White Collar Blackmail

  “Really? What about the girlfriend? Why couldn’t he be passin’ information on to her?”

  “Because I’ve had her watched as well, that’s why.”

  Losing patience, Borchard snarled. “Answer my question. What does he know about the drugs?”

  “Virtually nothing,” Elliot replied. “We get rid of him every time we get a delivery. He would’ve seen some of the guys making sales, and he helped with some collections last week.”

  “Get rid of him?”

  “He’s never here. We send him out for lunch, coffee or whatever.”

  “So he could be watchin’ from across the road?”

  “Watching a white van drive down a alley. It could be delivering anything.”

  “Didn’t you say he was smart?” Borchard sneered. “Tell me about the woman.”

  “The woman?”

  “Jesus! You were calling the Deacon woman. Where did you call her from? Here?”

  Elliot paused. “Yeah, I Skyped her from here, but I always closed my door so he wouldn’t have heard anything.”

  “You never lost your cool? You never shouted at her?”

  Again Elliot paused but this time for longer.

  “Don’t worry about answering,” Borchard said. “You already have. So he probably did hear some of your calls. I’m sure the Fibbies traced Dirk from her cell phone. Why do you think they didn’t trace you?”

  “That’s easy. Skype’s virtually untraceable, and it’s heavily encrypted.”

  “So the FBI can’t crack or trace it?”

  “All they’d get is a jumble. It’s caller to caller secure.”

  “Okay. Maybe I’m wrong. I doubt it, though. Have there been any other strange occurrences since he started working for you?”

  “Strange? No, other than turning the club from losing a shitload to making a profit.” Elliot laughed.

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothing.”

  “My gut’s rarely wrong,” Borchard said, standing up. “Do you search him every day?”

  “Of course,” Elliot lied.

  “You need to keep a very close eye on him, because if you’re wrong, it’ll be you who’s in the gun. I’ll be in touch.”

  Vaughan brought the Camry up to the store entrance and opened the rear door. His boss slid into the back seat and said, “Head for Manhattan, Dirk. I’ll tell you where to go when we get there.”

  Thirty minutes later Vaughan drove into the parking garage below the Truman Building.

  “Stay here,” Borchard said, getting out and striding toward the private elevator.

  Dermott Becker was sitting in the boardroom by himself. He didn’t get up or shake Borchard’s hand and instead said, “You’re encroaching on my territory, Brock. I hope you’ve got a damn good reason.”

  Borchard pulled out the chair nearest to Becker and eyeballed him. “I have. Listen to this.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Borchard related his suspicions and finished by saying, “The only reason the Fibbies haven’t questioned Elliot is because the kid’s a plant. They don’t want to rock the boat. I told you to get rid of him. If I hadn’t been paying my friends in the Chicago PD, I’d be staring at ten years hard time. Fuck that!”

  Without saying anything, Becker reached for one of the phones on his desk.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling Jack to tell him to double the watch on the kid and his girlfriend,” Becker said, shuffling through some papers in front of him. “He’s got a new phone. So do I. I jotted down his number before. I’ve just got to find it.”

  “Why the new phones?”

  “Something happened to Jack’s. A power surge or something. I don’t exactly know. All he could get was squiggly lines on the screen, and it was beyond repair. As you know, we always changeover dedicated prepaid cell phones at the same time, so I had to get a new one too.”

  Borchard’s eyes narrowed, and he reached out his hand as Becker punched in Elliot’s number. “Cell phones don’t crash these days,” he said. “My guys have all got cell phones, and I can’t ever remember one crashing. Put Jack on speaker mode. Something stinks.”

  Before Becker could speak, Borchard said, “Jack, we want you to get your old cell phone back pronto. Dermott will give you the name of a telephony expert. I want you to take it to him and find out if it’s been tampered with.”

  “It might’ve already gone out with the trash.”

