The Payback Game (18 page)

Wallachi turned to Boff. “Frank, what are you going to do with these pictures, anyway? Give ’em to your old high school buddy in the Brooklyn D.A.’s office?”

“No, not yet. Right now we have a couple of big pieces missing. One, where do the Hells Angels fit in? Two, what do they do with the drugs they just hijacked?”

About fifteen minutes later, the garage door swung open again and the three men walked out. The longshoremen were toting the garbage bags with the raid paraphernalia. Galvani was carrying two medium-size, brown duffle bags. After he closed and locked the garage door, he headed for his Mustang. Manny kept snapping shots.

Hannah tapped Boff on his shoulder. “What happened to the big green duffle bag he took from the place they raided?”

“It appears,” Boff said, “that for some reason Galvani put the drugs into the two smaller bags. I’m not sure why, but I believe if we keep tailing him, we’ll find out. Pete, there’s a good chance he’s going to come back this way, so drive a couple blocks ahead and park where he won’t notice you.”

Galvani put the two bags in his trunk, then drove back toward where Wallachi had been parked and made a right turn. Wallachi waited until the Mustang was a few blocks away before he did a U-turn and followed. Galvani drove back to Sunny’s Bar, let the longshoremen out, and took off. Then they tailed him into Bushwick, where he parked outside the same bar he had gone to three days earlier to meet with the Hells Angels. As the cop walked into of the bar, Boff noticed that biker Ted Green’s big Harley was parked at the curb again.

“Frank,” Wallachi said, “should we send Danny into the bar to see what’s happening?”

“No. Let’s sit tight. The bags are still in his trunk. In this kind of neighborhood, I don’t think he’ll leave them in there for more than a few minutes.”

“Why do you think he stopped here?”

“My gut feeling is we’re going to see a transfer of some sort,” Boff replied. “Stay on it, Manny.”

Five minutes later, the biker came out alone, walked over to his Harley, and unlocked two large hard, side bags that were as big as medium suitcases. Then he walked to Galvani’s trunk, used a key to open it, and took the two duffle bags out. He carried the bags over to his Harley, put one duffle in each side bag, closed and locked the lids, and walked back into the bar.

“Transfer complete,” Boff said. “Now we know for sure that not only do the drugs from the raids go to the Hells Angels, but this guy makes the delivery.”

“But,” Hannah said, “we’re still stuck with the ‘why’ of all this.”

“Be patient, my girl. Manny, you kept your BlackBerry on like I asked you to, right?”

“Oh, shit! I forgot. I’ll do it now.”

“Dammit, Manny,” Wallachi said. “You were supposed to keep an eye out for an alert about the church vehicle. And you wonder why I don’t treat you like an equal.”

Manny typed on his BlackBerry. “Okay, now I’m online. I’m checking my email….Chill, Pete. There’s no email from MobileGuardian. The church SUV must still be in the parking garage.”

“Good,” Boff said. “Let’s take off.”

“Frank, are you sure you don’t want to keep following Galvani?”

“What for? We saw what we needed to. Now the only questions are what role—if any—does the Church SUV play, and what exactly are the Hells Angels up to?”

At Cassidy’s request, Boff made a trip up to Bailey’s at
noon the next day. The old reporter was waiting alone for him in a booth.

“Hannah told me about the phony raid,” he said as Boff sat down. “What
’re you going to do now? Show the pictures to the D.A.?”

“No.”

“Then what? We’ve got Galvani dead to rights.”

“Nailing him on these raids doesn’t help us finger him for killing Nicky. There has to be something bigger at work here. I say we play this out to the end. Wherever it may lead us. Along the way, we can hopefully flip somebody to testify that Galvani and/or the bikers ordered the hits on
Nicky and Maloney. Meanwhile, I’m working on a backup plan.”

“Which is?”

“You know my recent history in tracking killers. That should tell you something.”

Cassidy smiled. “You’ll take things into your own hands.”

Boff said nothing.

Then Cassidy asked him, “What do you think the church SUV is for?”

“That has me a little stumped. I don’t even know if it’s connected to Galvani and his crew. Although the trip he made to the body shop for no apparent reason makes me believe it is.”

