White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller (18 page)

“I don’t understand.”

“There’ll only ever be one try.” Lombardi smirked.

The cell door opened, and a guard looked at Lombardi and said, “Tony, Mr. Arturo wants to see the kid.”

Chapter 34

Todd was shocked. The man standing in front of him was fiftyish, no more than 5’ 6” and 140 pounds.
How can this guy be so feared? How come he’s the mob boss?
The cell was warm, and a fifty-inch television with the sound muted was showing the Patriots versus Broncos. There was a chessboard set up on a table, a chair on either side of it.

“I understand you play chess,” Arturo said.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Arturo.”

“Are you a good player?”

“I was the champion of my college,” Todd replied, carefully examining the small man. He had oily, black, thinning hair, sunken eyes, and a pockmarked face.
How did he ever get to be so powerful?

“Let’s play then,” Arturo said through tightly pursed lips.

Todd was surprised by Arturo’s skill and after three hours and four games of nearly silent chess the score was two games all. Todd could have won all four games but was cognizant of Lombardi’s warning.

“You’re a good player,” Arturo said. “I hadn’t lost a game for five years up until today. I’ve enjoyed your challenge, but we only have time for one more game.”

“Thank you, Mr. Arturo. You too are a skilled player.”

“Frank, call me Frank. We’re going to have many sessions like this while you’re my guest. If there is anything you want, anything, just tell Tony, and I’ll make sure you have it. He mentioned that you’re still worried about being attacked. Don’t be! I’ll have the man or men who try to harm you permanently looked after. Now, come on, let’s see who Castlebrough’s chess champion is.”

Todd was relieved that Arturo seemed to like him, but his little speech, delivered without emotion or passion, had made Todd uncomfortable. Arturo had spoken about killing with the same dispassion that normal people talked about going out to lunch. Fifty minutes later Todd looked up and said, “Check.” He had left one move for Arturo and knew that he was smart enough not to miss it.

Arturo stared at the board for what seemed like an eternity before he deftly moved his king and trapped Todd in the corner with a rook holding check and a knight securing mate.”

“Good move. Well played,” Todd said as he stood up.

“We must play again. Soon,” Arturo said, his face still as impassive as it had been when they first met. “Thank you, Todd.”

After four weeks of imprisonment, Todd had experienced no trouble in the showers or the yard. The prison population knew that he was being protected by the mob, and any attempt to harm him would result in fearful retribution. When the attack occurred, it was spontaneous in the mess hall. Todd was in line and had just been served his porridge and bread when he bumped into the guy who had led the rape of the Hispanic kid. The big mutt’s tray crashed to the floor. Porridge and orange juice spilled all over the floor.

“You fucking idiot,” he shouted and charged at Todd.

The big guy had moved no more than a yard when he seemed to freeze in slow motion, a blue plastic shank hanging out of his ear. It erupted in a bloody volcano, and he crashed to the ground. Whistles blew, and guards came from everywhere as prisoners scattered to their tables.

“Come on,” Lombardi said, as he grabbed Todd’s elbow and propelled him toward the table.

“You-you did-didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what? I didn't do anything,” Lombardi said, taking a mouthful of bread spread with margarine and jam. “Eat up. Your porridge is getting cold.”

“Is he… is he dead?”

“I fucking hope so.” Lombardi smirked. “I’ve been waiting for this day. They know you’re protected. Now they know what’s gonna happen to ‘em if they try and hurt you. Don’t be upset, kid. I just guaranteed your safety and mine. If I let anything happen to Mr. Arturo’s favorite inmate, I’d be dead. Fuck, I’ve known him for fifteen years, and I still don’t get to call him Frank.”

The guards were questioning prisoners at the tables closest to where the big guy was lying. Todd saw one of the guards take a towel and place it over his face. There was a lot of head shaking, and it was obvious the guards weren’t getting very far.

“What’ll you do if they find out it was you?”

Lombardi laughed. “They won’t. You’re the only one who saw anything, and you’re not even sure what you saw.”

Todd thought about it. Lombardi was right. The speed with which he had moved had been blinding, and Todd had seen nothing in his hand. It was only when the big guy had frozen that Todd had seen the shank protruding from his ear.

“Won’t there be an investigation?”

“For a turd like him?” Lombardi said, and then paused. “Yeah, maybe. It won’t go for long. Perhaps two days. The administration’s not too worried about pricks like that. Just make sure you keep your mouth closed and don’t breathe a word about what you saw.”

“What I saw? I didn’t see anything.”

Lombardi grinned. “You’re coming along nicely, kid. I’ll make an associate out of you yet.”