  “Nah,” Borchard said, “techies never toss stuff like that out. They always think they might be able to use the parts for something. Get Amon to go get it now. There’s no time to waste.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “It should be obvious, Jack. I just hope Brock is wrong,” Becker said. “I’ll phone you with a name within the hour.”

  Chas Grinich was both relieved and worried when the cameras in the parking garage of the Truman Building picked up Brock Borchard entering the private elevator. What was Borchard doing in New York? What did he know? Did he know about Todd? He hadn’t traveled by plane and his gang hadn’t been sighted recently, which probably meant they were with him in New York. It was clear that they had known they were being watched and slipped out of Chicago.

  Five minutes after Borchard left, Elliot barged into Todd’s office. “Stand up and put your hands above your head.”

  “You’re joking,” Todd replied, not moving.

  “No, I’m not. Now get the fuck up.”

  Todd got up and slowly put his hands up while Elliot vigorously patted him down. “Unbutton your shirt!”

  “What is this?” Todd asked nervously.

  Elliot ignored him and started rifling through the papers on his desk. Eventually he said, “Nothing,” and left Todd’s office without another word.

  Todd sat behind his desk taking deep breaths. They hadn’t searched him for weeks. He was taking Vanessa to the movies tonight and thoughts of canceling went through his mind. What had that evil, swarthy looking hoodlum told Elliot to make him so suspicious?

  Chapter 55

  Todd tried to keep calm, but he was nervous and kept glancing over his shoulder as he walked along the sidewalk with Vanessa. It was a cold, windy night; the streets were poorly lit, and it would be two blocks before they reached the restaurant district.

  “What’s wrong?” Vanessa asked, pulling the collar of her coat up around her face.

  Todd quickly related what had occurred. “They want me to work tomorrow morning,” he said. “That’s never happened before. Elliot wants to look at the outstanding debts.”

  The wind howled along the street, and flickering streetlights gave off a pantomime of moving shadows.

  “Stop looking behind,” Vanessa said, walking even faster to keep up with him. “If they were going to do anything, they’d have done it by now. I’m worried about you. I’m going to talk to Doug Lechte in the morning. I think you’ve done enough. It’s time to get out.”

  “Doug’s working on a Saturday?”

  “It’s a job for Max Lustig and Doug doesn’t want to disappoint him. Max said it was a pity you weren’t still with the firm because you would’ve been the best person to handle it.”

  Todd hardly heard a word Vanessa said. He was still thinking about what she’d said about getting out. He felt better now that he could see the lights of the entertainment district. “They won’t let me. They’ll want more.”

  “They had nothing before you told them about Karen Deacon and who knows what they’ll get off Elliot’s cell phone. You’ve done more than enough.”

  “I’m visiting Arturo on Sunday, so I’ll talk to Grinich, but I already know what he’s going to say.”

  Todd was as tight as a drum during the movie and when they came out he grabbed a taxi.

  “That’s only two blocks.” The taxi driver growled. “How am I gonna make a buck out of that?”

  “I want you to wait and then take me to Flushing.”

  “Ah, that’s better.” The
taxi driver grinned.

  “You’re not staying?” Vanessa whispered, obviously disappointed.

  “Sorry. I’d be useless and besides you’ll be safer without me.”

  Todd tossed and turned most of the night. Elliot was a gangster, but the swarthy guy and his henchman were something else and positively scary. The usual smell of stale smoke and alcohol greeted Todd as he entered the bar. The thugs were around the pool tables, and McEvoy strode toward him shouting, “Stop right there, kid.”

  What followed was a search that lasted more than two minutes.

  “Early night last night,” McEvoy said. “Did you have a fight with the girlfriend or didn’t she want to put out? Give us your phone. What’s your password?”

  McEvoy ran his eyes down the numbers called and received. “Don’t you and the girlfriend ever text?” he asked, as he returned Todd’s phone.

  “No.”

  “Oh, I nearly forgot. Jack called to say he can’t make it. He told me to tell you to go home.” McEvoy grinned.

