White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller (20 page)

Chapter 38

It had been almost a year since Karen Deacon received the call offering to sell the CDs for ten million and in the meantime she hadn’t heard a word. Despite this, she had never relaxed, knowing it was only a matter of time before the blackmailers approached her again. After returning home from dropping the kids off at school, she checked her mailbox. She sorted through the envelopes knowing that they were either bills or junk mail until she came to a slightly larger plain envelope. Details of the sender were blank and as she tore it open, a photo fell out. She picked it up and a wave of nausea almost overcame her. It was a disgusting pic and the date in the right-hand corner was the day that she had spent the afternoon at the Astor Motel with Devlin.

The call from Dermott Becker was opportune, and Elliot said, “The easiest way to keep an eye on the kid is to give him a job in the club. Besides, I could use some help keeping the books. He might even be able to help with collections.”

“How do you know you can trust him,” Becker asked.

“I don’t, but he didn’t breathe a word at his trial because he’s in fear of what we might do to his folks. He tried to get a job with his old firm and got shut down. He’s tried employment agencies and got nowhere. He’s washing dishes and sweeping floors in some fast food joint in Chinatown. He’s desperate for a half decent job. And get this, he thinks that I arranged to have him protected in Castlebrough.”

“Jack, I’m not worried about him. He knows you, Ferguson and Fraser, and he thinks he saw a murder that never happened. He doesn’t know much at all. Employing him might be a risk because he’ll see and learn things that he might use as leverage to get his sentence reduced.”

Elliot paused. “I can keep an eye on him. He’s desperate and thinks he’s going back inside. If he snaps, there’s a bigger risk of him cutting a deal with the FBI and giving them identikits of Ferguson, Fraser and me. Ferguson’s weak, and it wouldn’t take long for the Fibbies to break him down. He’d give me up in the blink of an eye and might even blab about Giovani. Besides, do you want that nutcase, Borchard, knowing you didn’t get rid of him?”

“He didn’t talk at his trial and if he’s as scared as what you say he is he’s not going to go snap.”

“I don’t understand your concern, Dermott. Nearly everyone who works for you is an ex-con. What makes the kid different?”

“He was in prison, but he’s not a criminal. We set him up. The others all committed crimes of their own volition. There’s a big difference,” Becker said. “Look, if you think you can control him by giving him a job, then do it. But, Jack, I want you to watch him like a hawk. If anything goes wrong, it’ll be on your head.”

Sammy’s was packed, and Sammy was screaming. He ran the restaurant on a very simple philosophy that so long as customers were spending, they could stay all night. It could be food, booze or coffee so long as it is involved dollars coming out their pockets and into his. He loved nights like tonight when customers were lined up waiting for tables. However, he hated what he called the nuff nuffs who’d finished their meals, weren’t spending and were just sitting at their tables talking.

“Did you enjoy your meals?” he’d shout. “Can I get you anything else? No? Well, I’ll just get your coats so you can be on your way.” There was nothing subtle about Sammy.

Todd’s proficiency as a waiter improved every day and besides carrying five plates he could now memorize the meals for all of the tables that he was waiting on. He was friendly, efficient, and the customers liked him. The previous week he had earned nearly seven hundred dollars with tips, making him Sammy’s highest paid waiter. Todd hadn’t noticed the two men in the line until one of them said, “Hello, Todd, how about getting us a table? I’m a generous tipper.”

“What do you want? What are you doing here?”

“I thought your manners might have improved after your stint in the joint,” Ferguson said.

“Todd, Todd,” Sammy shouted while he wiped down a table. “Bring ‘em over here.”

As Todd showed them to their table, Fraser smirked and said, “So this is restaurant administration, is it? Looks like you’ve got plenty of room to climb the ladder.”

Ferguson guffawed loudly. “What part’s administration? The writing down of the orders.”

“What do you want?” Todd asked.