The grounds put forward by Todd’s lawyers on appeal were hardly convincing. They did not seek to exonerate him or introduce new evidence but argued that CFDs over U.S. stocks traded in international markets did not come under the jurisdiction of the U.S. security laws. They claimed the judge had misinterpreted the law at the first trial and that this was grounds for a new trial. It was a spurious argument that the assistant district attorney opposed. Strangely, she did not register any disapproval or disappointment when the judge ruled in Todd’s favor.

The morning of his release Todd had a visitor claiming to be one of his lawyers.

“You’re looking surprisingly well, Todd,” Aaron Lord said.

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

“I told you, we never anticipated the judge putting you in here. Anyhow, that’s water under the bridge. If you don’t want to do another eight years, you know what you have to do.”

“Yeah, and in case I forgot you came to remind me.”

“You’d do well to get rid of the chip off your shoulder. You got yourself into this mess. No one else is to blame. Maybe you ought to think about that.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that we located a suntanned Giovani alive and well in Hawaii,” Lord said.

“So he did trick me and was in with them. I never had to worry about my parents being killed. I feel like such a fool. Jack Elliot played me for a chump.”

“Yeah, it’s true Elliot played you for a sucker, but you were right to be concerned.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Giovani was working for a firm of stockbrokers that handled initial public offerings for small companies and raised seed capital for start-ups. He got involved with Elliot and provided him with some highly confidential information. Elliot paid him a million for the info and invested heavily in the biotech companies. They were all failures, and Elliot lost millions.”

“Shit. What did he do?”

“Needless to say he wasn’t very happy but Giovani had blown his million in the same biotech companies, so Elliot knew he’d hadn’t been conned. He read the riot act to Giovani and tried to get the million back to no avail. After that, they had no contact for several months.”

“Get to the point,” Todd said.

“Settle down. It gets interesting. Elliot contacted Giovani and told him that if he didn’t get out of New York, he was dead. It seems that one of Elliot’s bosses is particularly violent and doesn’t like losing millions. That’s when Elliot came up with the idea of apparently killing Giovani in front of you. He could then tell this violent individual that Giovani was dead and that you, having witnessed his murder, were scared shitless. Worked well, didn’t it? Giovani was on a plane to Hawaii the following day, and you agreed to do what Elliot wanted.”

“Who are Elliot’s bosses?”

“We still don’t know,” Lord replied

“Are you going to charge Giovani? Have you brought him back to the mainland?”

“He’s small fry and doesn’t know much. He’s safe where he is but if we charge Elliot, we’ll bring him back as a witness. Our office in Hawaii grilled him and, like you, he has no idea who’s pulling Elliot’s strings. They’re the crooks we want to get our hands on, and you’re going to help us do it.”

“What an idiot I was.”

“Don’t beat up on yourself. You were right to be worried about your parents. Giovani said that he sensed even Elliot was scared. His fear infected Giovani, and he couldn’t get on a plane fast enough.” Lord smiled grimly.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Let’s forget about Giovani and talk about you. We’ve arranged for you to stay at the New York Hostel in Upper West Side for three nights after you get out. Then you’re moving into a room above a delicatessen in Chinatown,” Lord said sliding five hundred dollars and a piece of paper across the table. “Memorize the address. It’s cheap and nasty. Rent’s payable weekly, and it’s all you can afford. There’ll be an ad in
The New York Times
in two days. It’s being held for you.” 

“How am I gonna call?”

“You’ll get your cell phone back when you’re released. It’s paid for thirty days. You’ll have to start looking for a job in a hurry. You won’t get one, but you have to try. When you’ve been rejected everywhere, you’ll walk past Sammy’s Fine Cuisine on Canal Street, and there’ll be a sign in the window looking for waiters. You’ll apply and get an immediate start. Welcome back to the workforce.” Lord grinned.

“Thanks.” Todd sneered. “How am I gonna contact you?”

“Vanessa Hodge has agreed to help. She made it clear at your trial that she supported you and bore no grudges. It’s natural that you’d stay friends with her. It’s perfect.”

“Fuck! Did you tell her how dangerous it’ll be? They’ll be watching her like a hawk. How’s she gonna contact you? I don’t like it. I don’t like it one little bit. Who else knows of her involvement?”

“She knows the risks. You may not believe this, but she wants to help you. Your old boss knows what’s happening and no one else. Don’t worry, we’re going to be looking after her.”

“Yeah, just like you were gonna look after me in prison.” Todd sneered.

“You know what you have to do, Todd. We didn’t put you in this position. You should be grateful that we’re giving you a way out.”

“Grateful? Jesus! I could end up dead. Yeah, I’m real grateful all right.”

Lord shook his head as he got to his feet. “I’ll be seeing you.”

After four months, three days and seventeen hours, Todd finished packing his meager belongings and prepared to leave Castlebrough. He was one of the very few young inmates who would leave in the same condition that he’d been in when imprisoned.