  As Todd walked along the street back to his apartment, he knew that Elliot had never wanted him to work. It had been a setup so that McEvoy could search him. He racked his brain trying to think what he’d done that had them so suspicious. His call to Vanessa went through to voicemail, and he said, “Sorry, I’m feeling sick. Can we skip tonight? I’ll come by after Castlebrough tomorrow.”

  Todd was careful not to change his regular Sunday routine, and he left his apartment at precisely 12:30 P.M. His senses were on high alert as he made his way along Gable Street, and he paid close attention to the cars parked on the street. Two taxis passed him, but he kept on walking toward Mount Street where he knew Grinich would pick him up. Todd paid little heed to the dark blue Chevy parked in a no parking area. He was about fifty yards past it when he glanced around to see if anyone was behind him. There was a flash of movement in the Chevy and then there was nothing. He had never been followed on his visits to Castlebrough before, but now he was sure they were watching him. He stopped on the curb, slowly looked around, and hailed the first cab that he saw. Chas Grinich wouldn’t be picking up his usual fare today. Todd sat directly behind the driver so that he could look in his side mirror. The Chevy maintained a distance of about three hundred yards from the taxi and was only conspicuous when it changed lanes to pass.

  Chas Grinich was surprised and then worried that Todd wasn’t walking along Mount Street at the appointed time. He drove slowly around the block and when there was no sign of him he became very concerned. Twenty-five minutes later he was relieved when his office called to let him know that Todd had arrived at Castlebrough at the usual time. Something had made him change his schedule, and Grinich pondered what he should do. He toyed with the idea of lining up on the cab rank in front of the jail, but there was no certainty that he would be at the front of the line when Todd was leaving. He had no idea what had occurred, but it hadn’t been serious enough to curtail Todd’s visit to Castlebrough. It was clear to Grinich that he should lie low for the time being.

  Arturo never changed, and Todd wondered what was behind the veil. The room was set up, and the mobster was anxious to get his chess fix. After two games that he won easily, he stared menacingly at Todd and said, “You’re no competition. You’re playing like shit. I didn’t have to wait two weeks for this. Any asshole in here who can hold a chess piece would put up a better fight than you.”

  “I’m sorry, Frank.”

  “What’s wrong? Did you go out drinking last night? Are you hungover?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I think they’re on to me,” Todd replied.

  “Tell me everything,” Arturo demanded.

  When Todd had finished Arturo smiled grimly and said, “So the Serbian has returned to New York.”

  “You know him?”

  “Know of him,” Arturo corrected.

  “Is there anything you can do?”

  “I warned you. They’re in my backyard, but killing for the sake of killing is bad for business. However, if they break the rules I’ll send them a message they won’t forget.”

  “Break the rules?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. Shuffle the cards. I hope your gin’s better than your chess.”

  As Todd was leaving, Arturo said, “Do you still have that number I gave you?”

  “Memorized,” Todd replied.

  There was a line of taxis waiting at the front of the jail and Todd climbed in the back of the first one. There was a small shopping mall about two miles from Vanessa’s apartment, and he told the taxi driver to drop him at the entrance. Within two minutes of being on the highway, Todd looked in the driver’s side mirror, and there was the Chevy again. Why are they watching me so closely? It has to have something to do with switching Elliot’s cell phone. What do they know? Are they following Vanessa too?

  When the taxi pulled up at the mall, Todd gave the driver a fifty and took off. It was late in the afternoon, and there were few shoppers as Todd raced to the stairs to the parking garage. Without slowing, he ran through the garage and up the ramp to the street. There was no sign of the Chevy, as he worked his way down back streets to Vanessa’s apartment. When he reached her street, he poked his head around an alley. The Chevy wasn’t on the street. He sprinted the last two hundred yards, and when she opened the door, he was distressed and breathless. Before he could say anything she put her finger to her lips and said, “Hang on,” and plugged her iPhone into the docking station and Beyonce’s voice blasting out “Drunk In Love” echoed around the apartment.

