90 Church Read online

  Eventually I drove to the Medalley mansion, not having any idea what I would find. Perhaps death, or perhaps they figured out that they just lost four more “account executives” in a hail of gunfire because of me – and by the end of the day I would be on a one-way trip in one of their little fishing boats.

  As usual I was waved through the gate and entered the Medalley house without knocking. The pool area was empty, but I sensed something eerie about the house. Incredibly, there were fresh flowers, despite all the crisis and death. Regina had the presence of mind to make sure there were fresh flowers; always the perfect wife and supportive homemaker, the calm, sophisticated, cultured woman in the eye of an evil, violent storm.

  Regina, Hermes, and Orlando were in the study, watching a special TV news bulletin: a delayed taping from the morning press conference. There was Pike with his shirt buttons pulling open and his hands waving in the air. Pike and Blanker explained how the Bureau – working with the NYPD Organized Crime Task Force – had been investigating the Medalley drug ring, and finally shut it down with a bloody shoot-out. They mistakenly identified Pepe Click-Click’s son as Pepe himself. Mug shots of the dead drug dealers, including a bloody picture of Roland, were shown on the screen, next to “major crime figure” Pepe Lamaros. Pike was proud to announce that they seized eight ounces of cocaine in the shoot-out. Everything was so ridiculous that I just sat in shock with the rest of them. To think that these four low-level punks and my two weeks’ payment of cocaine for being Regina’s lifeguard added up to a major drug case, disgusted me.

  Four people, including Pepe’s son and Roland, were dead, shot down in the street, and here they were watching television just like business as usual, like nothing had happened. Orlando said good-bye to everyone and left. I looked out the window to the pool area where Leah lay on a lounge chair, topless, covered with shiny suntan lotion, talking on the phone.

  “Nico,” Hermes said, and pointed to me. “I have a special assignment for you. We’re worried about this unfortunate incident with Pepe’s son; perhaps it may cause him to act reckless or even irrational against us. We are losing control; I would like you to work with him. I worry about Regina and Leah. Work with Pepe, take orders from him, then come to me. I want to know how well he’s doing. We will know what to do next, you just always be with Pepe. You see, Pepe somehow thinks that this thing with Leah has caused the death of his son. The La Ponts used to be good customers, now we just don’t know. Pepe’s such a hothead. He could be very dangerous.” Hermes ended his little speech with a big smile.

  I gave Pepe two days to get over the death of his son and then called and agreed to meet him at his house later that day at about four o’clock.

  JUSTIFICATION

  I had not spoken to Michael in days. I began to worry about my relationship with him. Michael was not the kind of person you’d want to have against you. Finally I called him and suggested we have lunch before I went to Pepe’s house. I sounded like I was calling an old friend that I hadn’t seen in a while. It was a silly invitation, since I’d never seen Michael eat any food for lunch. We both knew we had very serious issues to discuss.

  Michael and I met at a seafood restaurant in Midtown. It had an impressive bar built around a huge aquarium with exotic fish. We both had a few drinks without saying much and then Michael got down to business. He started off in a strange way: “Do you see how smart Dewey is? I trained him … He’s smarter than me now. Do you see how skillfully he makes cases? McDermott, the Bureau, they don’t care. They just want us to stop them. They want them all dead. Stop the drugs. That’s all anybody cares about. No one cares about the law, or us. They think people like Pike and Blanker are in charge. They take all the credit. We do the dirty work.” After his rambling stopped, he leaned over close to me and said in a whisper, “You’re too close. You’re too close to these people. They’re all going to die. Don’t go down with them.”

  I thought of Leah, Regina, and the beautiful house. “Michael,” I said, “you and Dewey and the others are just a bunch of killers. Look what you’ve done to these people.” The strangeness of my own words startled me. Then I tried to make sense of it. “This is not what McDermott wanted. He is the Justice Department, the FBI – surely he can’t be happy with what’s going on. What ever happened to the justice system, due process?” As soon as I said this, I realized how wrong it sounded. Then I said something even worse: “You didn’t fool me about Stuckey, you set him up, you set him up for Lollipop.”