He thanked Tony Lombardi, but he’d never really got a handle on him. Lombardi smiled with his mouth, but his eyes were always cold, and Todd knew he was a cold-blooded killer.

For the first time, Frank Arturo displayed some emotion but it was not sadness. He told Todd he was disappointed that he would not have anyone of Todd’s caliber to play chess and cards with. He had challenged Todd to one final game of chess and Todd had briefly toyed with the notion of winning before sanity prevailed. It had been a hard-fought game of over fifty moves, and when it was over, Arturo said, “I’ll miss our games, Todd. You’ve made the time go faster.”

“I can’t thank you enough for looking after me, Frank, and I too have enjoyed playing against you.”

“I got paid,” Arturo said, “but if you find yourself back in here after your retrial, I’ll take care of you for nothing. That should make you feel a little better if you lose.”

“Did Jack Elliot pay you?”

“I’m not saying who paid me, but I will say that it was a sizeable amount. It’s nice to have friends like that, but it’s better to have friends like me,” Arturo said, handing Todd a small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. “Memorize this and if you get into trouble call it. You are one of the very few to have it.”

For the first time, Todd shook the wiry, little mobster’s hand and was surprised by the strength of his grasp. “Thank you, Frank.” 

Chapter 35

Dermott Becker had taken numerous calls from Brock Borchard about Todd Hansen, and they’d become more frequent when he’d found that Todd was about to be released.

“How come he’s getting out? What’s the appeal about, Dermott? What new evidence does he have?”

Becker sighed. “There’s no new evidence. It’s an appeal to the Federal Court challenging the law.”

“I tell you, I don’t like it. He’s a loose end who could point the finger right at Jack Elliot and then where will we be? Why run the risk?”

“You’re overreacting, Brock. He hasn’t breathed a word, and he’s not going to.”

There was a long pause. “You haven’t been able to tell me why he was protected in Castlebrough. Who arranged it? The FBI or the SEC?”

Becker laughed. “I can’t imagine Frank Arturo getting into bed with government authorities. It wasn’t them. Why? Did you try and have him wacked?”

“No, I toed the party line, but that doesn’t mean I liked it. You tell me why the kid had such a powerful protector?”

“I’ve wondered about that myself. The kid’s former boss is a close friend of Max Lustig and Lustig’s connected. Perhaps he arranged the kid’s protection?”

“Fuck Lustig! I’m getting sick of hearing his name. Anyhow, we don’t have to worry about Arturo now that the kid’s out. I’ve got a bad feeling about him. I think we should arrange for him to meet with an accident.”

“No! There’s no point. If he was going to talk, he would’ve have done it by now. Don’t worry, we’re watching him. He’s not your concern, Brock. You make sure you don’t do anything that we’ll live to regret.”

The hostel was on Amsterdam Avenue, and Todd was shown to a dormitory with six double bunk beds. He put his bag in the locker allocated to him and went to the community bathroom and had a shower and shave. There were three guys lounging around the dormitory and Todd wanting privacy, took a ten-minute walk to Central Park.

He sat down on a vacant bench and as he’d been instructed, called Doug Lechte. He asked him if there was any chance of a job with the firm or any of its clients. He knew what the answer would be. Then he got on the internet and started looking for employment agencies and job websites. He was only interested in agencies or companies that he could call and make appointments to see. Two hours later, he’d managed to set up eight appointments in the next two days for accounting and administration positions. It was late afternoon, and he was feeling hungry when he started to make his way back to the hostel. Stopping at a hamburger shop he took a seat at the window facing the street and ordered two burgers with everything and a chocolate shake. He didn’t lift his eyes but noticed the unobtrusive dark haired man sit down in a cubicle, order coffee and bury his head in
The New York Times.

It was 8:30 when Todd got back to the hostel, and there were nine men in the dormitory. Some were talking while others were reading. All the bottom bunks were taken which didn’t worry Todd. He nodded to a few of the men and climbed the ladder to the comparative safety that an upper bunk provided. It was noisy, and the lights were on but compared to Castlebrough it was a haven. Five minutes later, he was asleep.

The following morning Todd showered before seven o’clock and dressed in the only suit he had with him. It was only a short walk to the Manhattan business district, and he stopped for a light breakfast and coffee. His first appointment was with a firm of employment consultants where he was handed an application form to complete before the interview. In his employment history, he left the last four months blank. One of the first questions the consultant asked him was what he’d been doing during that period. When Todd replied that he had been wrongly imprisoned and that he was out on appeal, the consultant’s face collapsed. Ten minutes later, he was shown out of the consultant’s offices with the assurance that they would submit his application to the client and would let him know if he was successful. The three other appointments that day were nearly identical, and Todd knew they’d be no different the following day.