“Well, one thing jumps out at me,” the old reporter said. “A church vehicle is good cover.”

“Yes, but cover for what?”

“A different caper?”

Boff thought about this a minute. “There is one possible clue,” he said. “Why is the van registered in Massena? There must be a reason.”

Cassidy shrugged. “They might’ve chosen the town at random.”

Boff shook his head. “When it comes to motives, I don’t believe in random. I looked Massena up. Its population is roughly thirteen thousand. It has an Alcoa plant and an engine-casting plant. Adjacent to Massena, the Port of Authority operates a hydroelectric power generating dam on the St. Lawrence River. The only other thing of note is the city has an airport that only flies to Albany and back.”

“Sounds like a real shithole.”

“Yes, it does. That’s why I’m going to have to give it more thought. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta get going. We’re tailing Galvani again today.”

As Boff got up to go, Cassidy said, “Frank, I’m rooting for your backup plan.”

On the remote chance that Galvani had noticed the Crown Vic during the raid surveillance, Wallachi asked Manny to bring his car, a new Hyundai hatchback. The team was now waiting for Manny outside the gym. When the crack op pulled up, Wallachi shooed him into the backseat and took the wheel.

“For the record,” Manny grumbled, “I’m not too happy about you driving my car.”

“If I let you drive, who’s going to take pictures?”

“You can handle a camera, Pete.”

“Not as good as you. Plus, you’ve never tailed a car before.”

“No shit. Maybe now’s a good time for me to start learning?”

Wallachi shook his head. “Not on an op this big. But I promise you’ll do the tailing on our next job.”

Manny seemed placated. “Okay. Just don’t drive my car the way you do yours. Be more careful. Don’t run stop signs or try to beat red lights like you always do.”

Wallachi arrived at the 71
st
Precinct an hour before Galvani normally got off work. After parking down the street, he sent Manny out for refreshments.

“Boff,” Hannah said, “do you think you can talk to that Bellucci character? He’s been eating my vegetables without asking me. I never should’ve taken him to a vegan restaurant.”

“Ask Danny. He’s his roommate.”

“I did. He refused to help.”

“That’s bullshit,” Cullen said. “I told Mikey if he was going to eat your vegetables, he had to buy replacements. And he did.”

“Junky produce from the supermarket! Loaded with pesticides. I only buy organic.”

Cullen shook his head in frustration. “You know, you
could
lighten up a little on Mikey and me. We’ve bent over backyards to meet all your ridiculous demands. Not to mention I have to sleep on my couch. You should be grateful to us.”

“I didn’t ask to live with you. I was forced to.”

“Then deal with it and stop bitching. I encounter all kinds of difficult situations in the ring, and I have to adapt or lose the fight.”

“This is real life,” she said, “not boxing.”

Cullen spit out a laugh. “Real life? Really? What the hell do you know about
real
life? You’ve spent years in fancy colleges, you’ve been babied by Cassidy, and you chose to work for a small newspaper so you could be the queen bee.”

Wallachi raised his voice a notch. “Can we tone it down?”

When the redhead didn’t reply to Cullen, he nodded. He’d finally put her in her place. But, of course, he knew it would be a very short-lived victory. She would probably punish him by making his life even more miserable at home than it already was.

Wallachi turned to Boff. “Frank, why’d you bring her in the first place?”

“Partly because Cassidy insisted,” Boff replied. “Also to get even with you for bringing Manny along.”

The crack op bristled. “Hey, don’t compare me to her! I’m nowhere near as bad as she is. Plus, I contribute to the team with my camera work. What exactly does
she
do? Besides complain about everything?”

Wallachi shook his head. “Both of you! Shut. The Fuck. Up.”

Galvani left the station at three-fifteen with his Hispanic partner. They got in the Mustang and Galvani drove it to a Jamaican section of
Crown Heights, then parked in front of a store with black curtains covering its front window. On an adjacent stoop was a bunch of young Jamaicans that Boff recognized from a previous case he had worked on. The store, he knew, was the headquarters for a street gang called the Jamaican Posse. Getting out of the Mustang, Galvani and his partner walked up to the stoop and showed their badges to the gang members.

