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Fear and panic flooded my mind again, and without saying another word I ran to my car. I just stared into space; I didn’t know what to do, or where to go.

  I drove towards Queens Boulevard. I would find Dewey and Michael and straighten the whole thing out. There had to be some way to get the suspicion off Leah. At an intersection, about ten blocks away from the house, I saw red and blue flashing lights, and traffic was stopped. I parked the car and began to walk up the street through the stalled traffic. I was less than half a block away from the intersection with the lights and ambulances when I saw the green Chrysler sitting in the middle of the street. There was a yellow plastic tarp over the top of one side. A man was walking toward me, away from the scene; he kept staring down at the ground, shaking his head, and waving his arms up and down. I asked, “What happened down there?”

  “It was awful. Some guy and his girlfriend were stopped at the intersection and there were three guys in the car in front of them. They got out, one of them had a shotgun. They just opened fire on them. Shot the hell out of both of them. Then they got back in their car and drove off, just like that.” He shook his head again and walked off.

  There was no need for me to go back to protect Leah. There was no need for me to talk to Michael or Dewey. There was no need for me to do anything that night. I had been drunk and sober three times during the day and I was exhausted. I would be lucky to have enough strength to make it home for the evening – to have another drink, snort a little coke, and go to sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ALL IN THE FAMILY

  ASTRONOMY

  I knew what to expect the next day at the Medalley mansion. Again I was waved through the gates. Everything seemed normal, except inside there were no fresh flowers; yesterday’s had wilted. I moved through the mansion like I lived there, and got a glimpse of Hermes as he walked into his study and closed the door. Strangely, he didn’t seem bothered. I asked the maid where Regina was and she pointed to her bedroom. I waited for a while and finally Leah came out of the bedroom, her eyes puffy and red. Dabbing at her nose, she said, “My mother is awake now. She would like to speak with you.”

  I knocked quietly on Regina’s bedroom door and heard her soft voice say, “Come in.” The room was almost dark, Regina was in her bed and I could barely see her through the dim light. Through the shadows she said, “You knew … Leah told me … You knew, and you tried to stop it. My daughters are innocent. You tried to protect them. You are independent; you learn things. You’re loyal to me … Thank you, thank you for trying to help.”

  Her calm control gave me a cold chill, and somehow I had this feeling again, that I didn’t know everything. Something else was going on. My profound guilt prevented me from saying anything, except, “I will protect Leah. I will protect you. As God is my witness I will protect you both.” At that moment I wasn’t sure who I was going to protect her from; her own people or 90 Church – or perhaps from me.

  She smiled at me like I was a child. I expected her to be straightening flowers around the house by noon.

  I didn’t see Michael or Dewey until the next evening when I knew everyone would be at the Heidelberg to discuss the case. I wasn’t sure what to say at the meeting. No one knew why Mercedes was murdered – she had nothing to do with drug trafficking. Leah should have been in the car. I sat in silence, trying to contain my hatred for Michael. Michael knew they were going to kill both Leah and Chevy. That’s why he had trouble talking to me the night he was drunk. I was just as guilty. It was my fault Mercedes was dead.

  Then came my turn to speak. I simply reported that I was a trusted member of the household and was looking after Leah, and stayed mostly around the pool. There were smiles and smirks, and then Dewey and Michael started in with a barrage of questions: How many people were in the house during the day? Did I see any drug activity? Who did Hermes meet with? How often did Pepe come over? Did I overhear anything? What was the house like? It went on and on. When I was describing the Medalley mansion, I did remember something unusual: on the roof was a sundeck with a mounted telescope and it always seemed that there was someone looking through it – all day and all night.

  Only Dewey seemed to be interested in this information. “Describe the telescope.”

  “It’s a telescope, on a tripod, and there was always somebody in a chair staring through it, next to a phone. So what?”

  “Where is the telescope aimed?”

  “It seemed to be level,” I said, “as if looking across the water at the ships.”

  Dewey pressed on. “What color is it and how big is it?”

