90 Church Page 9

After a brief pause Domenic said, “Okay, darling, what is it?”

  “Daddy, a man has offered to sell me eleven kilos. He wants seventy-five thousand dollars. He knows me. He knows you. He knows the people you work with.”

  There was a long silence, and then Domenic said, “My God, what’s his name? What are you saying?”

  “He didn’t give me his name. He only said he’d show me the goods and that it was in a locker at the Port Authority, eleven kilos, and he wants seventy-five thousand dollars cash.”

  “My God, at the Port Authority lockers? How do you know this man? What is his name? How could he find you? How could this be? This is not possible!”

  “He was introduced to me by my friend, Pepper. He lives in the Village. He sold some pot to some of my friends at parties.”

  “People who sell pot at parties to pretty people like you do not sell kilos of heroin! What are you doing, Lisa?”

  “It’s nothing, Papa. It’s under control. I’m okay. What should we do? Are you interested?”

  Domenic responded coldly, “Yes, call your friend. Make arrangements. First we’ll see the heroin, then we’ll make arrangements to pay him. As soon as you can make the deal I’ll have the money available. I have it here, but I want you to have some help in dealing with him.”

  “How about Bobby? I’ve already told him. He was even going to put up some money.”

  “Yes, Bobby can help you. Now leave me alone. I have a few phone calls to make. Go make the arrangements, get back to me.”

  After a few moments, Domenic called Charlie Moon. “Charlie, you were right. Edmond has got to go, and he’s got to go today, right away. Lisa Marie has been approached to buy the other half of our gems. Manchester is definitely behind it. The son-of-a-bitch is even using the Port Authority lockers. He even wants to do the switch there just as soon as she can deliver seventy-five thousand dollars. It’s fucking unbelievable! Lisa Marie wants Bobby to help her. I think that’s a good idea. Edmond has cheated us, there’s no doubt, and he must be dealt with. No mercy. This is personal.”

  And then Charlie Moon’s voice: “Let’s do it right away. We’ve got to send a message here. I can’t believe this fucking rat. I’ll send some others to take care of Manchester. Let’s make sure that we clean everything up. I’ll make some phone calls; meet you at the club in two hours.”

  Dewey turned off the recording and everybody stared at each other. Michael started laughing so hard a tear ran down his cheek. “Let’s not get excited. Now’s the time to hold back, it’s time for us to wait.” Michael then looked at Dewey. “I think it’s time Edmond Manchester joined the team, don’t you?” Then Dewey and Michael started laughing together.

  NEW FRIENDS

  I knew Dewey took the suitcase of heroin overnight and created another eleven kilos of heroin, but only half as valuable. Michael knew Charlie Moon and Scarluci would not be fooled with the poor quality of the first buy and would come after Manchester for cheating them. Lisa Marie had now confirmed Manchester’s “treachery” and sealed his fate with two crime families. I remembered what Michael had said about criminals: they always think the worst about other people.

  Dewey and I drove to Manchester’s apartment building. On the way, I radioed the office and learned the make and plate number of Manchester’s car. Dewey showed his credentials to the doorman and said we were going down into the basement garage to check on some cars.

  We walked around until we found Edmond Manchester’s black Cadillac. Then Dewey used the house phone by the elevator to call Manchester. He told Edmond that he was a fellow tenant and that he had backed into his Cadillac, and asked him to come down to inspect the damage.

  Within a few minutes Manchester was walking through the dark garage. Dewey and I hid in the shadows. We had brought a portable tape recorder with us and, as Manchester searched for the caller, Dewey turned it on.

  Manchester stood in silence as he heard Domenic’s voice on the tape: “Edmond has cheated us, there’s no doubt. He must be dealt with. No mercy. This is personal,” and then Charlie Moon’s voice, “Yes, I agree. Let’s do it right away. We’ve got to send a message here. I can’t believe this fucking rat.”

  Dewey held his mouth to keep from laughing and played it again. Edmond still couldn’t see us. He just stood there in the dark. Finally Dewey said, “Don’t be afraid. We’re your friends. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re from 90 Church. We’ve come to help. We like you. We are your new friends.”

  Edmond Manchester turned white. He stood silent, shaking with fear from either what he had heard on the tape – or Dewey’s sympathetic, soft voice telling him we were from 90 Church. I wasn’t sure which. Then Dewey stopped laughing, “Let’s go upstairs to your apartment and get to know each other better.”