“Two T-bones, well done, with fries, and a Jim Beam Black for me and a Budweiser for my friend,” Ferguson said. “Oh, and the boss wants to see you at midday on Saturday.”

“Well, I don’t want to see him.”

“Kid, we know you asked Ronny for a job, and he said no. The boss said he might have something for you,” Fraser said.

“That’s if you can drag yourself away from restaurant administration,” Ferguson said, and both men roared with laughter.

“He might even pay you enough so that you can afford to leave those palatial digs you’re staying in.” Fraser grinned.

“Yeah, you could hardly take that hot little girlfriend back to that dive,” Ferguson added.

“I’ll get your meals underway,” Todd said, hurrying back to the kitchen. Elliot had taken the bait.

Hillary Rodham High School had just finished for the day and Sally Deacon stood at the entrance waiting for her mom to pick her up. A woman got out of her SUV and walked over to the front gates saying, “Hello, Sally, can you give this to your mom?”

Sally didn’t recognize the woman but guessed she was one of her mom’s many friends. “Sure,” she said, taking the small, plain envelope.

There were always circulars and notices coming from the school, and Karen gave no thought to the envelope as she threw it into her bag. It was only as she was going to bed that she remembered it. As she tore the envelope open, she fought back a gasp when she saw Devlin Cooper’s photo bearing his signature and the message,
good luck.
There was no note, just the photo, but its intent was clear. Karen knew that the next envelope might be for Sally.

Karen had been steeling herself for when the blackmailers would raise their ugly heads again and had been firm in her resolve to resist them. As she looked at the photo of Devlin, she knew that she was helpless. The thought of her kids ever seeing pics of she and Devlin was too much. She glanced in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, and she had lines that hadn’t been there a year ago. She slipped between the sheets and turned the lights off knowing that there was no way she would be able to sleep.

Chapter 39

Todd was purposely late for his appointment with Elliot and did not arrive at the betting parlor until 12:30. A smoky haze permeated the crowded room, and Elliot was standing in front of a monitor talking to two swarthy looking goons wearing ill-fitting suits. All the tellers were working, and Todd got in line and placed a bet on the first at Aqueduct. When he turned around from the window, Elliot said, “Where’s the iPad? Don’t tell me you’re betting without your system?”

“Your thugs said that you wanted to see me. I’m sure it wasn’t about my betting system.”

“I thought you might have lost your smart mouth in the joint.”

“I might have if you hadn’t had me looked after. I don’t know why you did it. It must be one of few decent things you’ve ever done. I’d thank you if you hadn’t of been the one who me put in there.”

There was a huge roar followed by “yeah, yeah,” and a group of men high-fived and patted each other on the back.

“Let’s go out the back where it’s quiet,” Elliot said.

Todd looked up at a screen as the horses were being led into the gates. “That’s my race. Hang on, I want to watch it.”

“Who are you on?”

“Glistening Jewel.”

Two minutes later Elliot said, “Well done, kid.”

Todd’s demeanor didn’t change, but the five hundred he had just won would come in very handy.

Ronny was in his office, and Todd nodded to him as Elliot made himself comfortable in the adjoining office.

“Do you own this place?” Todd asked.

“No. We do some business with Ronny, and he helps us out when he can.”

“Yeah, I know. Setting up stooges like me.”

“What we do with Ronny doesn’t concern you. I know you’re doing it hard, and I want to help you. Even if you get off the insider trading charges, which you won’t, you’re never going to get a job with a reputable business again. The minute you went inside Castlebrough the chances of ever getting honest employment disappeared.”

“I’ve got an honest job now.”

“Yeah, washing dishes, sweeping floors and jumping to the screams of that lunatic, Sammy. Some job. You’re never going to get a job in accounting. For that, you have to be trusted, and no one’s gonna trust an ex-con. I’m different, though. I know you’re honest and just caught a bad break.”

“A bad break.” Todd sneered. “Is that what you call it? You have a real way with words.”

