The Big Scam by Paul Lindsay

Author:Paul Lindsay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2005-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

18

MIKE PARISI WAS THE ONLY ONE IN THE KITCHEN when the phone rang. “Hello.”

“Who’s this?” The voice was a little unsure.

“This is Mike. Who’s this?”

“You don’t need to know who this is, Mike. I used to live in the neighborhood, and you guys helped me out of a small jam once. I’m just calling to repay the favor.”

“Okay.”

“I saw that crap in the paper about that Baldovino guy getting arrested and how the fucking FBI made fun of him, but there’s something the papers don’t know about the FBI.”

“Go on.”

“I live over in Jersey now, and I got this neighbor, he’s with the FBI. He doesn’t tell anybody, but his kid told my kid. Couple of days ago I’m watching the news, and they’re talking about this broker named Sam Shelby being arrested for insider trading. They show him being brought out in handcuffs. He’s holding his hands up trying to hide from the camera, but I see it’s this agent. His real name is Garrett Egan. I don’t like him. He’s one of these people who’s always looking down his nose at you. At first I’m thinking this is some kind of undercover deal, but then I figured out it can’t be. He wouldn’t have been on TV like that where people could blow his cover. And ever since then, we haven’t seen him or his family. They don’t come out. Our kids play Little League together. They stopped coming to the games. And now their house is up for sale. And it’s priced to sell quick. Evidently he needs money. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Anyway I just thought you’d like to know. Maybe you could call the reporter who did the story on your friend and tell him about it. I’d love to see that in the paper.”

“I’d like to see that myself. I appreciate this,…”

“Chris.”

“Why don’t you give me a number where I can get ahold of you.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to help you guys out. Like I said, you helped me out of a jam in the neighborhood a ways back, and I always felt like I owed you one. Maybe this’ll even us.” He hung up.

Parisi turned around to find DeMiglia’s driver, Angelo, standing behind him. It had only been two days since he had given the map to the underboss, and he had hoped it would take a long time to have its authenticity decided.

“Danny would like to see you. Outside. In the car.” Had the map proven a forgery—or worse, had DeMiglia found him out? If it was good news, why hadn’t the underboss come himself? As he walked out of the club, he silently chanted the don’s words: Panic is an enemy. Angelo opened the back door to the Cadillac and Parisi got in.

“You think that’s cute not telling me it was only half the map? That the Feds have the other half?” DeMiglia said. “What kind of cutesy bullshit is that?”

“I knew you’d find out, it’s right in the

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