  The three of us took the elevator to Manchester’s penthouse apartment. Manchester sat silently in the living room, staring at the floor while Dewey went into the kitchen to open the refrigerator. He yelled to me, “Start in the bedroom, search everything. Do you want a ham or turkey sandwich? He’s got both, but only white bread. Take your time, I want to check the ball scores on TV.”

  Manchester lived alone, but I could see from the personal items in the bedroom and bathroom that he had girlfriends. There wasn’t anything unusual in the drawers and closets, just clothes, all very expensive. The next room was his study, and there piled on the desk were stacks of bundled money. “My God,” I yelled to Dewey in the other room, watching TV. “Look at this!”

  “I don’t have to,” he yelled back. “I know what you found. Damn it, Michigan is losing.”

  Edmond jumped up. “That’s not my money! You can’t prove anything. That’s your money! You’re just trying to frame me. You put it in there!”

  Dewey started to laugh. This even made me laugh. At least one hundred thousand dollars on Manchester’s desk. Dewey looked at the money, went back into the bedroom and returned with one of Manchester’s suitcases. He held onto the sides of the suitcase, and used his handkerchief to open the two locks. He told me to stack the money inside. Then he said to Manchester, “You’re right, Edmond. This isn’t your money. We’ll take it back where it came from. It was a cheap trick to frame you. I’m sorry about that. However, if this ever goes to court, you can explain how you got this money in the first place, but you and I know it’s never going to court. You’re going to work for us now, because if you don’t” – Dewey started laughing again – “I think you get the picture … We’re going to have a lot of fun together. Don’t you see that? We want you to continue doing exactly what you’re doing. You’re just a sewer pipe and we’re going to protect you. Don’t worry about Moon and Scarluci. They’re just a bunch of loudmouth guineas. Now, why don’t you get a good night’s sleep and we’ll talk again in a few days. We’re your new best friends. Oh, one other thing; give my friend here your passport. You won’t be needing it. By the way, who does your suits? Nice tailoring. Weave isn’t worth shit, but nice lines.”

  Dewey took off his jacket and wrapped it around the suitcase. He carried it out of the apartment and loaded it in the car trunk, still wrapped in the jacket. I knew this wild ride was not over yet.

  SWITCH AND RE-SWITCH

  The next morning Dewey and I stopped by the Port Authority. He had the suitcase we took from Manchester’s apartment and carried it into the same bank of lockers that Manchester had used before. Again carrying the suitcase wrapped in his jacket, Dewey put it into an empty locker and threw me the key! I remembered Dewey pleading with Pike to continue the surveillance on the empty lockers. Dewey knew Pike would think the idea was stupid and would refuse; now it was the safest place in New York to hide drug money. Over one hundred thousand dollars now sat in a Port Authority locker, the last place anyone would look for it! In fact, the only place that agents were told not to look!

  When we got to the office Dewey told me to requisition seventy-five thousand dollars in government funds for a buy of heroin from Lisa Marie. Nothing mad
e sense. The plan was supposed to be for Lisa Marie to pay me seventy-five thousand dollars. Now everything was upside down again. Was I selling or buying the heroin that I didn’t have?

  Around noon Pepper called to set up a meeting with Lisa Marie at the same Midtown bar where we met last time.

  Late in the afternoon we stopped by Pepper’s apartment and picked up a few bags of heroin for Lisa Marie. I gave Pepper thirty dollars, which made me laugh as I thought about all the drug and government money around me – the seventy-five thousand dollars in government money in Dewey’s briefcase and over one hundred thousand dollars in the locker. On the way to the meeting Dewey gave me my new instructions: “Lisa Marie will want to see the heroin first; give her the key to the locker so she can see the eleven kilos of heroin.”

  I lost all sense of reality. I looked at Dewey as if he was crazy, but then it came to me. Now I understood, Dewey had made another switch; there was no money in Manchester’s suitcase when we put it in the locker this morning. Now I understood why Dewey wrapped the suitcase in his jacket and held it by the sides. It was to avoid adding his fingerprints. The suitcase in the locker now contained the new eleven kilos of heroin that Dewey made when he cut the original eleven kilos of pure heroin in half. I still didn’t understand why I had gotten the seventy-five thousand dollars in government funds. It would be pointless to ask. Dewey never gave anyone a straight answer. I just did what Dewey told me to do, and knew that he was being directed by Michael.