  I lost my patience. “What difference does it make? It’s a fucking telescope! The guy sits there and watches the ships. It’s about twelve inches in diameter and it has two little sights on it, and it’s short. What difference does it make? Some dopey spic sits and stares at the ships all day long next to a phone. So what?”

  Everybody around the table gave me a “You are really stupid” kind of look.

  “Michael,” Dewey said, “I think it’s time we stopped screwing around with these dumb spics around the pool. Let’s go after the drugs. We all know where they are.”

  Everyone around the table agreed, but I objected. “I haven’t seen any drug activity at the Medalley mansion at all.”

  Dewey turned to me. “You’re right. If you had read the surveillance reports that Springfield filed, it’s just normal comings and goings. Even at the docks, no one comes and picks up drugs, drops off money, or anything. It’s just a normal household … and do you know why?”

  There was silence around the room while everyone waited for Dewey to answer his own question. “Because you, our young undercover agent, have discovered where the drugs are. You know where the stash is, don’t you?”

  I shook my head, feeling stupid. I was the undercover agent on the inside but Dewey knew more than I did.

  “Why, they’re in Brooklyn,” Dewey said. “I can’t believe how slow everybody is. They’re at the tenement on the shore, the Brooklyn shore. That’s where they keep their stash. The telescope on the roof at the Medalley house is manned twenty-four hours a day, but it’s not a telescope for looking at ships; it’s a high-powered reflector-mirror, used for astronomy. It’s not the kind of instrument that someone would look at a ship with. It’s too powerful. Do you think these spics are interested in looking at the stars? It sees across the bay to the building in Brooklyn and watches outside. It watches for cops, dope dealers, and thieves. If the guy sees something he picks up the phone and calls the apartment. It’s perfect. They’re able to guard the apartment without ever being seen. The last thing they want to do is to draw attention to themselves by having someone hanging around in the street, so they can see if they’re under surveillance.”

  Michael didn’t seem to care. “Dewey, I think you’re right about them throwing the drugs overboard and fishing them out of the water with their boats, and I think you’re right about the stash being in Brooklyn. Springfield’s surveillance report indicates a lot of Medalley cars coming in to that neighborhood, but I don’t care. We’ve got other things to do. I don’t care about the dope.”

  Michael usually had the last word, but not this time. Dewey said, “Things are getting out of hand. Mercedes shouldn’t have been killed. We fucked up when we put the dope in Leah’s car. We should have known Chevy was using her car. They’re killing each other off with their stupid code. I already count four dead, with Mercedes.”

  I didn’t mention the guy that popped out of the weeds without his hand, and wondered if he was number five, or one of the four. It was the first time I had ever seen Michael challenged by another agent, and it was the first time anyone felt that another agent knew more about a case than Michael. My concern for Regina and Leah grew: knowing Michael, sooner or later they would end up dead.

  Dewey stood up. “Well, you know, it just doesn’t seem right. We have to draw the line someplace. We’ve got to stop this before someone else like Mercedes gets killed. The FBI sa
ys there’s a ship coming in soon and they’ll probably make a drop. It’s time to shut them down. What do you say, Michael?”

  Michael was on the defensive. “What about Pepe Click-Click? That’s why we started out. He’s still running around. McDermott doesn’t want a bunch of low-level people rotting in jail. I want Pepe, Orlando, and Hermes.”

  There was silence, and then Michael broke the deadlock. “Okay, we let the case go another two weeks, or wrap it up when they start fishing the coke out of the water. Agreed?”

  Dewey and Michael nodded at each other.

  THE CHEATER’S BAR

  I waited a couple of days, then I went out to the Medalley mansion, as usual, around noon. Regina was by the pool, but she looked different, quiet. There were fresh flowers throughout the house.

  Leah showed up around two. She had someone with her, her own “bodyguard.” I couldn’t tell if he was South American or Puerto Rican. He had a gut and his buttons pulled on his shirt. He kept smiling and joking around, leering at Leah and acting like he was a real tough guy. Regina was trying to ignore him. He was so obnoxious that he took out his gun and played with it, laying it on the table to show it off. Leah liked him, teased him, tried to push him in the pool, as he kept trying to grab her. When Regina left, Leah sat on his lap, and he touched her ass. His name was Roland and I couldn’t stand him. My feelings for Leah had turned into burning jealousy and disgust. Only three days had passed since her lover and sister had been killed, and her new slob of a boyfriend was feeling her up.

