Need You Now

36

B y midafternoon Andie was outside of Philadelphia. The small yellow house on the corner was old but well maintained, one of many just like it on this quiet, tree-lined street. It seemed perfect for a retired couple, except for the need to shovel four inches of new snow from the walkway. As Andie climbed the steps of the front porch, she noticed a plaque above the door from the Society of Former Special Agents of the FBI. L OYALTY, F RIENDSHIP, G OODWILL, it read. It reminded Andie of F IDELITY, B RAVERY, I NTEGRITY, the motto on her own shield-the same shield that Frank Scully had carried for twenty-five years. He was just beyond the bureau’s minimum retirement age of fifty, but well short of the mandatory cutoff at age fifty-seven.

He greeted Andie at the door, led her to the TV room, and offered her a seat. He took the other armchair, facing her.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” said Andie.

“You didn’t give me much choice.”

Scully was right. The phone conversation had been short and to the point. At first Scully had refused to talk about Tony Mandretti. Knowledge was power, however, and her mere mention of a familiar name had put the power in Andie’s hands.

Scully asked, “How did you find out about Manu Robledo?”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Your secret is apparently safe within the FBI. I can’t find a single agent who even pretends to know about Robledo’s connection to Gerry Collins.”

Scully glanced at her sideways. He looked fit and younger than his years, more like an agent who would have worked right up until the moment he blew out fifty-seven candles, rather than take early retirement. “So if you didn’t get it from the inside, who told you?”

“Tony Mandretti,” she said.

“I don’t believe you. Tony would never crack.”

“He would if he thought his children were at risk.”

Scully fell silent, but his expression confirmed that she’d struck a chord.

“Is that what you told him?” he asked.

“I did,” said Andie, “because it’s true.”

“How do you even know Tony’s kids?”

“Because I’m the agent who carried out the money-laundering investigation at BOS that you drew up before retiring.”

“Ah,” he said, as if things were falling into place. “How close did you stick to the way I drew it up?”

She told him about her arrangement with Patrick, the promise of cancer treatment for Tony Mandretti in exchange for Patrick’s cooperation with the FBI. “At the time,” she went on to say, “I presumed that the bureau had targeted Patrick because his father was in jail for the murder of Gerry Collins.”

“That would seem logical,” he said.

“I also had no reason to believe that Tony Mandretti was anything but guilty as charged,” said Andie. “Now that Manu Robledo is in the picture, I’m not so sure.”

Scully didn’t answer.

“Let me ask you the same question you put to me,” said Andie. “How did you find out about Robledo?”

“Sources,” he said.

“Inside the bureau?”

“Operation BAQ was not an FBI operation.”

“Then how were you able to get Robledo’s name and pass it along to Tony Mandretti?”

Scully shifted in his chair, and Andie could see his discomfort.

“I’m waiting,” she said.

He chuckled, but it was nerves. “I guess now you’re starting to get a feel for why I took early retirement.”

“You can answer my question,” said Andie, “or I can report my full conversation with Tony Mandretti to headquarters, and you can explain it to them.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You might prefer to think of it as having the power of choice.”

His nervous smile vanished. Anger was beginning to rise up. “I was a damn good agent,” he said. “Worked hard, did the right thing. I always kept my word, even when I gave it to a former mobster like Mandretti. It took a lot of courage for him to flip and testify against the Santucci family. It’s no secret what he gave up-his wife, his kids, his life. It made me sick the way the bureau turned its back on him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tony went into witness protection and really tried to straighten out his life. He started up his own repo business, totally legit. He was the muscle that lenders hired to repossess expensive cars, boats, airplanes-all the toys the new rich guys played with until they burned through their dough like the fools they were and couldn’t afford to play anymore. Every penny Tony made, he saved and invested. It took him fifteen years, but he had himself a pretty nice nest egg. Almost a quarter million bucks. He always said it was for his kids. It was his way of proving to them that he never forgot about them, never stopped caring. It was all good. Until he invested his money with Gerry Collins.”

“Lost it all,” Andie said.

“Every penny. Like everyone else.”

“But Tony wasn’t exactly like everyone else.”

“No,” said Scully. “That money was definitely more than just money to him. It was fifteen years of sweat from his own brow.”

“And it was for his kids.”

“More than that,” said Scully. “I don’t think you can understand unless you’ve lost touch with a child. It wasn’t just for his kids, the way parents raise their children, watch them grow up, and then leave something for them in their will. This was Tony’s only chance for any connection to the family he’d lost, and it was his kids’ only chance to feel connected to him. At least that’s the way Tony saw it.”

“Collins lost his money, and Tony wanted him to pay for it.”

“Not dead, necessarily. But he wanted Collins to feel the hurt.”

“I would think that a guy like Mandretti might enjoy doing that himself.”

“Tony was on parole. If he violated parole, he not only went to jail, he was out of witness protection. The Santucci family has long tentacles. How long do you think Tony Martin would last if it got out that he was really Tony Mandretti?”

“So you gave him the name of Manu Robledo, someone who would put that kind of hurt on Gerry Collins if he knew Collins was a fraud.”

He nodded. “If he knew he was a fraud.”

“Which brings me back to my question: How did you find out about Robledo?”

“That was part of a larger deal.”

“By larger, you mean…”

“Operation BAQ was run out of Treasury. Years in the making. Manu Robledo was the key.”

“How did you find out about it?”

“Tony gave me the analysis showing that Cushman was a fraud. I took it to the SEC, thinking this would be purely a regulatory matter. The hope was to get Tony a whistle-blower bounty for exposing Cushman’s fraud. I heard nothing from them, which was pretty surprising. I started poking around, looking for information on Gerry Collins.”

“That’s how you came across the name Manu Robledo?”

“No. I found out Collins had drawn a lot of attention from law enforcement for business with offshore banks. After twenty years with the bureau, I hear offshore bank and I think organized crime, drug cartels, or both. That’s when I went back to Tony and told him to be careful about bringing down Cushman through Gerry Collins.”