  Todd collapsed onto the sofa and in gasping breaths related what had happened with the Chevy.

  “You look exhausted. You can’t go back to Bandits, and you can’t go back to your apartment. You’ll have to stay here.”

  “You don’t understand. Grinich won’t agree and if he doesn’t, I’ll have to do the remainder of my sentence.”

  “Isn’t that better than being killed?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t think they know anything. If they knew about the phone switch, I’d already be dead. I don’t who that scary guy is but I think he’s the reason they’re taking so much more interest in me.”

  “He might be Elliot’s boss?”

  “No. Elliot didn’t defer to him like he does when he talks to Dermott.”

  “Poor darling,” Vanessa said. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? When you wake up, we’ll go and get something to eat.”

  Chapter 56

  The manager of Big Apple Mobile laughed when Jed Buckley asked him if he could get Jack Elliot’s old phone back. “We’ve got a recycle bin with thousands of trade-ins and old cell phones in it.”

  “But it hasn’t got thousands of blue Samsung Galaxies in it,” Buckley replied. “I’ll pay someone to go through it.”

  “Can’t you see how busy we are? I can’t spare anyone right now,” the manager replied. “Besides there’ll be quite a few blue Galaxies that we’ve binned. We’ll have to identify the one you’re looking for.”

  “Fuck! I need someone to start looking now.”

  “It isn't going to happen. The best I can do is get a couple of my staff to come in early tomorrow morning and then only if you pay. I don’t know how long it’s going to take though. Why’s it so urgent? What do you want it for? There’s nothing on it that you can use.”

  Buckley ignored the questions. “That’s not good enough. I need it today. What if I get a few of my guys to help?”

  “Can’t do it,” the manager said. “I’d have no insurance, and they’re only going to be able to find the blue Galaxies. They won’t be able to identify the phone you're looking for, and I’ve told you I’ve got no one I can spare to help them.”

  “All right, all right,” Buckley said. “Call me as soon as you find it.”

  Elliot had been furious with Buckley and had called the store manager all to no avail. However, he didn’t have long to wait and at 10:15 A.M. the following morning got the call he was
waiting for. Forty-five minutes later the cell phone was in the hands of Manhattan’s foremost telephony expert.

  Brock Borchard had never been to Becker’s house in the Hamptons before. As he sat in the study overlooking the tennis court he could see himself living in the same style, even in the same house and with Becker’s young, well-endowed wife.

  “I told you the kid was a plant,” he said, “but you never listened to me. You know what your problem is, Dermott? You’re getting soft and old. The FBI are probably watching you right now. Luckily I’m here to mop things up for you.”

  “If they’re watching me, they’re watching you, too,” Becker replied.

  “Yeah, but there’s a difference. I’m young enough, smart enough and nimble enough to give them the slip. For that you should be grateful ‘cause by tomorrow night I’ll have made sure the accountant’s disappeared. I knew there was something fishy about that phone. I’ll get Dirk to take care of Elliot, too. He was the one who gave the kid his job, and has to pay the price for his mistakes. It’s the only way the others will learn.”

  “You like killing, don’t you?” Becker said, shaking his head. “You murder the kid and the Fibbies will come down on us like a ton of bricks.”

  “When I first came here, I learned that without a body it’s impossible for the police to get a murder conviction. What a truly marvelous country.” Borchard smirked. “That’s why I’m here. I need to borrow your cabin cruiser tomorrow night. Don’t worry, I promise there’ll be no trace of him.”

  “I don’t like it. The yacht club dining room’s busy on Sunday night. There will be a lot of members around the jetties.”

  “Bullshit! We won’t be there until after ten o’clock, and it’ll be quiet by then. All I need are the keys to the jetty and the boat. Dirk’s a master mariner so we won’t need any onboard help. I shouldn’t have to remind you that the buck should stop with you. It was you who let Elliot have his way and have a look at the shit that’s put us in. You should be grateful that I’m bailing you out.”