“Kid, I’m starting to have second thoughts. Do you want to hear what I have to say or are you going to be a smartass? If it’s the latter, you can fuck off now.”

Todd hung his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I owe you for what you did for me in prison. Go on.”

“That’s better.” Elliot smiled. “I’ve got a club in Queens. Strictly legit on the surface. However, it’s also the front for a sweet coke operation and small finance business.”

“The place I was taken to blindfolded?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“What makes you think I won’t go straight to the cops and give you up?”

“You didn’t at your trial, and you won’t now, not unless you want to attend your folk’s funeral, that is. And−”

“Leave my parents out of it!”

“The mouse that roared. Okay, okay. Here’s the deal. You don’t realize it, but you need me far more than I need you.”

Todd laughed. “I’m not going to sell drugs for you or get into loan sharking. I’d rather wash dishes.”

“Hear me out,” Elliot said. “You won’t be directly involved. The books are a bit of a mess. You’d keep the records and maybe help out with collections. I think the club’s carrying too much booze in stock. You could look at that, too. You know, streamline operations.”

“You want me to collect loans from druggies? No way. I’m not getting bashed or worse by some lunatic.”

“Kid, look at yourself. A decent wind would blow you over. I wouldn’t send you out to collect debts without protection. It’s just that you have a nice way about you, and you might be able to collect without the normal grief. Heavying customers is bad for business.”

“If I say yes, what’s in it for me?”

“Ah, now you’re talking. I want you nearby so part of the deal is a two bedroom, fully furnished apartment about two hundred yards from the club. Somewhere you’d be proud to take that girlfriend of yours. Oh, how come she forgave you?”

“She knew I didn’t set her up, and she thinks gambling is a sickness just like drug addiction or cancer. She thinks the victim has no control over his actions.”

“Jeez, you got lucky with her. In addition to the apartment, I’ll pay you eight hundred bucks cash a week. Before you bullshit me, I know Sammy’s paying you about two hundred after tax, and you’re living off tips. If you want, you can have all your meals at the club on the house. What do you say?”

“If you make it a thousand, it’s a deal.”

“You’ve sure got chutzpah, kid, but I’m not negotiating. Take it or leave it.”

“You’re so charming, Jack. How can I refuse?”

Elliot stood up and extended his hand. “For the last time, lose the smart mouth. There are a lot of guys at the club who aren’t as patient as me. When can you start?”

Todd paused. “Monday of next week. I’ll finish at Sammy’s this Friday. I don’t want to let him down. After all, he was the only one who’d give me a job.”

“That’s fine,” Elliot said, throwing Todd a set of keys. “You can move in whenever you like. It’ll be like a palace compared to the shithole you’re in now.”

“I’ll stay where I am until I finish at Sammy’s. One question. How well do you know Frank Arturo?”

“Did he say we were friends?”

“No, I asked him if it was you who paid him, and he told me it was none of my business.”

“He was right,” Elliot replied. “It’s none of your business.”

The partners of Montgomery Hastings & Pierce, again voted against the nomination of Vanessa as a new partner and instead admitted Phillip Cromwell’s three nominees. After one retirement, the firm now had forty partners. The new partners had barely made their acceptance speeches before Cromwell prepared a notice seeking Doug Lechte’s removal for conduct that had brought the firm into disrepute.

More particularly his failure to adequately supervise Todd Hansen.

With the new partners’ votes, Cromwell knew he had the numbers and in a month’s time, he would see the last of Lechte. With Lechte gone and a new audit partner taking his place, there would no longer be a position for Vanessa Hodge. Cromwell signed the notice with a flourish before asking his assistant to circulate it immediately.

Chapter 40

Karen Deacon had been home for ten minutes after taking the kids to school when she received the call that she had been dreading.

“I thought you were going to be late for school this morning when you got stuck in that traffic,” the slightly accented voice said. “Did you enjoy the photos? Do you realize how easy it would’ve been to put that photo of you in the envelope we gave your daughter? If we had, we would have been sure not to seal it.”

