“I’d like to get right to this,” Bauer says. “I’m a little nervous, and I don’t want to change my mind. But I need your promise this will go no further. If it does, I believe I will be killed.”
Laurie and I both make the promise; I might even keep it.
There are two beds in the room and a chair. Laurie and I sit on one of the beds, but Bauer paces rather than sitting down. “I’m being blackmailed,” he says. “It’s been going on for almost six years.”
There is no limit to the number of questions that this surprising admission raises, but I start with, “Who is doing the blackmailing?”
“The person I deal with, or rather the person who deals with me, I guess you’d call him my handler, is named Loney. His first name is Alan, but he never uses it, at least with me. He works for a man named Carmine Ricci, who is a mob boss in Las Vegas. But I’m not supposed to know that.”
The mention of Vegas is particularly interesting to me, since that is where Danny Butler was killed. “How do you know it?”
“I’ve hired some private investigators to find out. They didn’t dig too deep, because I didn’t want to have them caught in the process.”
“What are they forcing you to do?” Laurie asks.
“I have tendered an offer to purchase a company called Milgram Oil and Gas. It’s been very contentious, and the case is in a Delaware court right now. A decision is expected at any time.”
“What do they have to gain from that?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It is not a move I would have made without their intervention. It won’t hurt my company either way, but as they say, the juice has not been worth the squeeze.”
“What happens after you get the company?”
“There will be further instructions, which they assure me will be painless.” His smile has no humor in it. “Painless is not how I would describe this situation.”
“And what if you don’t get the company?” Laurie asks.
“They don’t seem to be concerned about that. My analysis is that it’s a close legal call, but if Loney is worried, he certainly hides it well.”
There is no doubt in my mind that this is where Judge Holland comes in, and less doubt that he will rule in favor of Bauer and Entech Industries. Alex Bauer is not the only one they have something on.
“Why are you cooperating with them?” Laurie asks.
“That I can’t reveal, to you or anyone else. Suffice it to say that they have knowledge of something that, if revealed, would destroy my career, and most of my life. But I will tell you that it has absolutely nothing to do with the fire, or the Galloway trial.”
“How did they get that knowledge?”
“That is something I’ve never been able to uncover. It may seem a little cryptic for me to say this, but they may have been responsible for facilitating the situation in the first place.”
“They set you up?” Laurie asks.
“It’s possible, but ultimately I am to blame.”
“Why did you come to us with this?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Probably because you were coming to me, and I figured you’d find it all out anyway. But I also would like to nail them, and I’m hoping that you’ll be able to do that.” He pauses, and then says, “While leaving me out of it.”
“That would be nice,” I say.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Vince Sanders is referring to the fact that I haven’t been to Charlie’s to watch football for a couple of weeks. He’s yelling, so I hold the phone a few inches from my ear, which is the position it’s usually in when I’m talking to Vince.
“I’m in the middle of a trial, Vince. It’s on the front page of your paper every day.”
“So you’re in a trial, and I have to buy my own beer?”
“Vince, it was completely inconsiderate of me, and I apologize. From now on, just put everything on my tab.”
“You don’t have a tab,” he points out.
“Damn. If I get one, put everything on it.”
“What do you want?”
“What makes you think I want something?” I ask.
“When people ask me for a favor I get a rash. I’ve been scratching ever since the phone rang.”
“What about when the favor could result in a big story, which you would get the exclusive on?”
“That, my dumb, annoying friend, is like a soothing balm. What are we talking about here?”
“I need to talk to Dominic Petrone right away.” Petrone is the head of the largest organized-crime family in New Jersey, and he is one of the four or five billion people that Vince has access to.
“Why don’t you ‘friend’ him on Facebook?”
“Vince…”
“What should I tell him this is about?”
“The Galloway trial.”
“Let me have your credit card number,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because if Petrone puts you under Giants Stadium, I don’t want to have to buy my own beer.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, but realize the answer as I ask him.
“Because they tried to pin the fire on him when it happened. The theory was that the drug guys in the house were moving on his territory. He was all over the papers, including mine, and he wasn’t happy about it.”
“But he got cleared of it,” I point out.
“I still wouldn’t go around accusing him if I were you.”
“I’m not accusing him; tell him it’s about Carmine Ricci.”
“Stay by the phone.”
“For how long?”
“Until it rings.”
Click.
Vince never says “hello” or “good-bye.” It’s part of his charm. But he does have the significant trait of always coming through, and the phone rings ten minutes later.
It’s Vince. “Be outside your house at nine P.M. ”
“At night?” I’m nervous enough about meeting Petrone, since all he would have to do is nod for someone to kill me. It just seems somewhat safer during daylight hours.
“Wow, you don’t miss a thing.”
Click.
Meeting with Dominic Petrone is one of those things that seems right when you plan it, but then dread when the actual time approaches. In this case the dread starts as soon as Vince hangs up the phone.
“Let me go with you,” Laurie says.
I shake my head. “No. This is me and Dominic, one on one, mano a mano.”
“Mano a mano?”
I nod. “Right. Law of the jungle.”
“You’re a wonderful, talented man, Andy, but the jungle is not your thing.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you’re afraid of wild animals, bugs, snakes, lizards, spiders, scary-looking plants, and not having indoor plumbing. I have a feeling you wouldn’t sleep that comfortably in your tent if you knew that Mafia dons were lurking around either.”
“While all of that may be true, I told Vince that I wanted to talk to Petrone. I didn’t mention anyone else, and I don’t want to pull any surprises.”
I go outside at a quarter to nine, and exactly fifteen minutes later a black sedan pulls up. One of Petrone’s very large people gets out of the backseat, and holds the front door open for me. I get in the passenger seat and see that two other goon clones are in the car, one obviously driving.