  Finally Regina called Leah aside and told her that I was to guard her. Roland had to go, at least for a while. Leah seemed okay with this, at least temporarily. So I ended up driving Leah around and promising Regina that I would guard her twenty-four hours a day. I tried to hide my jealousy and created a ridiculous story that I felt she should be more socially active so that anyone trying to kill her would know she was well-protected. However, she shouldn’t visit her old social haunts. I suggested I take her out that night to some of the more safe places in town, such as Basin Street, Count Basie’s, or Small’s Paradise, and other upscale clubs. All of these places were in Spanish Harlem, the most dangerous part of the city, but strangely enough that’s where I felt most comfortable. She accepted this.

  Leah looked absolutely beautiful in her tight miniskirt and high heels. When we walked into Basin Street to see DeWitt play his trumpet, she literally stopped the show as everybody turned to look at the beautiful white couple. After a few drinks and one of DeWitt’s sets she disappeared into the bathroom for about fifteen minutes. When she returned I asked her what took so long, she said she had been arguing with Roland on the phone. All evening I tried to impress her, but after a while I could see it was useless. I kept thinking how incredible it was that she went from being in love with Chevy to now, a few days later, with a new boyfriend, a real creep, as if nothing had ever happened. She thought Basin Street was dull, although she liked the “old black man playing the horn,” and said it was too bad there weren’t younger, white, “decent” people in the club like us. I drove her home to Staten Island. She gave me a peck on the cheek.

  The next day as usual I sat around the pool with Regina and Leah. I kept thinking about my failure with her last night, and my jealousy grew. Throughout the afternoon I kept staring at two of the most beautiful women in the world, Leah and her mother. They were my family in a private, twisted way. By mid-afternoon I was drunk in the hot sun.

  Hermes called me into his study. I thought he was going to give me my money back and get rid of me. But instead he said I could pick up my salary for the past two weeks from Roland today: eight ounces of cocaine. Every week Hermes would tell me a different way to pick up the cocaine. He never directly handled dope, he simply told me who to contact. I knew he was disappointed in me. He had hoped I would be a major dealer instead of a stupid lifeguard hanging around his wife and step-daughter. I called Roland and arranged to meet him at the White Horse bar in Queens at four o’clock to get my two weeks’ pay.

  I left the mansion and drove a few miles until I found a bar, hoping to get something to eat. It was a cheater’s nest – very dark, cool, with private high-backed booths, and a big-chested blonde, with cleavage, behind the bar in her bare feet. Instead of eating, I sat alone at the bar, drinking vodka. After a few drinks I picked up the phone on the bar and called Michael.

  “Michael, Roland is going to be at the White Horse bar at four o’clock this afternoon with eight ounces of coke. Do you want to pop him?”

  Michael seemed surprised. “Why? Who gives a shit about eight ounces of coke, and a dumb low-level spic named Roland?”

  “Michael, I know this guy really well,” I lied. “You can turn him. He’s the Brooklyn connection, maybe even part of the Gambino crew. He can get us into the stash, I know it, and he’s carrying eight ounces. Take him down hard. You’d better take Dewey and Ed Silkey. He’s a hothead, he won’t go easily.”

  “Anything you want. What’s he look like?” Michael asked. I could tell Michael was annoyed, but at least I was finally making a case.

  I replied, “He’s a pot-bellied spic with a ponytail.” Michael hung up.

  I had a couple more vodkas and thought I was as bad as Michael and started to feel guilty, all the way down into my soul. I was setting Roland up because I was jealous, I wanted him out of the way so I could make it with Leah. This was wrong, all wrong, and I knew it, and I had to stop it.

  Finally, I grabbed the phone off the bar again and called Roland. I couldn’t tell him I had set him up with the drug agents, but I had to stop it. When he answered, I said, “Roland, let’s not do the deal this afternoon. Something very bad has come up.”

  “What’s wrong? Why not, big fellow?”