Karen peered out of the kitchen window looking for anything suspicious. “What do you want?”

“You know. Five million and you’ll never hear from me again. You get the CDs and your life returns to normal.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Don’t lie to me. You have stocks and bonds, plus the house must be worth at least four million. You can raise it.”

“If I could believe you, I’d pay, but I don’t. I think you’re a liar who’ll bleed me for the rest of my life.”

Vaughan silently cursed. Borchard had blamed him for pushing Devlin Cooper too far and for his death. He had also told Vaughan that he had to get the five million to redeem himself.

“Would you like me to put one or two photos on the internet to prove that I’m serious?”

“No, no. I can’t get that much in cash.”

“We don’t want cash. The next time I call I’ll give you a bank account number.”

“A bank account?” Karen said with a tinge of hope.

“We’re not fools, Mrs. Deacon. The account was set up fraudulently. We’ll move the funds out over the internet, and you’ll never trace them. Nor will you ever trace me. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

There was a long pause.

“Mrs. Deacon? Mrs. Deacon, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’ve made a decision. I’m not paying. Put your filth on the internet. I’ll tough it out,” Karen shouted.

Vanessa sat opposite a worried Doug Lechte. She had never seen him like this before. “Cromwell’s got the numbers and this time there’s nothing I can do about it,” he said.

“That means I’ll be out five minutes after you,” Vanessa said, “and it’ll make contacting the FBI and SEC all the riskier. Can’t you explain that to Phillip and ask him to hold off?”

“I can’t breathe a word about what we’re doing. Besides, he couldn’t care less about Todd, and he’s hell-bent on getting rid of me.”

“God, and Todd’s just got in with them. He starts next Monday. We’re going to the movies tomorrow night.”

“We might have to get you out. So long as you could pass information onto me you had some protection. If we’re not working together, and you have to report to the FBI, you’ll be putting yourself at significant risk. You can’t do it.”

“It’s going to put you and Todd at risk, too. Seriously, what reason does he have for remaining in contact with you, Doug? None. At least with me there’s the cover of a relationship. I can’t understand why Phillip is out to get you.”

“He’s bombastic, and I can’t reason with him. All I can do is keep lobbying the partners and hope that I can get at least four to change their mind.”

“How do you know it’s that bad?”

“Vanessa, the votes against your admission to the partnership were thirty and those in favor ten. I expect the vote to remove me will be the same,” Lechte said, shaking his head.

It had been two months since the last directors meeting of Vulture Inc., and an uncomfortable silence permeated the room. Borchard took up his customary position at the end of the board table directly facing Dermott Becker.

“I don’t know why we have these meetings,” Arthur Ridgeway said. “We tell Brock not to lay a hand on Les Carroll and what happens? He’s dead!”

“It had nothing to do with me.” Borchard sneered

Lydia Coe rolled her eyes, and Dermott Becker yawned.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Borchard asked. “I’m telling you it was an accident.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Brock,” Ridgeway persisted. “People seem to get killed when you’re around. You overplayed your hand with Devlin Cooper and look what happened.”

“You’re blaming me for Cooper’s suicide?”

“You pushed him too hard,” Becker said. “You got greedy and killed off a nice little earner.”

“No, I didn’t. Anyhow, it’s not over yet,” Borchard said. “I waited like you told me to. Now it’s time for the woman to pay and as soon as she does I’m selling the CDs to the highest bidder.”

“You’re going to tarnish the reputation of a national hero and what are you going to get? A few million if you’re lucky.” Lydia Coe said.

“I didn’t think you’d be worried about his reputation, Lydia.”

“I’m not,” she replied. “I’m worried about the media and the cops. They’re going to be all over it. They’re going to track it to the Astor and then they’ll find the clerk’s disappeared. Then they’re going to start relentlessly digging. If they find Dirk, they’ll find you, and if they find you, there’s a good chance they’ll find us. It’s not worth it. Get as much out of Karen Deacon as you can and then drop it. Forget about selling the CDs. They’ll be more trouble than their worth.”