  Michael ignored me and leaned down and picked up his briefcase and set it on the bar, angling it as he opened it, so no one else could see inside except me. I could see the usual bags of heroin – and a gun and a knife, both wrapped in plastic. He fingered through the file folders and pulled out one that I recognized as the FBI folder that Springfield had given to us the first day of the case. Michael went through it and pulled out a manila envelope and shuffled through a series of black-and-white photographs. He found two. The first was of a forearm that had been tied with a rope – it was a bloody stump, the hand was missing – and then he threw another picture on top of it. I could tell it was a face, but I couldn’t recognize much else. I could see that an ear had been cut off, and there was a black jagged spot where the nose should have been. It looked like a huge photographic blemish. I stared at the photograph, but it didn’t mean anything to me.

  Michael got close to my face. “His name is Lucas.”

  I still didn’t get it. I knew this was the work of the Medalley family, but who? I shrugged.

  “Lucas McDermott … Now tell me what the FBI wants us to do,” Michael said almost in a whisper. “Tell me about due process!”

  For once it was Michael that was sober, and I was drunk. I just sat there shaking my head, and Michael stared back. “They’re all going down – Pepe, Hermes, Regina, Leah – for what they’re doing, for what they’ve done, and for what they will do.”

  I started to shake my head even harder. “No, Michael. Not like this. I’m going to stop you. It has to stop here. You’re not going to kill the mother and daughter. You don’t know them like I do. You have enough on Hermes and Orlando; you can turn Sprague. No more, Michael, no more. You’re just a fucking killer.”

  Michael rocked back in his chair and sipped his drink, then started a strange list; “Ormonte, Galentine, Two Fingers, Jimmy Lorenzo, Pepatone, the crazy Gallos, inside on Columbo, and the asshole who got us into the Medalley’s in the first place. It was all Lollipop. Lollipop gave me all that information, made all those cases. Stuckey was already dead, long before I sent him ‘to meet you uptown.’ There were probably six people trying to kill him, he just got it early. After all, his death meant something; it was probably the only good thing he did in his life. Stuckey was sacrificed to protect Lollipop. Every good combat commander knows he must sacrifice some of his troops to win battles. It’s war, it’s how wars are fought. It was either Stuckey or Lollipop and I chose Lollipop. It was a smart move. Just like I must choose to sacrifice someone to protect you!”

  “You mean Leah, don’t you? You son-of-a-bitch! The green Chrysler, that was to protect me, to keep me inside, undercover? You couldn’t tell everyone you put the dope in the wrong car, it would blow everything – including my cover.”

  Michael spoke with a cold calmness. “Including your life! What do you think the Medalleys would do to you if they found out about the sting with Louie the G, or found out you’re from 90 Church? Don’t you see these people are different? They’re stone-cold killers. They don’t play by anyone’s rules except their own. They would hunt you down and kill you. The only way to save you is to take them all down so no one’s left. Don’t you see it was either her or you? I chose you! I chose you over them!”

  “Nothing matters to you,” I fired back, “or Dewey and the others, except to get these people no matter who or what gets in your way. Right? You don’t really care who gets killed.”

  Michael just stared at me, and I knew his answer.
/>   “I’m going to stop you,” I said, “even if I have to kill you myself.”

  I threw a few dollars on the bar and walked out. For once, since starting at the Bureau, I knew what I was doing. I was right. Yet, the strange logic of it all kept eating at me. I was going to save one of the most ruthless, evil, drug cartels in the world from my friends at 90 Church who were trying to protect me. What an incredible, perverted crusade!

  NIGHTMARE

  On my drive to Pepe’s house in Queens I made my plans to protect Leah. As long as she remained at the Medalley compound she would be safe. The real threat came from Pepe, who wanted revenge. I doubted that the Medalley code of honor and family would keep the balance and prevent a bloodbath. I knew Pepe would hate Hermes for corrupting the Medalley brotherhood code by trying to protect her. Leah would be the first target, and Pepe would probably cut her throat himself. If I stayed close to Pepe and kept Leah in Staten Island until Dewey and Michael intercepted the drugs and shut the whole operation down, I could save her life. Regina was safe because she was never involved in anything.