  “I’ve been dating this girl,” I replied, making up a story, “and told her I would have some coke for her this afternoon. She’s a good customer. She was going to come with me to pick it up, but then she called and said her customer is a little too interested. He wanted to go with her. Her customer works for the La Pont family. They’re still mad over Mars. I think it’s too hot. Let’s just call it off; it’s not worth the risk. They may be waiting for us, especially you. It could be a set-up.”

  “Okay,” Roland replied. “Thanks. They can wait outside all they want. Call me tomorrow and let’s reschedule, cause I’ve got it here for you, big boy.” Then he hung up.

  I drank some more. I thought of Michael and Ed and Dewey sitting outside the bar, waiting for Roland, who was not going to show up. For some reason I thought it was funny; I could imagine Michael swearing, mad as hell. I sat in the bar, flirting with the blonde bartender until she got busy. I left about six and went home to my empty, lonely apartment in Brooklyn to sleep it off. Like acid, my loneliness ate away my heart and mind until there was nothing left except desperation. I had betrayed Daisy, and lost my family, now someday soon I was going to betray Regina and Leah.

  A MAJOR CASE

  You know something big has happened at 90 Church Street if, before you walk into the building, you see cars lining the street with sun visors down to show their press badges. The office was buzzing with camera crews and reporters. I knew it was big when I saw Kyle, the Queens detective on the Organized Crime Task Force.

  “What happened, Kyle?” I asked. “What’s all the fuss?”

  He looked at me with surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding. You don’t know what happened last night with the Medalley family?”

  “No,” I replied, as fear swept over me.

  “Well, four of the Medalley henchmen tried to ambush Michael, Dewey, and Ed outside a bar in Queens, the White Horse.”

  I realized instantly what happened. Why didn’t I see it coming? Roland was a hothead, a loudmouth, a two-bit killer. He would never run from the La Pont gang. After all, the Medalleys were still not sure if Leah told the truth about being robbed by Mars La Pont. It was their chance to get the La Pont gang, who were still after them for french-frying Ma
rs La Pont’s hand; instead, Roland and his friends had met 90 Church.

  I rushed into Group Two, afraid somebody had been killed, but there they were, Michael, Dewey, and Ed Silkey. Dewey had a bandage on his hand, but other than that, they were fine. I pulled Dewey aside; he’d cut his hand on the car door trying to dodge a bullet. He put his arm around me and we walked down the hall to an empty room.

  When we sat down Dewey said, “It was a set-up. The moment we drove up to the bar, the assholes came out shooting. Funny, Michael said it might go like that. Why didn’t you show up? It was really wild. We didn’t know he would bring three others to the party. Why didn’t you know it was set up? All four of them walked out when they saw Michael driving up in Pike’s Cadillac. We had to drive away and shoot it out in a parking lot. Ed nailed two with his pump, I got one, and Michael got one. It was bad, a lot of gunshots. I even had to use a second clip. Pike is going to take credit for it, and his Cadillac got all shot up. They don’t want us at the press conferences. Roland had eight ounces of coke on him. It was self-defense; they all began shooting – first at Michael. Speaking of Michael, he’s pissed at you, you better straighten it out with Michael; he has a lot of questions … Oh, and one other thing – one of the spics that Silkey hit with his pump was Pepe Lamaros’s son. Ed tore him up pretty bad, and he died this morning.”

  As Dewey turned to leave he said, “There’s something else; the boat’s coming in. We’re going to have to stop this shit. The way things are going there won’t be anybody left alive to pick the dope out of the water.”

  I couldn’t face Michael; I walked down the hall and out the side door to the elevators and into the street. I wasn’t sure where to go, so I drove to Central Park and wandered around the paths, watching the school children eating lunch and the lovers strolling hand-in-hand. It was so calm and peaceful, but everything in my life was out of control.

  I tried to convince myself that none of this was my fault. It was all kind of an accident. I might have been drunk, but even if I was sober I would have made the same decisions. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t like Michael; Michael set people up as an art form, playing one against the other while they dealt drugs. Now I knew I was doing the same thing. There was a perverse logic to all of it but, logical or not, I was scared.