“Hear, hear,” Ridgeway said.

“Yeah,” O’Brien agreed.

“Lydia’s right,” Becker said. “Have you thought about using Jack Elliot rather than Dirk? Jack’s a salesman, and he can be very persuasive. With all due respect, I’d have more confidence in Jack getting the five mil than Dirk.”

“I’ll think about it,” Borchard said.

“I’m happy to send him to Chicago,’ Becker persisted.

“Why? All he needs is her phone number,” Borchard replied.

“Do we need a resolution that we’re not going to sell the CDs?” Ridgeway asked.

Borchard glared around the table. He was seething. How dare they tell him what to do? “No!” He snarled.

“What else have you got?” Becker asked.

“You’ll be pleased to know that your friend Max Lustig won the contract to carry hanging meat that was ours for the taking,” Borchard said disparagingly.

“Don’t worry about it. There’ll be plenty of other contracts in the future, and it’s good sense to stay away from Lustig. There are easier fish to catch than him,” Becker said. “Is that all, Brock?”

“No. I’ve got a huge shipment of coke coming in from Colombia. I’ve bought it extremely well. It’ll take a few days to cut, but then I’ll need to move it. I might need you to increase the size of your orders.”

“Don’t worry,” Becker replied, “I’ll take all the additional. My guys in Queens and the Bronx can’t keep up with demand. It’s insane.”

“How’s it coming in?” O’Brien asked.

“Small plane.”

“That’s risky,” O’Brien said.

“Not for us,” Borchard replied. “Until it’s landed and been sampled the Colombians don’t see a cent.”

“How’s the auditor working out at the club?” Ridgeway asked.

“He’s only been there three days,” Becker replied. “He’ll be fine.’

“What? What’s this about?” Borchard snarled.

“He couldn’t get a job anywhere,” Becker replied. “Jack suggested that we give him a job at the club so we could keep a handle on him. He’s almost certainly going back inside after his appeal’s quashed.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Borchard said, thumping the table. “What if he’s a plant for the Fibbies or the SEC? You wouldn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on him if he just mysteriously disappeared.”

“Sorry, Brock, but we can’t kill the whole of New York,” Ridgeway said sarcastically.

“Jack’s accepted total responsibility for him. I don’t think we’ve got much to worry about,” Becker said. “You know who he visited for nearly four hours on Sunday? Frank Arturo. I hardly think he’s going to be cozying up to the cops.”

“What is it with him and Arturo?” O’Brien asked. “Who paid Arturo to look after him?”

“My mail is that Arturo likes him. It’s that simple. I don’t know who paid. I thought it was Lustig, but now I’m not sure. Maybe it was his mom. She’s paying his legal bills. Anyhow, the kid doesn’t know either but, get this, he thinks it was Jack. It’s created a warped loyalty.”

“How would his mother contact Arturo?” Borchard said. “It wasn’t her.”

“I’ll tell you how,” Becker said. “She’s rich, so that helps. She contacts a PI, who knows someone who knows someone and when the chain finishes there’s Frank Arturo. The last thing a mother wants to think about is her son getting fucked in prison every night. If I had to guess, I’d say she arranged it.”

“It would’ve been faster and safer if he’d had an accident,” Borchard growled.

“Perhaps not,” Becker replied. “If Arturo likes him, I’d hate to be the one who arranged the accident. And Brock, we all know you’re a tough guy, but let me tell you, the Serbian Mafia’s no match for the real Mafia.”

Nervous laughs came from around the table.

“Arturo’s got thousands of soldiers on the streets. He probably doesn’t even know we exist. Let’s keep it that way,” Becker said.

“It’s noon,” O’Brien said looking at his watch. “I didn’t get any breakfast on the plane. Can we adjourn for an hour while we have something to eat?”