  Pepe lived in an upscale neighborhood on Long Island. I had been there before and remembered how tacky it was, furnished with cheap spindle-legged furniture, plastic flowers, baseball glasses, and pictures of Jesus on the walls.

  Pepe’s wife greeted me, and I remembered her from the party – overweight and dumb. Black mascara was streaked on her wet, teary face. The house stank of cigarette smoke, dirty dishes, and half-filled glasses left over from the funeral reception.

  Pepe was at the bar in the back of the house, sitting on a stool, hunched over a drink, smoking a cigarette. His long, greasy hair hung down over his face like a black curtain. He was so drunk and sad he could hardly talk. I tried to console him as he mumbled incoherently, and sipped his tequila. “My son, my son, my only son. They took him. They will pay. They will pay.”

  I didn’t know if he was talking about 90 Church, Orlando, or Hermes, but it didn’t make any difference. I sat down and started lying to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t make the wake. Hermes has got me very busy. Hermes is concerned about you and the others that got shot.” I didn’t mention Leah because I knew it would set him off.

  Pepe grinned with his yellow teeth and rubbed the horrible scars on the side of his face. I said, “Pepe, I want to help you. I want to work with you. I want to be by your side, one of your men. We will get through this together. I respect your bravery, your honor. I will take your orders.”

  He kept blinking his bloodshot eyes in disbelief. “Thank you,” he whispered, slurring his words. “I need a good man like you. I’ve got to get that cunt before she gets us all killed.” The black curtain of his hair fell down again, completely covering his face and the glass. I heard him slurp.

  I felt my blood run cold for Leah. He then pulled me to the stool next to him so he could speak in a whisper, placing his arm around me and overwhelming me with his wretched breath. “Go back,” he said. “Live with them. Be there. I will tell you when. I want to kill the cunt myself, with a knife. You can be there to see it, put your hands in her blood with me.” His hatred for Leah inflamed and sobered him up.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll be there for you.” As I got up to leave, he smiled, took a few more swigs of tequila, and pointed to the door.

  As I left Pepe, I was shaking with fear for Leah, and passed through a hallway with side windows that overlooked his swimming pool. It wasn’t anything like the Medalleys’ pool, but it was well-kept. Something caught my eye at the side of the pool patio. At a table under an umbrella was a tanned athletic woman talking on the phone, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, and a jeweled sandal half falling off her bobbing foot. I was thrown into a horrible dream and had to hold onto the wall for balance. I kept denying what I was seeing, waiting to wake up, because none of this could be possible. I stared again at what I knew was just an illusion, but it wasn’t. How could she be in the house of the man who wanted her dead? Completely oblivious, chin almost resting on the table, totally absorbed in her phone conversation, was Leah. She glanced up, gave me a slight wave, and turned back to her phone.

  * * *

  I went to Harlem that night to Count Basie’s to see DeWitt play his sweet trumpet. Now I was working for both Pepe and Hermes, who wanted to kill each other, and I had to protect Leah from Pepe – while she was staying at his house! Nothing could be more fucked up. I felt completely alone. I turned my back on Michael just like I had turned my back on Daisy and Mark. The feeling that everything I had thought and done was wrong overwhelmed me, and here I sat listening to some junkie play the trumpet, realizing, profoundly, that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and I was endangering everybody.

  By the next morning there was only one thing left for me to do: return to the Medalley family and play dumb, which would actually be the most sincere and truthful thing that I had done in a long time.

  Regina was, as usual, by the pool, straightening vases of flowers and giving orders to the domestic help. I decided to be straightforward. “Regina, I was at Pepe’s last night and I saw Leah. Why is she there?”