  At the meeting, Lisa Marie led the conversation. “We have given your offer of eleven kilos a lot of thought, and I’ve raised the money. I don’t know you, but I’m willing to give you a chance. If the drugs are as good as you say, then you will be paid. If they’re not, I’ll return the drugs. You said you’d front the drugs, I want to see them now before I pay you a dime.”

  I reached in my pocket and handed her the locker key and her little bags of heroin. “Port Authority, the locker’s on the north side of the ticket booths. Oh, and the bags of junk are on me.”

  She stuffed the heroin bags in her purse and reached under the table for a black attaché case and placed it in front of me. In the middle of the crowded bar I opened it and saw stacks of bundled, new, hundred-dollar bills. Lisa Marie looked into my eyes and said, “This is your deal. You’ve been kind to me. At ten-thirty tonight meet me in front of Halburton Trucking, on Ashton Avenue in Queens. It’s just a couple of blocks from my house. Take Queens Boulevard, it’s easy to find. I’ll be there with this money. You come alone and I will be alone.” Again she looked straight into my eyes and said, “I trust you. You won’t hurt me.” She smiled and kissed me on the lips, and walked out the door, carrying both the black attaché case filled with cash and the key to the locker at the Port Authority.

  That night, to kill time, Ed Silkey and Dewey and I had dinner in Little Italy. I called Pepper to tell him to join us, but he didn’t answer. This concerned me since he was expecting my call. About nine-thirty I drove Dewey’s car to meet Lisa Marie. Dewey and Silkey followed. We got to the Halburton Trucking Company about fifteen minutes early. I told Silkey and Dewey to park a couple of blocks away. I didn’t want Lisa Marie to be suspicious and the two of them made me worry about Lisa Marie’s safety.

  I stood on the dark street, remembering all that had happened, the look in Lisa Marie’s eyes, the smile, the trust, the gentle kiss on the lips – and I began to wonder what I was doing. Now I was selling heroin to the Mafia. None of this made sense, and I began to think that Dewey was truly crazy, and I was going to end up in jail. Then Lisa Marie’s dark BMW turned the corner. It drove past me, up the block, turned around, came back past me and disappeared around the corner. I saw it turn around again and come back rolling to a stop in front of me.

  I couldn’t see who was driving, then the car door opened. It was not Lisa Marie, it was a man about my age, good-looking, his hair combed straight back in a ponytail. He wore a dark sport coat and white silk shirt with an open collar. He smiled, and his smile scared me, “Lisa Marie asked me to deliver something to you. The junk is terrific.” He started walking toward me, carrying a shopping bag. He repeated, “Lisa Marie wanted me to give you this.” As he started to hand me the shopping bag the street erupted in gunfire. The first bullet hit him in the chest and the second nicked the edge of his chin; bullet after bullet began striking him so hard that he began to wave his arms. His face was twisted as he tried to scream, his hands came together as if in prayer, and then another bullet hit him and jerked him up in the air. His white shirt turned mostly red with huge polka-dots. So many bullets came that the sounds blended into one loud roar.

  Horrified, I began to imitate his macabre motions, waving my arms like his and twitching my head back and forth as the bullets struck and jerked him around. We danced together for what seemed like minutes, until he fell down at my feet. I stood there wondering why I wasn’t hit, with so many shots fired right in front of me. I couldn’t believe I was still standing. Out of the darkness I heard Dewey’s voice: “Toss the car, Ed.”

  They had killed the man in a barrage of crossfire. Dewey walked over to the body and flipped it over with his foot and stared at the dead, handsome, young man. Kneeling down to get a closer look at the man’s face, Dewey said with a smile, “Hi, Bobby. This was for Pepper.”

  I was shaking, but finally I screamed, “How could you do this? He was giving me the money. We had a deal. He was buying our heroin! How could you murder him?”

  “You shouldn’t be selling heroin,” Dewey answered with his usual sarcasm. “It’s against the law. When will you ever get that straight? Drug dealers sell heroin, not agents.”