“What’s this about?” Hannah asked.

“They’re probably investigating a murder or a robbery in the area,” Boff replied. “Those guys they’re talking to are members of a Jamaican gang.”

Galvani and his partner talked to the gang members for about fifteen minutes. Boff noticed that the Hispanic cop had a pad and pen out but wasn’t writing much on it. That didn’t surprise him. From his own experience with this gang, he knew they wouldn’t reveal much, if anything, to strangers. Especially cops.

After the two detectives finished questioning the gang, Galvani drove a few blocks away and double parked near a Jamaican grocery. They spent twenty minutes inside the store. From there, Galvani drove back to the precinct, dropped off his partner, then continued to his apartment building and disappeared inside.

“I have a feeling this is not going to be a fruitful day,” Hannah muttered.

Wallachi’s phone rang. “Yeah, Bob?” He listened for a few moments and then hung up.

“My op tailing Laterza said he’s alone in his Beamer and appears to be heading our way.”

Ten minutes later, Laterza drove past the surveillance team and double parked outside Galvani’s building. Moments later, the cop walked out carrying a black duffle bag and climbed into the Beamer.

Boff said, “That black duffle looks like the bag he came out of the Hells Angels’ headquarters with.”

“If they’re going on another raid,” Hannah said, “where’s the other guy?”

“He could be joining them at the garage where the
fake NYPD van is stowed,” Wallachi said. 

Boff shook his head. “No. That bag makes me feel they’ve got a different agenda right now.”

They followed Laterza until he drove inside the parking facility where the church SUV was parked.

“This looks promising,” Wallachi said.

Ten minutes later, the church vehicle came out of the facility, the cop behind the wheel, the longshoreman riding shotgun.

Manny snapped off some pictures, then lowered his camera. “Pete, why do you think Galvani is taking just Laterza along this time?”

“Not sure,” Wallachi said. “Most logical reason is they’re not going on a raid. Like Frank said, they’ve got have something different in mind. Something requiring just two guys.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Boff replied, “
it’s possible Galvani’s taking Laterza along because he’s going to drive outside the city limits.”

“So what if he is?” the crack op asked.

“Well, let’s say the SUV’s outside city limits and Galvani gets stopped for some reason by a cop or a state trooper. He can’t just flash his badge and say he’s working undercover looking for a suspect. No cop goes on a mission like that without a partner.”

Boff’s theory proved correct. Galvani drove through the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey, went north on Route 3 to the Garden State Parkway, then took the Parkway north until it merged onto the NY State Thruway.

“What do you make of this, Frank?”

“I think we can rule out sightseeing.”

When the Thruway split, and Galvani took the fork for Albany/Montreal, Boff turned around to Manny.

“Use your BlackBerry to find a map of Massena,” he said.

Manny typed a query. “Okay, I got a map. Massena is right near the Canadian border.”

“If they’re going to Massena,” Wallachi said, “and it’s near the border, we’re in for a long ride.”

Boff nodded. “We should’ve brought more food.”

“Manny,” Wallachi said, “use MapQuest to get directions from
Brooklyn to Massena.”

After the crack op had worked on his Blackberry a few minutes, he looked up and made a face. “Crap. It’s another five hours away.”

“Maybe they’re not going to Massena,” Hannah said.

“If they weren’t,” Boff replied, “then why are they driving the church SUV?” He turned to Wallachi. “How’re you doing on gas?”

Manny replied before his boss did. “I filled up before I went to the gym.”

“How many miles per gallon does this thing get?” Wallachi asked.

“The manual says thirty-two on the highway. That’s about right.”

Wallachi frowned. “We’ve got a little less than three-quarters of a tank. We won’t make it to Massena. We’re going to have to stop for gas at some point.”

“Yes, but so will Galvani,” Boff said. “That SUV probably gets no more than fifteen or twenty miles per gallon. When they stop for gas, we stop for gas. These thruway stations are pretty big. If we park by a pump that’s as far from the SUV as possible, they shouldn’t spot us. Also, the rest stops we’ve passed have all had restaurants. We can get some food while we’re gassing up.”