MIA by John Lansing

Author:John Lansing [Lansing, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

M anuel Alvarez was seated behind his desk, having a bad morning. The caked residue on a small mirror lying on his desktop was all that was left of four lines of cocaine. A shotglass and a half-full bottle of Herradura Gold sat next to a cold mug of coffee. He had fielded a call from his lawyer, Richard Levy, who was struggling to sound unconcerned about the bad news he was delivering.

“So, you’re fucking telling me that our private investigator, a man who’s on your payroll, was arrested for surveilling Bertolino’s house. What kind of asshole do you have working for you, and how did he get caught?”

“They’ve got this mafia neighborhood-watch setup where the cop lives that Victor wasn’t privy to. A couple of Gambino’s soldiers braced him. They took his camera, phone, the works. So they knew what he was doing. Beat the hell out him. Didn’t look pretty. Anyway, this Bertolino, the detective, arrested him this morning, and here’s the bad news.”

“You’re lucky you’re twelve hundred miles away, or you wouldn’t be looking so pretty yourself.”

“Don’t threaten me, Manuel. I’m the only lifeline you’ve got in this country. The bad news, Bertolino put the screws to him during the arrest, got him talking, and recorded the session.”

Alvarez jumped from his seat, knocking over his chair. He paced across the room, his lips pressed tight across his teeth, his voice, a staccato whisper. “Is that even fucking legal?”

“New York is a one-party consent state. Bertolino was within his rights taping a face-to-face conversation.”

“What did Victor say? What did the man give up?”

“I haven’t heard the tape yet, but Victor said he didn’t know anything, and so he had nothing of substance to share. He had no idea who he was talking to when he agreed to take the job. Just a voice on a phone, hired him to take pictures.”

“Then why was he arrested?”

“He was caught sitting in a car across from Bertolino’s house with photographs of Bertolino’s son. He was tied to my firm and our connection to Operation Green Door. They’re claiming he’s involved in a conspiracy to aid and abet known drug traffickers, the purpose, to threaten the lives of Jack Bertolino and his family.”

“Will the charges stick?”

“It’s hard to prove conspiracy. What they’ve got appears to be thin.”

“I need to hear the tape.”

“My people are working on it.”

“What time’s his bail hearing?”

“Because there’s a cop and his family involved in the complaint, they’ll hold him for at least thirty-six hours. It could go ninety-six, if the judge decides the charge is serious enough. He’ll eventually make bond.”

“I don’t pay you for vague answers. I want specifics.”

“When I know, you’ll know.”

“Watch your tone, Levy. I need some lead time. I’ll send one of my drivers.”

“I’ll have it covered.”

“I’m sending my driver,” sounding like a cobra’s hiss.

“Bad idea,” Levy said, knowing where the conversation was headed. “Whatever was said is already on record.”

“El Jefe won’t suffer loose ends any more than he’ll put up with loose fucking lips.

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