  Without looking up, Dewey turned the shopping bag upside down. A revolver with a black silencer rolled out – and nothing else … no money.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “I told you before. What did you think? She’s a junkie. She betrays people. That’s what junkies do. Why would she meet you here in a dark, empty street to give you money she already showed off in a crowded restaurant? Besides, she sent Bobby here. He’s a stone-cold killer, works with Joe Valachi. Besides, Kyle left a message after your meeting this afternoon. Somebody took Pepper for a ride. They tied him up and threw him out of a car on the Jersey Turnpike. It broke his neck. Who do you think did that? Who got him into that car?”

  Then I heard Silkey say from inside the BMW, “Jesus Christ! Guess what we got – eleven kilos of heroin!” He held up Manchester’s suitcase that Lisa Marie had taken from the locker at the Port Authority and, without saying another word, Silkey held up Lisa Marie’s black attaché case containing the seventy-five thousand dollars that her father had given her. Silkey put the money in the trunk of Dewey’s car. He left Manchester’s suitcase of heroin in the back seat of Lisa Marie’s car where he found it. Silkey radioed the NYPD and soon squad cars surrounded the area.

  It was just another drug buy gone bad: Bobby Moon, a well-known killer, carrying eleven kilos of heroin, which he had gotten from Manchester, now trying to sell it to a federal narcotics agent for seventy-five thousand dollars of government money. Fortunately the surveillance team stepped in just in the nick of time, before it turned into a robbery-homicide. The Bureau got a new BMW, got its seventy-five thousand dollars back, seized eleven kilos of heroin and got a hit man off the streets. Manchester and Lisa Marie’s fingerprints would be on the suitcase containing the heroin, and my reports, written by Dewey, described the negotiations with Lisa Marie and how I had requisitioned the government money for the buy, which was now safely returned to the Bureau. Meanwhile, the money Lisa had raised from her father’s Mafia friends to buy their own eleven kilos of heroin was still in the trunk of Dewey’s car.

  THE FIGHT

  In the office everyone treated me like a hero. It certainly looked like that on paper: I had developed the informer, gone undercover and set up Bobby Moon, seized eleven kilos of heroin, and saved the government seventy-five thousand dollars. Pike decided t
o execute the warrant on Charles Moon’s house immediately. He called Kyle to tell him the Bureau was going to Moon’s house, and asked him to coordinate the raid with the cops. Dewey said he had a dentist appointment and couldn’t go. I didn’t go either. Pike said it would be best if I was not involved in the search. The agents and Queens police broke down Moon’s door and found the original eleven kilos of government-marked heroin in his basement, plus three more kilos and a cutting-and-bagging operation. They also found over a hundred thousand dollars in drug money. Charles Moon and his wife had learned only hours before that their son had been killed trying to sell drugs. Moon’s wife was crying so hard she threw up on one of the cops.

  That evening Michael, Dewey, Kyle, and Silkey met at the clinic. Stacked on the table was over one hundred thousand dollars from Manchester’s apartment and Lisa Marie’s seventy-five thousand. Dewey had already begun dividing it into small piles. Michael began talking about how we would now use Manchester, not only here in the United States, but overseas as well. Scarluci and Lisa Marie would come next. Michael believed we could turn Scarluci, especially now that we had his daughter.

  Around 8:30 Kyle walked in the door wearing a raincoat to hide his uniform – police dress blues with a tie, badges on his chest and silver bars on his shoulders. He had been at a city function and had left early to join us. Michael looked at him and said, “Make any new cases lately?” Kyle showed his horrible rat grin of long white teeth. Dewey, Michael, and Silkey laughed, as Kyle sat down and looked at the piles of money. Dewey pointed to a small stack that he was making on the table and said to Kyle, “This one’s yours” and he pushed it toward him. Kyle stared at the small pile of money and his face clouded up. “I don’t want your filthy drug money,” he said, and threw one of the bundles of hundred-dollar bills in Dewey’s face.

  Dewey snatched a handful of money from the table and threw it back at Kyle, hitting him in the chest, on his medals. Everyone around the table grabbed the money and began throwing it at each other, laughing, and yelling, “I don’t want any filthy drug money!” Bundles of cash and loose bills were flying all over the room until there were none left on the table. Then, still laughing, everyone got down on his hands and knees to gather up the money and put it back on the table. When they were seated again and the laughter had died down, Dewey said, “Kyle, if you pull that shit again, I’m not going to throw it back.” Everyone started laughing again, even me.