” He laid a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “Son, I won’t move here without you.”

Cullen didn’t have a clue what to say to
that
. Moving to Brooklyn would be a
huge
lifestyle change. And he didn’t like change. Change was threatening. He had to admit, though, that he really liked this gym and the street kids that came to it. It reminded him of the old gym his father used to train in. If McAlary moved here, it would eventually bring him a lot of new fighters and boost his career.
All things considered
, Cullen finally said to himself,
this change would be a good one
.

He looked at his trainer. “If you really want to come, Ryan…well, then, I’m with you. You and Kate are the only family I’ve got.”

“Hey!” Bellucci butted in. “What about Mikey?”

Cullen grinned. “Yeah, you’re family, too, Brother Mikey. Ryan, did you check out the schools here for
Phoenix?”

“Kate did. The city has some of the best schools in
America. More important to me, Phoenix would have to mix with people of all colors and religious beliefs. She’s a very curious young girl, as you have no doubt noticed. A lot of the time, she’s bored and unchallenged in Las Vegas schools. Brooklyn would be good for her.”

Cullen felt himself more and more drawn in. “Uhhh, if we moved here, where would we live?”

“I talked with Alphonso,” McAlary said. “He told me he could help us find places at below-market value.”

Payback
, Cullen thought. Boff must have gotten Damiano to agree not to blow the whistle on him. There was a time when letting Alphonso off the hook would’ve bothered Cullen. But not now. Being around Boff had changed the way he felt about certain things. He wasn’t sure if that was good. And didn’t really care. He turned to Bellucci. “If I can get a two-bedroom place, I want you to live with me.”

“Awesome! I hate staying with my grandparents. All they do is watch TV and listen to Sinatra records.”

McAlary’s face broke into a rare ear-to-ear smile. “Danny, you don’t know how much this means to me. You’re a great friend. Even if you are a pain in the ass to train.”

“Since we’re all moving here,” Cullen said with a sly look on his face, “maybe I should ask Boff to move, too?”

McAlary’s grin disappeared. “Don’t you dare be thinking about doing that!”

Cullen laughed. “Just kidding.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” McAlary said. “That man’s a wanker, but I’ll give him this: he fights to the finish and wins. Like Julio did. Now how about we get down to work?”

He looked at Bellucci. “When did the doctor say you could begin sparring? And don’t lie to me.”

“A few more days,” Bellucci reluctantly replied. “But, Coach, the wrist feels fine now. Really. Trust me.”

After a moment, McAlary said, “Ah, well, what do doctors know, anyway? You and Danny are going to spar.”

“Yessss!”

As Cullen and Bellucci headed for the locker area to change, McAlary walked over to the speed bag, punched it hard in triumph, and then looked up at the ceiling.

“We won the rematch, Nino, by a knockout!”