  She smiled. “Oh, you needn’t be concerned; it was her idea. She has friends in Queens and wanted to be close to them for a while. It was also Hermes’ idea. You know, Pepe and Camello suffered a terrible loss, an accident with their young son. Leah will be there for just a few days and then she’ll come back and live here.”

  Her explanation seemed logical, but I’d lost my self-confidence to question anything. I spent the rest of the day lying around the pool, drinking vodka and snorting coke like I had done so many days before, but this time I had no fear, no caution, no purpose, no ambition, no scheme, nothing. I was drifting and everything was swirling around me, and there was no one I could turn to, to help me understand. I was so out of control it never even occurred to me to be afraid of being discovered.

  I went home early and, when I checked the office for messages at about eleven o’clock, there was one on my undercover phone line from Regina, asking me to come back to the mansion early the next morning.

  Early to me was ten-thirty, and I was happy to have somewhere, anywhere, to go. It was unusual to see yesterday’s flowers still in their vases; there was wilt on them, just like the time when Mercedes was killed. Regina was in her usual spot by the pool, but I could see from the look on her face there was something bothering her. She was happy to see me and stood up so she could look me in the eyes. “Pepe has Leah.”

  I was confused. “I know. You said –”

  She cut me off with a desperate tone. “You must get her back for me. You must not fail. Do whatever it takes.”

  “What do you mean? I thought that she was visiting Pepe’s.”

  “No.” She shook her head with impatience. “Don’t you see? She was there with Pepe and Orlando as a sign of good faith. A sign of trust. We had to do something to restore the code, the code of trust of the family.” Her voice changed slightly, more soft. “It was Hermes’ idea. We have a large inventory now. She was meant as security, to ensure that everyone will work together in peace at this crucial period. But Pepe is crazy, crazy with grief. Orlando and Hermes worked it all out, but now Pepe has her. He has, I think, an evil ambition, although Hermes tells me not to worry. I want you to find her. Go and find her. You’re close to Pepe … Make sure she’s safe, bring her back here to Hermes.”

  I left with the dreadful feeling of helplessness after this strange conversation. How could Regina allow her daughter to be used as “security”? I went to the office to call Pepe on my undercover phone. Pepe acted dumb. He hadn’t seen her. She had left his house. He didn’t know anything.

  I didn’t believe him, but I pretended I did. I was convinced that Pepe was holding her captive, or had already killed her. Somehow I had to force him to tell me. I just prayed it wasn’t too late. As I sat at my desk with a dull stare, Ed Silkey came in – and my plan of action came together.

  Later th
at afternoon I called Pepe and asked to meet him that night at Pargo’s – a bar on the edge of Queens, not far from his house. It was a busy place, and safe. I knew he’d feel secure. We agreed to meet at nine-thirty. I told him I had learned something interesting at the Medalley mansion that he should know.

  At about ten o’clock I called the bar at Pargo’s and paged Pepe. I told him that I’d driven into a ditch, asked him to come pick me up. Less than twenty minutes later his car pulled up behind mine on a deserted back road in Rockaway, Queens. Pepe got out and walked around the side of my car where I was standing, pretending to look down at the right front wheel. He looked around at the deserted roadside and I saw him pull his gun from his waist and hold it down by his side as he approached. His eyes scanned the dark woods along the road.

  “So. What is wrong with your car? Why do you bring me here?”

  “I want to know where Leah is,” I answered. “You’ve got her.”

  He started to laugh. “Is that what this is about? That little tramp. Fuck her, fuck you. I don’t have time for this.”

  As he turned to walk back to his car, he confronted Silkey. Ed Silkey loved this kind of thing. He took a natural comfort in beating and shooting people. He even carried special tools. Although Silkey was best known for his pump shotgun, his favorite weapon was a blackjack of two steel balls, each about two inches in diameter, separated by a ten-inch spring – all sewn together with black leather. It looked like a small, floppy dumbbell. Silkey never said a word; he just whipped out the blackjack and shattered Pepe’s collarbone. Pepe’s gun dropped to the ground.

  Pepe turned to me and stared. “I will kill you and that tramp. I will kill that little tramp.”