The call was brief. “You’re having trouble getting a job, kid. Do you need any money?” Elliot asked.

“I wouldn’t take money from you if you were the last person on earth,” Todd replied.

“You say that now. Wait until you find out that no one’s going to employ you. You’re a convict, and there’s a good chance you’re going back in.”

“Why do you want to help me?”

“You never said a word. You never gave me up. That’s why.”

“You would’ve killed my parents,” Todd said, and then paused. “I should thank you for having me looked after in Castlebrough, but I’m not going to. I never should’ve been in there, and if it weren't for you, I wouldn’t have been.”

“Have it your way, kid,” Elliot said, and Todd heard dial tone.

Todd smiled. Grinich had told him that if Elliot was still interested he’d make contact within seventy-two hours of being released.

The apartment above the delicatessen was a grimy studio with a tiny kitchen and sink. There was a rusted fridge, a kettle and a few knives and forks. The bathroom defied physics but somehow comprised a shower, toilet, mirror and basin in a space that you couldn’t swing a cat. There was mold on the walls and tiles and the shower curtain was falling apart. The single bed was hard but when Todd pulled the covers back the sheets were clean, and he breathed a sigh of relief. There was a small three drawer wooden cabinet next to the bed. The once green carpet was threadbare, and the old television didn’t look to be any larger than twelve inches. The smell of chicken, ham and other meats permeated the sparsely furnished room. Todd tore a piece of A4 from the pad in his suitcase and using the cabinet as a desk, started to jot down his expenses and work out how much he needed to earn. He grimaced and wondered if he could sink any lower.

The food in Sammy’s Fine Cuisine was anything but fine. Sammy was an overweight, boisterous Italian, who loved shouting at his beleaguered employees. Todd filled in a simple one-page application form, and Sammy spent less than five minutes interviewing him at the back of the kitchen.

“Here’s the thing,” Sammy shouted. “You wanna work or not? Yo, ya wastin’ my time here.”

“I’ve never waited tables before, but yes, I’ll work hard,” Todd said. “I need this job.”

“Okay, you can unofficially start tonight. Learn the ropes,” Sammy said. “Then you can officially start tomorrow night. Hours are from five until two, Monday to Saturday. You’ll be on four bucks an hour and ya get to keep your tips. There’s none of this splitting and sharing bullshit. In a good week, ya can make six hundred bucks.”

Sammy looked around the kitchen before spotting a tall, gray-haired man. “Jimmy,” he shouted, “get over here. Meet Chad; he’s our new waiter. Show him the ropes.”

“Todd, my name’s Todd,” Todd said. He had the answer to his rhetorical question about whether he could sink any lower.

The meeting to consider partnership admission nominations in Montgomery Hastings & Pierce was normally a sedate, formal affair. It was unusual for any partner to nominate more than one manager or senior associate. It was only after the nominations were in that the lobbying began.

Doug Lechte nominated Vanessa as he’d done in meetings in the two previous years. Two other partners nominated managers responsible to them and then Phillip Cromwell rose and said, “I have three outstanding nominees. They are hardworking, diligent, and their families are highly respected. I can confidently say, they will never bring the firm into disrepute.”

“Three?” Lechte said. “You can’t nominate three and what does their families being respected have to do with making partner? She’s not seeking membership at your yacht club.” Lechte knew what Cromwell was doing. He was attempting to change the balance of partners ensuring that he’d control a two-thirds majority.

“There’s nothing in the deed of partnership that precludes me from nominating multiple partners. My nominees are outstanding and will enhance the reputation of the firm.”

“Hear, hear,” one of Cromwell’s acolyte’s said.

“My fellow partners,” Cromwell said, “I would also like to advise that we have been successful in winning the auditing and consulting work for Strauss Robinson. As you know, they are one of the largest and most rapidly expanding legal firms in the country.”

“Well done, Phillip,” one of the partners said.

Another asked, “How did you manage to win their business?”

“I had a little help,” Cromwell said. “As you know, the mayor and I are good friends, and he’s been actively singing the firm’s praises. He knows the principals of Strauss Robinson and put in a good word for us. I told you that the gratis audit of The Disabled Children’s Fund for the mayor’s wife would be beneficial.”

“Wasn’t Strauss Robinson recently sued for sex discrimination? Weren’t some of the female partners harassed and derided?” Lechte asked. “I’m not sure this is the type of client we should associate with.”

“That’s just sour grapes, Doug. They settled the matter out of court to the satisfaction of all parties. The mayor has personally used Strauss Robinson and here you are seeking to belittle them. You're very churlish,” Cromwell said.

Numerous hear-hears echoed around the table.

Phillip Cromwell smiled. With the admission of his new partners, he would have the numbers to rid himself of the irksome Lechte and his favorite employee, Vanessa Hodge.